“Aiden, really. You’re stupid when you’re tired. Try some ambien for once.” Damien’s dry tones cut through the throbbing headache he’d been struggling with for hours, and Aiden hissed softly as the lights came on. Maybe the glare of computer screens hadn’t been good for him, but it was still better than the cheap bulbs in their apartment.
“You think I haven’t tried?” he gritted out, pressing his palms into the burning coals his eyes had become. The ache stabbed into his skull, grinding through his sinuses and down into his jaw, and he was pretty sure death would be a blessing at this point. He hadn’t slept in four days. By now, the headache was bad enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.
Cool fingertips pressed to his temples, trailing down his cheeks to his jaw, then traveled back to brush up against the taut muscles in his neck. A second later, Damien let out a put-upon sigh and tugged Aiden’s chair backwards. Away from the computer.
Not like it would do much, but Aiden let out a pained noise at the motion anyways.
“Here. Let me see your face.” Damien’s long, elegant fingers curled around his wrists, tugging until Aiden finally gave up and let them be pulled away. The light cut into his brain, dragging tears up that Aiden had to blink away just to catch a clear glimpse of Damien’s expression. Faintly exasperated, faintly pitying, but mostly amused. Damien was like a cat in some ways, always finding the funny side of whatever bullshit happened to them.
Now that Aiden’s face was uncovered, Damien shifted his grip, pressed his fingers tight against the bridge of Aiden’s nose. The pain doubled, tripled, increased exponentially until he thought his head would explode, he’d throw up and die, god what the fuck was Damien—
And then, abruptly, it was gone.
He blinked. Dragged in a ragged breath that almost felt like a sob, his own hands wrapped around Damien’s wrists hard enough to bruise. Blinked again when the pain didn’t make a reappearance, successfully beaten back into a dull, faint throb at the base of his skull.
“What the fuck,” Aiden said blankly, blinking tears away as he gentled his grip on Damien’s wrists.
“It’s a trick for killing a migraine fast,” Damien told him, words dripping with smugness. “Of course, it’ll come back again if you don’t sleep, but you knew that already. Come on tiger, let’s get you into bed. You’re useless to me if you can’t break into that Titus field office we’re planning on robbing.”
Still dazed, Aiden let himself be tugged up and out of the chair. Damien was right—the code wasn’t for anything vital, and they did have a small window before Titus’s updated security system cut off their access entirely. He just… hadn’t thought he’d be able to sleep. Not with his head aching the way it had been. Not with his insomnia acting up worse than usual.
But now the headache was gone, and even if the office was now brightly lit, Damien had magnanimously left the bedroom of their hideout dark and cool. The bed was half-made, sheets tangled and so terribly inviting, and Aiden struggled out of his sweater as he stumbled towards it. Maybe, if he was lucky, it would work this time. Maybe he’d be able to sleep.
“Are you staying?” he remembered to ask a second too late, the words muffled by the cotton of his undershirt.
“Of course I’m staying,” Damien said, dry and so utterly in control of himself, like always. “What are partners for?”