Who: Hansel & Gretel What: Twin bonding time Where: Gretel's room, Delta When: Backdated to Hansel's first night Rating: Feels and language (The Candy Twins should have their own warning)
The last few months had been one hell of ride on their own, but for Gretel, the last week of it had been like being tied to the back of a wild horse- or a crazy bitch’s broom. She’d been worn down; processing this world and all its insane differences from everything she knew and understood took a fuck-load of mental fortitude, but doing it all without Hansel- not knowing if she would ever see him again- had been putting a lot more pressure on that grindstone. She didn’t realize exactly how worn it had left her until after Sam died, and she disappeared into the bottom of a cocktail glass long enough to not remember how many days had passed.
That exhaustion had never felt more evident now that Hansel was actually here; the relief was a heavy weight finally being taken off her chest- when she threw her arms around him in the middle of that garish orange dorm, she felt like she’d taken her first full breath in a month. Now that she’d shown him the grounds and explained a few basics about their lavish and impossible prison, her spine wasn’t rigid and her subconscious wasn’t always looking for her brother- the one person she had never, ever been apart from her entire life brought that fatigue right to the front of her eyes.
They burned a bit under heavy lids as she leaned against the even more garish pink headboard of her new bed, sincerely missing Romeo’s plaid sleeping clothes instead of her linen tunic- which she also missed- now that her fucking wardrobe had been switched up again. She didn’t realize they closed for longer than she intended, her head propped against her brother’s shoulder as he was talking.
Hansel noticed the moment Gretel fell asleep. He always noticed when she dropped off, even if he was seemingly asleep himself. It was telegraphed in the way she relaxed from her head to her toes. Her grip on his hand would ease, and Hansel would tuck her hand back into her bed or bedroll, depending on how they were sleeping, and then he’d go to sleep himself. It wasn’t much, making sure things were safe for Gretel before knocking out, but it was a habit he’d gotten into since they’d been left in the woods.
Once her breathing was slow and deep, Hansel began to slowly ease himself away from Gretel.
He didn’t get far; the moment he stirred more than an inch, the second-nature reflex sharpened by the months of missing him clamped her hand on the nearest limb before it could get too far away. She wasn’t even conscious; the grip was visceral and reactive- survival instinct- but it loosened a heartbeat later when her mind caught up with the rest of her. Her breathing changed and her eyes opened- though heavily.
It wasn’t the first time she’d done it, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
“-sorry, what were you saying?” she said through the grog, sluggishly sitting up against the ugly-ass headboard, sensing something had shifted.
Hansel sighed, but he should have expected this. That’s how things had been when they were younger, when they were first on their own. With both of them, actually, especially when it became clear that he was sick.
“I was saying that you snore like that hog we had to sleep with in… Shit. Freiburg? I think it was Freiburg.”
The need for a physical reminder of the other’s nearness, the instinctual clinginess, always got worse for a while after a particularly bad hunt or encounter; after the orphanage they were forced apart in before they could escape, after the Cannibal in Frankfurt, after the time they were forced against each other. After the Augsburg Sheriff, and Muriel.
Being without him for so long had scraped a bloody and raw hole in her soul that would take time to heal, but his easy snark was as much of a healing salve as his physical presence.
“My snore is a kitten-purr, fuckyouverymuch,” she drawled, still half asleep. Her head laid back against the wall and her eyes closed again, but wakefulness was slowly edging back into her mind. The five minute cat-nap recharged her a bit, but more so was the little spike of adrenaline and panic that woke her up. “You snore like a bear. Especially when you’re drunk.”
“I'm drunk then, I don't care how loud I snore,” he said with a huff of laughter. Hansel turned his head and pressed a kiss to his sisters temple, letting his cheek rest there for a second. “You should lay down and get some sleep.”
He was right; she should sleep. She wanted to sleep, but the soul-deep fear of waking up without him again was twisting like a knife in her gut every time she thought about it. So, Gretel just sighed, her eyes droopy but open, focused on nothing in particular in the space ahead of her- her focus was on the slight vibration of his voice, familiar as breathing.
“I swear I can see this horrible color even with my eyes closed,” she said- ignoring his suggestion. “It’s burned behind my eyelids.”
“It’s not any worse than this piece of shit orange color.” Hansel pressed another kiss to her forehead. Her exhaustion was making him feel tired, too, and he wasn’t really “Come on. At least lay down all the way. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
Her gaze shifted, turning with her face more towards Hansel, complete with a tired, but quit telling me what to do expression; it was only skin deep, though. Bickering was normal; bickering was safe- they usually didn’t pick at each other if there was something else worth worrying about.
“You better fucking not-” she muttered through a sigh, though obviously it didn’t need to be said, and pushed herself and her petal-pink dress off the wall to curl up on her side- still close enough for comfort. “You’re right though- you look like a gigantic carrot.”
Hansel was offended, sort of. “I do not,” he said, jabbing her with a finger. “You look like- I mean, you’re a giant-” Yeah, he couldn’t think of something that shade of pink other than the Candy witch’s house. But like, back when they were young. That last time he’d seen it, it looked like shit.
“Just shut up and go to sleep already.”
She probably should have gone to sleep, but no way was she dismissing that victory so quickly. No- savoring it for a little while might even hold the nightmares at bay.
“Whatever you say, Giant Carrot-” Was it mature? Not in the least, but she was smirking against the hand and hair on her pillow.
Hansel just glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. There never was. His entire family was her, his world was her. He’d gladly talk about a rabid badger attacking her, but if one ever actually did, he’d snap its neck. With her, though…
Hansel reached beside him and grabbed a pillow, specifically so he could thump her on the head with it. “Shut up.”
Snorting a tired laugh, she batted him away, then give his side a good hard pinch for good measure. She left the battle at that, for now, curling the had that had just pinched him around his arm like a security blanket, and started to settle again. The hard-line of physical connection eased the tension that lit her up when she sensed him being pulled away. A few minutes of that, and she’d be asleep again. And he’d be trapped.