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Description
On nights when the nightmares came in earnest and Daylen’s skin seemed to burn off his sweat faster than it could bead at his browline, their bedroom became a bunker and Finn became a soldier. He didn’t bother trying to shake Daylen awake anymore, because by his own admission a night spent plagued by the archdemon’s Call was easier to endure than a day drifting through his routine in an exhausted, aching daze due to sleep deprivation. “It’s a twisted lullaby,” Daylen had joked, “but you get used to it. You don’t have much of a choice, really.”

“No, I don’t,” Finn had agreed, and Daylen had grown quiet. It wasn’t how he’d meant it, Finn knew, but that didn’t make it any less true.

So he held his lover through his convulsions and took the burn of Daylen’s fever against his collarbone, and in the mornings when he found bruises on his back from where Daylen’s fingers had ground into his skin from gripping him too tightly, he took those, too. He would take everything, if he could.

“One day,” Daylen told him as they lay in bed with the sweat-soaked sheets tangled around their legs and his hands still trembling from the ferocity of his grip, “you’ll have to let me go.”

“Maybe,” Finn allowed. He closed his eyes and tilted his chin down, kissed Daylen’s eyebrows until the tension left them and they smoothed themselves. He slid his fingers through the tangle of his lover’s damp ginger hair. “But not today.”

----

Fic bit was written by Middle-Marching on Tumblr, cuz I strong-armed her into doing it. I'm a horrible person. On the upside, this is the most happy I've been with a color piece in ages!

Brotoast RP-verse again, not Fugitive Trail related! Finn is copyright to Bioware, my Warden's design is copyright to myself.

Description
On nights when the nightmares came in earnest and Daylen’s skin seemed to burn off his sweat faster than it could bead at his browline, their bedroom became a bunker and Finn became a soldier. He didn’t bother trying to shake Daylen awake anymore, because by his own admission a night spent plagued by the archdemon’s Call was easier to endure than a day drifting through his routine in an exhausted, aching daze due to sleep deprivation. “It’s a twisted lullaby,” Daylen had joked, “but you get used to it. You don’t have much of a choice, really.”

“No, I don’t,” Finn had agreed, and Daylen had grown quiet. It wasn’t how he’d meant it, Finn knew, but that didn’t make it any less true.

So he held his lover through his convulsions and took the burn of Daylen’s fever against his collarbone, and in the mornings when he found bruises on his back from where Daylen’s fingers had ground into his skin from gripping him too tightly, he took those, too. He would take everything, if he could.

“One day,” Daylen told him as they lay in bed with the sweat-soaked sheets tangled around their legs and his hands still trembling from the ferocity of his grip, “you’ll have to let me go.”

“Maybe,” Finn allowed. He closed his eyes and tilted his chin down, kissed Daylen’s eyebrows until the tension left them and they smoothed themselves. He slid his fingers through the tangle of his lover’s damp ginger hair. “But not today.”

----

Fic bit was written by Middle-Marching on Tumblr, cuz I strong-armed her into doing it. I'm a horrible person. On the upside, this is the most happy I've been with a color piece in ages!

Brotoast RP-verse again, not Fugitive Trail related! Finn is copyright to Bioware, my Warden's design is copyright to myself.