Static Crush {M/M} ✔

Chapter #31

As Hale wakes the next morning, he notices two differences from when he went to sleep. The first is that, in the absence of warmth emitted by the space heater, the car’s interior is glacial cold. The second is that Rayner is no longer curled up on the opposite side of the car. Prompted by the chill, he’s cuddled up to the only remaining source of heat there is—Hale. 

With his head pillowed against Hale’s shoulder, their bodies contoured together with very little space between, Hale’s heart starts racing before he’s had time to take stock of morning activities or check the weather.

Part of him thinks he should get up to turn on the space heater. Another part thinks that moving will definitely wake Rayner. It might be nice to just let him sleep longer and enjoy the moment. Frost paints the windows in curling, icy fractals like silver feathers, blotting out the world outside, and Rayner looks equally beatific sleeping with the imprint of Hale’s shirt on his cheek. His tawny lashes dip over cheeks tinged ruddy with the cold. 

The moment doesn’t last long. Hale is programmed to wake only minutes before his symbiont, and too soon, Rayner shifts and blinks blearily. When he finally reaches consciousness, his body goes rigid.

“Oh,” he says in a voice muffled by sleep. “This is embarrassing.”

“Is it?” Hale tries to defuse Rayner’s rising tension with self-deprecating humour—something he’d witnessed plenty between his friends but employed rarely himself. “Of my own embarrassing experiences, this ranks far lower by degree of humiliation.”

Rayner gets up slowly, still looking discomfited despite the reassurance. He extricates himself from the tangle of their limbs and blankets, much to Hale’s regret. 

“You seem to have slept better,” says Hale. “My battery is nearly full this morning. Perhaps the physical contact helped?”

Rayner looks apologetic. “Probably. But I don’t want to use you like some kind of sleep aid or tool.”

Hale doesn’t know how to phrase ‘I liked it,’ without sounding weird or getting tangled in protocols. For the moment, his programming waffles, unable to determine whether Rayner’s discomfort is as a result of ‘using’ Hale or because he objects to physical contact in general. 

“If you’re afraid that it’s some kind of hardship for me,” Hale says, “I assure you it’s the opposite.”

Rayner says, “Hmm.” 

He continues looking concerned regardless. Hale suggests breakfast but logs the conversation as a point to revisit later. Somehow, he’ll have to convey that he enjoys the physical contact. Without letting on just how much. He still isn’t prepared to confess his attraction or the fantasies that play upon his mind with increasing frequency.

They go inside, Hale still holding onto that sliver of contentment he’d felt seeing Rayner cuddled up to him. 

Theo comes into the kitchen just as Hale’s serving pancakes. He catches her giving Rayner a pointed look, but Rayner says ‘don’t’ under his breath, and she rolls her eyes. She doesn’t make any allusion to the conversation with Hale until Rayner’s gone to the bathroom.

“I take it you didn’t tell him about your feelings,” she grumbles into her coffee.

“He was asleep when I returned,” Hale hedges.

“And this morning?”

“...The timing didn’t feel appropriate. And I couldn’t ascertain whether you intended to encourage or deter me with your parting comment.”

Theo groans. “You know, Hale, for a really intelligent person, you can be really thick.”

Hale can hear the affection in her tone and knows not to take the comment to heart. However, it seems the usual opportunity for Damo to pipe up with his agreement or an additional jibe.