Percy/Oliver
Reaching out, Oliver took Percy's glasses from his hands and gently folded the arms together. Exceptionally careful not to scratch the lenses, he tucked Percy's glasses into the breast pocket of his button up shirt before any protests could be made. 'You fiddle when you're nervous,' was the only explanation he gave before guiding the conversation back to the dreams.
'Well... I'll tell you, what, Percy. If they are real, well, then I'll believe it when I experience it. But I've had those dreams when I was dying. The ones that feel so real when you wake up that you donnae know where you are, who you are.' Like the time Oliver was in hospital, convinced he hailed from Glasgow, not Edinburg. Everything other question he'd answered correctly but the big blue estate at the top of the hill was in Glasgow. And yet, he'd just told Percy about the two-up two-down at the bottom of the Royal Mile.
He shook his head.
'But after I woke up, that was it. If you're telling me though that you have proof these dreams are real? Really real? Then I'll believe it too because I trust you.' And that really was what Percy needed, wasn't it? Someone to believe him, someone to trust that he wasn't going mad even though all the signs pointed to insanity.