Dawn Chorus (Proxies x Reader)

Wrong Side of the Bed

Between the wall and Masky's bed is my warren. A thin dip I wedge my body into. Soft bedding presses into one side, on the other I can feel the lines between the strips of wood, feel the wood grain dig into my back even through clothes. My body aches constantly, though my bruises never last long. I nestle deeper into the crack between the wall and the bed, stare at the rise and fall of Masky's breath in the dark. It stopped being steady half an hour ago. A nightmare, or he is awake. The cabin has gotten cold, so cold I can see my breath plume from my mouth. I want to sleep, give my body a break, but my schedule has been thrown out of sorts, and the thickness of the chill in the air is more than enough to disrupt my fight to rest.

The slowly building tension in Masky's shoulders relaxes. He lifts his head to glance over his shoulder at me. His dark hair has fallen across his face like inky streaks in the dim light of the room.

"Powers out," he whispers. "You need to get under the comforters before you freeze. And actually get on the bed. The walls aren't well insulated."

I don't respond to him. I let my breath even out and my eyes drift closed. Pretend to sleep and he'll stop trying. The door creaks open. My body goes rigid, limbs locking in place like a toy. My nose twitches and I can't keep my eyes closed long. A large shadow swallows the doorway.

"Toby is coming too," Hoodie's voice fills the room.

He isn't talking loud, yet it is still a flood of sound filling every corner of the room and pushing down on my chest like a bolder. I wish the softness of the bed would allow me to sink into a different pocket of reality. Masky sighs and the bed softly creaks as he shifts back towards me.

"It isn't that cold," Masky grumbles.

"It is," Hoodie says.

His tone isn't argumentative and Masky doesn't argue back. It isn't that cold. Wrapped in a single blanket, braced between bedding and wall, I can wiggle my toes, and I'm not shivering. If I am hypothermic, I'd actually be able to sleep--I wouldn't wake up, but I would be asleep. Settling, now near me on the bed, Masky glances over his shoulders. His eyes are dark in the room, and I can only barely see his glare. He jerks up the covers, yanking them out from beneath me. The motion causes my head to knock against the wall.

"Under, now."

I shuffle forward as little as I can so the heavy blanket falls over me and my small cocoon. Masky quickly turns, wrestling me out from my tiny blanket to yank me fully on the bed, not even my leg left in the crack. Like the angry mother bear he is, he roughly tucks the comforter behind me, careful to not touch. His eyebrows are drawn in, lips curled in, a nervous twitch in one eyelid I can see only because he is now so close. His body tenses as the bed dips and creaks when Hoodie climbs in next to him. Soft footsteps pad down the hall.

"Will you be ok?" Hoodie asks with a surprising amount of concern and softness.

"Yeah," Masky mutters.

He takes a deep breath before scooting closed the last bit of space between us. I try to reel back, but his arms are around me to hold me in place. It's weird to be next to him so closely and not be injured or restrained. His breathing is tight, through gritted teeth, nose scrunched, eyes closed, shoulders tensed all the way up towards his ears. His arms are against mine, warm, soft, hairy. I try to wriggle back a bit, lessen the contact, and his shoulders sink a little.

"You don't like skin to skin contact," I whisper, trying to be quiet enough Hoodie doesn't hear.

Masky doesn't respond right away. He is silent as Toby shuts the door and takes up the last remaining space in the bed, packed like sardines together. He is silent as breaths even out and soft snores start to fill the room. It is much warmer now, warm enough I begin to shiver lightly. Maybe I had been hypothermic. He is silent long enough that I am convinced he is asleep.