Prince's fur is unbelievably soft, like some kind of weighted comfort pressed between the two of you. His head rests across your legs while 2-D's arms wrap lazily around your waist from behind, his chest rising and falling slowly against your back. It's quiet, just the soft hum of the air and the occasional sleepy sigh from the dog.
You think you've all officially melted into the mattress.
You feel 2-D shift slightly, his arm tightening before he murmurs, "Don't move. You're warm."
You smile to yourself. "You always say that."
"S'true," he says, voice groggy and sweet. "You're like... my own personal sun." He buries his face into your shoulder, nose brushing the side of your neck.
Prince lets out a deep snore. You laugh softly.
You three stay like that for a while. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour — time doesn't feel real when your with him.
Then, 2-D sits up, hair sticking out in every direction. "Wait here," he mumbles. "I got somethin'."
He slips out from behind you, steps over Prince, and disappears out the door. You lean back against the pillows, watching the ceiling. Your body's still heavy with comfort, and you nearly doze off again before he returns — guitar in hand, notebook tucked under his arm.
He plops down on the edge of the bed, pulling one leg up like he's done this a thousand times. The sunlight from the cracked window makes his blue hair glow.
"This's a new one," he says, eyes darting shyly to yours. "Not done yet, but... it's for you."
You blink. "You wrote me a song?"
He nods slowly. "Kinda wrote itself, actually."
He starts to strum. Soft chords, lazy and dreamy. His fingers move a little slower than usual, almost hesitant. You can tell he's nervous. But his voice — when it comes — is gentle and low, like it's meant only for you.
The lyrics are rough, simple, but honest.
About the way you laugh when you think no one's listening.
About how he feels safe when your next to him.
About late nights, warm beds, shared silence.
And you.
He keeps playing, glancing at you in between lines. You don't say anything. You don't need to.
His fingers hover over the strings at one point. He looks up again, eyes locking with yours.
I never thought I'd find home here -- and then I met you.
THE END
YOU ARE READING
Static Between Us - 2-D x Reader
RomanceKong Studios is falling apart - haunted halls, rotting pizza, and a band barely holding it together. You weren't supposed to matter much, just another tech behind the scenes. But then 2-D started crashing in your room, writing your name into songs...
