Rammstein Fanfiction

In The Heat Of The Night

Summary:

Richard, Paul and a bout of insomnia

Notes:

Inspired, in part, by the amount of heat and humidity we've been getting in my part of England for the past week and a tad. Written for the following, incredibly sweet, prompt left on otpprompts on tumblr - Imagine your OTP sharing the same bed. One of them falls asleep to the other stroking their hair and murmuring in their ear.

The night was humid, air too still and close against Paul's skin as he turned restlessly over in bed. He checked the clock on the bedside table, and the time was writ large in glowing red numerals in the darkness, denoting it to be just after two in the morning. He groaned, and hastily tried to keep that one noise to a quiet huffing minimum for fear of waking Richard still sleeping beside him. Paul envied him that; Richard always had been a good sleeper, even when nights were hot and sticky.

Paul turned over again, and tried, once again, to slip into the arms of blissful sleep. His skin felt sticky with sweat; he'd already long since divested himself of everything except for his underwear and even that small piece of clothing felt too much against his otherwise naked body.

Paul sighed and considered going to the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He stood carefully so as not to disturb the other man and padded as quietly as he could through the close darkness of their shared flat. He soon reached the kitchen and poured himself a beer. He pulled the tub of ice cream from the freezer, scooped out a few spoonfuls before he began to eat, feeling the cool and creamy dessert soothing his parched throat better than the beer ever could. Paul closed his eyes and smiled, yet still he felt too hot, too sticky, the night too close against him.

Outside, the humidity finally began to dissolve into a thunderstorm, rain and thunder promising to wash everything but the resulting coolness behind. Already, Paul could hear the first fat splatters of raindrops against the kitchen window; he stood, carried his bowl of ice cream with him and leant against the wall to stare out at the darkened city beyond the glass. Even though he could see little bar the streetlights, he still could see the flash and play of lightning across the sky, streaking across darkened clouds in bright, bright forks. Rain hammered against the window, rolled down its glass near to Paul's face, yet still he felt too hot. The storm was still too young as yet to do little against the temperature.

"You gonna share that ice cream with me or what?" Richard's sleepy voice suddenly spoke from behind him.

Paul startled, almost dropped his half filled bowl to the floor before he turned to face Richard with a guilty smile.

"Sorry, I didn't wake you, did I?" was the first thing Paul thought to ask.

"No, the storm did," Richard said, as he cupped a yawn behind one hand. "Ice cream, please."

Paul huffed out a half amused, half exasperated laugh at Richard's gentle insistence and seemingly one track mind regarding the ice cream. Still, despite his exasperation, he scooped out a generous helping for the other man, glad for the company even if it meant that Richard also had to suffer with his insomnia for a time.

They sat in silence, as they ate, each man occasionally taking a sip from their beers, before the ice cream was gone and the bowls piled in the sink. Paul began to wash up, yet Richard turned the tap off again with a snort.

"That can wait til morning," he said, a yawn bisecting his face.

It was only then that Paul realized just how tired Richard was, and that the other man had only stayed up to be with him. Paul suddenly felt a stab of guilt over that, and he nodded; he offered no resistance as Richard led him away from the sink.

"I'm sorry for keeping you awake," Paul murmured, as he followed the other man into the darkness of their bedroom.

"I didn't have to stay up," Richard muttered, as he coaxed Paul closer against him once they both were settled upon the bed. "Wanted to."

Paul almost protested that it was too hot to snuggle, yet there was something comforting, and all too familiar with being wrapped in Richard's arms, reminiscent of spending many a night doing just that that he raised no complaint at all, in the end. Instead, he laid his head against Richard's shoulder, and closed his eyes. He smiled, and felt, rather than heard, the other man chuckle a little.

"Thanks, Reesh," Paul murmured against the other man's shoulder, as he rested one hand against Richard's sweat-sticky back.

He felt Richard's mouth against his scalp as the other man dropped a kiss against Paul's head, one broad hand rubbing at Paul's back in slow circles. Paul sighed, felt himself relaxing against the other man as Richard kissed him again.

"This reminds me of the time when we moved in," Richard murmured. "It was raining, then, as well."

Paul huffed out a laugh at that, eyes halfway to being closed, as sleep began to claim him.

"I remember you getting angry because we didn't have a proper bed," he murmured back, in response to Richard's comment.

Richard laughed quietly at that, chest rising and falling with that one soft noise as he did so.

"Wasn't my fault the delivery men hadn't arrived yet," Richard replied.

"We, at least, had a mattress, though," Paul reminded him. "It didn't stop us from having a good night's sleep."

"I remember," Richard said, and it sounded to Paul as though the other man was smiling by the warmth in his tone. "I remember the fantastic sex we had that night, as well."

Paul hummed at that, and smiled at the memory of it.

"See, not all bad," he said, with a yawn against Richard's shoulder.

Richard raised one hand and started to stroke calming fingers against Paul's head, each movement gentle, and soothing; he knew how Paul had always loved to be touched, to be comforted, whilst in bed. Richard, although never one to be a snuggler before Paul, had grown accustomed to it and had even begun to initiate active snuggling in recent times, which often delighted Paul. Both knew, however, that Richard would not abide the same pursuit with anyone other than Paul.

Richard felt Paul sigh and yawn against him, breath hot against his sweating chest. He smiled as Paul settled a little closer, head nestling a little further against Richard's stroking palm. He heard the other man sighing in approval, which, in turn, made Richard sigh.

"Hey, Paul? Remember that time when we went camping?" Richard murmured, as he felt Paul relax yet more against him.

"Which time?" Paul murmured back, words lazier and more languid than they had once been. "Tell me again."

Paul smiled, and listened as Richard murmured out memories of the night in question against the top of his head, of how they'd cooked bread and beans over the fire for their supper, of how they'd eaten toasted marshmallows and chocolate beneath the stars, of how they'd tried to count them and failed to go past a hundred. Paul had then pointed out various constellations, some of which Richard thought that Paul had fabricated, judging by the odd and fantastical names that the other man had reamed out; that memory, at least, made Richard laugh, more for Paul's sheer inventiveness and subsequent rude jokes regarding the Phallic Constellation. Paul slowly felt the arms of sleep slide around him in its eternal embrace, body and mind soothed by the cadence of Richard's voice, and the happy memories that the other man recounted.

Richard smiled when he realized that Paul had finally gone to sleep, body lax and heavy against him, gentle snores leaking past parted lips. Richard smiled in affectionate amusement, before pressing one last kiss against the top of Paul's head; he rested his cheek against the other man's forehead, arms still wrapped securely around Paul's body, before he finally slipped into sleep himself.