Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Heads up, it's all x reader except for a few platonic Radiant and Unstable and Unpredictable family moments.

Chapter Text

“So… saw you on a date yesterday.” Radiant_Day’s grin stretched a little too wide, his laugh too high-pitched to be casual. “The guy looked nice. You seemed so…smitten.”

You blinked, giving him a confused glance.

“What?”

“Yesterday,” he repeated, voice lighter than usual. “You were at our usual restaurant with some guy. He was about the same height as me, and had brown hair. Kinda like mine too.”

Oh. That.

One of your friends has tried to set you up on a date – claimed you needed more social interaction. You had argued against it, but eventually caved after weeks of nagging.

The date itself was… average. The guy was nice, polite even, but he wasn’t remarkable. There were no sparks, nothing extraordinary. You barely even recalled his name, let alone his face – just a vague shade of brown hair that you remembered because it reminded you of Radiant_Day, not because it was remarkable.

“He was nice. We talked, but I didn’t feel like taking it further.” You said with a shrug, glancing back down at your hands. “Not much of a connection. It was more of a social experiment than anything.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool. Totally cool. It’s definitely, very, one hundred and one percent cool.” Radiant_Day let out a sound somewhere between a sigh of relief and a wheeze of panic. His shoulders remained tense and tight. “It’s just, well he had brown hair and I have brown hair. We’re both brunettes.”

He gave you a look – half challenge, half plea. A quiet sort of desperation wrapped in a joke.

“It’s funny, right?” he added, voice lighter than it should’ve been. His smile looked like it hurt. “You took a brunette out on a date, I’m a brunette. He was my height too. He could pass as my stunt double, even. Hilarious, really, how the one time you go on a date, it’s with a guy that looks like me.”

He gave an awkward, choked laugh. Maybe he had something stuck in his throat.

“A lot of people are brunettes, now you mention it. Never noticed how often I see brown hair more than blond or black.” You tilted your head, humming softly in thought. “I think I like your hair best though. It’s a nice shade of brown, nicest I’ve seen.”

Radiant_Day stared at you for a beat, expression shifting between frustrated, flabbergasted and flustered.

“...You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” he accused, half hopeful, half accusing

“Huh?”

Chapter Text

Every Sunday, you would listen to the leaking of the sink as you did the ironing. It would echo throughout the apartment like a tiny metronome, rhythmic and continuous.

Scary_Day said he would fix it eventually.

“When I have the time,” he’d say. Occasionally, “After I finish this whiskey.”

He never really found the time, and the bottle always had a little bit more at the bottom.

Every night, you would cook dinner. On Tuesdays, you’d make spaghetti even though neither of you particularly liked it. Every morning, he would burn toast and call it breakfast, served with a side of coffee. Sometimes, it would have too much sugar. Other times, too much cream.

You drank it anyways.

It had been ten years since he had accompanied you to the courthouse, since he had slipped that ring on you and kissed you with so much passion you were sure it would last forever.

It had been a long time since he had kissed you like that.

Now, Scary_Day kissed you with a more subtle energy. His lips would brush your forehead every morning before he left your work, then return back to your cheek when he came back long after midnight.

Loving each other used to be a hobby. Now it was a habit.

Every Friday, you’d catch him at the balcony late in the evening. He’d have a cigarette in one hand, the other hanging by his side, waiting for you like usual. You would say nothing as you slip into his side, taking it with your own. He said nothing either, other than giving your hand a small squeeze to acknowledge it and the two of you would watch the sunset in silence.

People looked at you like you were crazy when they found out how long you had been married to him. It was normally followed by a “You deserve better” or “How do you deal with him?”

Once, he had brought you along to a work event with him. Radiant_Day had pulled you aside with a look of concern and asked if you were happy.

You had responded with a blank, guarded look and a simple “I’m not unhappy.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He’s my husband.”

That was all the two of you had managed to exchange before said man had appeared and took you away again.

You used to think love was supposed to be passionate and overwhelming. In a way, it was. The passion had simply burned out, leaving behind the warm smoldering embers.

Being married to Scary_Day wasn’t what you thought it’d be. It wasn’t what it used to be.

But it is what you’re used to.

So every morning, you’ll wake up to the dull dripping of the sink, eat the burnt toast and drink the coffee he put too much sugar in. You’ll wait for him to kiss you before he leaves and you’ll hold his hand while he smokes on the balcony.

Maybe you are crazy for staying. But whenever the two of you lay in bed at night, side by side, you'd listen to your breaths sync together and you slept knowing that the two of you were still together.

Chapter Text

The fire was starting to die down.

Unstable_Day felt the heat start too cool as the wind made contact. The roof of the airplane had been ripped off, revealing the endless blue of the sky, streaked with orange from the sunset – or was it the fire?

Unstable couldn’t tell anymore, neither did he particularly care. His vision had started blurring long ago, and it was finally beginning to darken.

He couldn’t move.

A warm pool of blood had gathered beneath his body, soaking his clothes and skin. His skull was throbbing from where it had slammed against the control panel, the cause of the plane going haywire in the first place.

His chest was stuttering, breaths shallow and uncertain. His mouth had grown numb to the taste of iron by now.

He wondered where Unpredictable_Day was. What he was thinking. He had long given up crying and screaming after the other operative now, his throat torn from his despair. Not that it would matter. He wasn’t returning. No one was coming back. Not for him.

He had crashed planes before, but this one felt different. It felt like death.

Unstable_Day thought about his brothers. Would Unpredictable_Day tell Radiant_Day what had happened? Or would he lie and point the finger at him? Would Radiant_Day care? Would anyone?

Would you?

Unstable_Day finally felt his eyes closing. The static in his brain was growing louder, yet the image of your face was clear as ever. You would probably be furious at him for dying out here like this, for being foolish and overestimating himself.

He could barely hear his own thoughts now. He wasn’t sure if he was even breathing anymore.

He could hear the faint crackle of the fire, still ongoing yet smaller now. Dying alongside him.

You used to scold him. Tell him off for leaving candy wrappers around carelessly.

“You’re so careless. Worse than dealing with the experiments!” You’d exclaim as he sheepishly scooped up the wrappers, shoving them into his pockets to forget about later.

He smiled at the memory. Or maybe he didn’t. He couldn’t feel his own body anymore.

Yet, he wasn’t quite afraid. Upset at being left behind, angry at how he got into this position. But not quite scared of what might come next.

If this was his final stop, then so be it.

Because in his last moments, as his chest began to still, he didn’t see blood, death or the war. He didn’t feel the heat of the fire around him.

He saw your eyes staring back at him. He felt a pair of hands holding his, heard a mouth he never had the courage to kiss, whispering words that made him feel less monster, more man.

If there really was anything after this, Unstable_Day just hoped that he would remember you through it.

Chapter Text

Radiant was not dead.

That was what Unstable_Day told himself, staring blankly at Unpredictable_Day. His ears had been filled with a high-pitched ringing, eyes glazing over as he stared past his cousin – his brother– like he wasn’t really there.

Radiant was not dead.

Unpredictable_Day was just fucking around. Or it was a prank, where Radiant was hiding around the corner and waiting to scare him like he used to do when they were kids. He’d jump out from the corner at any moment now, laughing and everything would go back to normal. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. He had talked to Radiant this morning, rambled on about the repairs he was going to do on the blimp before he left.

He carefully glanced at Unpredictable_Day’s eyes. Bloodshot and puffy from tears. He had never seen him cry before, not even when their parents died. His mouth was trembling. His eyes were brown, just like Radiant’s. Too much like them.

He looked away again.

Radiant was not dead.

He barely resisted as Unpredictable_Day led him out the facility. He hadn’t even processed it. His mind had wandered somewhere far away, someplace Radiant would be. Someplace warm, and loud with laughter.

Radiant was not dead.

He stared blankly down at the white cloth, unable to move even as Benevolent_Day and Macabre_Day’s voice droned on. They were talking to Unpredictable_Day. No one had tried talking to him. Not yet. They knew better.

That body underneath that white cloth wasn’t Radiant. Radiant wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. It may have had his face, but it wasn’t him. Radiant was somewhere else, smiling and alive like he always was and would always be. He was sitting back at the theater, tuning his guitar as he hummed a new song he was writing. Or maybe he was at the bar, waiting for Unstable_Day and Unpredictable_Day to join him like they had agreed to yesterday. If Unstable_Day went home, he’d see Radiant at his usual spot on the couch with takeout sitting on the table, their favourite that he had picked up on the way home.

Radiant was not dead.

He couldn’t be dead.

Unstable_Day closed his eyes.

He remembered one afternoon, when they were kids, no older than 10. Unpredictable had been a grouch as usual and they had been arguing with each other like usual. Radiant had stepped in as a mediator, distracting them both with a quick race to the corner store. He had been running alongside him then, wind blowing against them and for a moment, they were free.

Unstable opened them and stared back down at the fabric again.

Radiant wasn’t dead. He was free, running with the wind somewhere down to the corner shop. He was laughing and young and nothing mattered except being the first to enter the store.

Radiant wasn’t dead, Unstable echoed in his mind. He wasn’t dead.

And for a moment, he almost believed it.

Chapter Text

The faint sound of his prosthetics whirring was the only sound that filled the vehicle at the moment. Great_Day sat in the back seat, a generous bouquet buckled in beside him, eyes fixed ahead as he awaited the familiar turn that would lead to your estate.

It had been 25 years since the war started, 20 years since he had last seen you and just 2 days since he had signed the peace treaty.

For two decades, the only glimpses he had of you came from photographs, moments untouched by time and shipped across continents and battlefields. He had missed everything – your voice, your presence, your touch . Even now, the memories of you would still play out in his mind as vividly as the day he made them, untouched by time.

He turned towards the window, watching as the vibrant green fields stretched endlessly, a stark contrast to the bland grey urban sprawl he’d grown used to. He had deliberately chosen this place for you. It was remote, safe and far from the reaches of conflict. He never wanted you to see the horrors of the war or carry the weight of it.

He remembered the day he made the decision. It had torn at him, but the war was approaching closer to home and he couldn’t bear the thought of putting you at risk.

The car slowed as it neared the final bend, tires crunching over gravel. His heart, trained to be steady under pressure, began to beat irregularly under the weight of anticipation. It had been 20 years since he had seen your face. 20 long years of longing for you and reading each letter you sent like scriptures.

You had sworn you’d always love him, promised you’d wait for the day the two of you could see each other and fall in love all over again.

But would you?

Could you really, even after all this time? If you knew the things he had done, the changes he had gone through? He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, half his face gone and replaced with cybernetics while the other half was barely anything human anymore. He was far from the same man you had loved, no longer the man who kissed you goodbye before leaving you on that porch. War had changed him, in body, mind and soul.

He hadn’t even thought of what he wanted to say. No practised speech, no extravagant gesture to make it up to you. Just whatever pieces of himself he still had left and a bouquet prepared in a rush.

The trees thinned, revealing the familiar silhouette of the house. It looked the same the day he had dropped you off here. Whitewashed walls, a sloping roof and a large garden that looked lovingly maintained. Life had continued here, untouched by atrocities while his had fractured and reassembled a hundred different ways.

Scary_Day glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his voice flat. “We’re here, [SUPREME RULER].”

Great_Day nodded, still unmoving. He glanced down at his hand, his wedding band still gleamed in the light as he let the silence settle. Then, slowly, he reached for the door, the metallic creak of his joints softened by the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves outside.

He stepped out, the weight of the bouquet felt awkward in his hands, like a symbol of a world parallel to his. He had grown used to holding a gun, yet flowers felt more dangerous. They were soft, vulnerable, fragile. Like everything he was afraid to be. He held it tight anyways.

He had barely made it up the stairs when the door flew open, revealing you.

You were older, yes, yet still beautiful and untouched by time. Great_Day released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his hands shaking as it left him. The words he wanted to say evaporated on his tongue as he took in your presence.

For a moment, the two of you were silent.

Then you smiled, and suddenly he was still young again. Before the war, before the losses, before the corruption of war and power.

“Welcome home,” you greeted.

And for the first time in 20 years, he was.

Chapter Text

Unstable_Day liked to think of you while he was at work.

Your beauty was enough to make him forget even the most pressing tasks that had been assigned to him. It was as if everything else in the world disappeared when he thought of you. Your eyes were mesmerising, pulling him in to get lost and never find his way out. They sparkled in the sunlight like precious gems and looked at him like he was someone — someone with a name worth remembering, someone important enough to pay attention to, someone who was more than enough.

Your lips were soft and tender against his, leaving him flushed and grinning from ear to ear like a fool whenever they brushed his skin. The way they pressed so gently against his cheeks, his hands, his mouth — it always left him leaning in for more, pulling him closer to you. And when they lifted to form that dazzling beam, it was like the world shifted and brightened everything around him.

Your hands would hold him so tenderly, like he could finally rest in your arms and not worry about anything. They would caress his face after he had a long day, holding his head high when everything felt too heavy to bear and warming him in an instant. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes and stood under the rare rays of sunlight that slipped through the endless sea of gray clouds, he could pretend you were right there in front of him, holding him tight and warming him with just your touch.

You were perfect, in every way.

He couldn’t wait to get off his shift and see you again.

Unstable_Day gasped for air. There was too much blood pouring from his face, getting in his nose and mouth and choking him. The fire around him was too hot, the ringing in his ears too deafening and every second felt like his last.

Unpredictable_Day was long gone now, swallowed by the chaos and leaving him broken and lost.

He closed his eyes and let out a laboured breath, his thoughts shifting towards you in what seemed like the final time.

God, you stunning. Your warm bright eyes never failed to captivate him in your gaze, catching his attention and making everything else fade away. He adored the way you looked at him, like he was someone who mattered, someone worthy of getting to know. It never failed to provide him comfort and calm him, giving him reason to go on.

Your lips would press against his lovingly, like the promise of something better. Your kisses were sweet and tender, leaving him yearning for more. Your smile was as bright as the sun, breaking through a storm and lighting up the room once it showed. Everything would feel right.

He could almost feel your arms around him, warmth washing over him and holding him close. Your hands would tilt his head towards you, stroking his cheeks gently as he melted in your presence. You’d tell him it was going to be okay, that he wasn’t alone and he was loved. It never failed to lift his spirits, giving him reason to go on. If he closed his eyes one more time, he could pretend you were right here next to him.

You were perfect in every way.

He hoped he could see you again.

It hurt to think. The only thing he could focus on through the fog of pain was the steady beeping of the heart monitor. He couldn’t feel his own body.

Unstable_Day missed you.

You had beautiful eyes that captured his attention with a glance, just like a magnet. The way you looked at him was incredibly comforting, like you truly saw him and thought of him highly.

Your lips would grace him with gentle kisses, telling him without words that he was loved. Your affection never failed to lift his spirits, and that beaming smile of yours could light up even his darkest days.

The way you held him, your arms wrapping around him with such tenderness, always got him to melt in your embrace. He felt safe and warm in your arms, as if you were giving him strength.

You were perfect.

He needed to see you again.

Unstable_Day blinked, squinting against the fading sunlight.

What was he thinking about again?

Chapter Text

The snow fell relentlessly today, a biting cold that seemed to seep through every crack in the lab. Even with the heaters humming in the background and Emotionless_Day’s coat draped over your shoulders, you still shivered intermittently. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he collected his samples, the tension in your posture not going unnoticed.

His fingers twitched, hovering over the buttons on the wall that controlled the heating system. If he raised the temperature, it might ease the discomfort, but it would take time. He considered the other quicker, more direct solution.

Skin to skin contact was one of the most efficient ways to maintain warmth after all, and Emotionless_Day was no stranger to skin contact. Especially not with you. The thought lingered in his head for a moment, memories of last night rushing back as he recalled the way you had been so close to him, close enough that he could count the number of breaths you took in a minute. 14 at first, before slowing down to 19 the longer he stayed.

No. Focus. His chest tightened, heat rising to his face that he quickly pushed away. He was doing this for the good of your well-being. Still, maybe you’d find it comforting if he offered. And maybe you’d even seek him out for more.

He set the samples he was holding down and turned to look at you. Your eyes were fixed on the glass beaker in front of you, your shoulders tense as you clutched his coat tighter around yourself. The sight didn’t exactly spark anything particularly affectionate in him, but there was something inside him that itched to take a picture and memorise every detail about the scene.

Before he could even take a step closer, he was snapped out of it by Benevolent_Day’s voice.

“You look cold. Do you want me to help warm your hands?” The doctor’s voice felt like a sharp contrast to the cold atmosphere, warm and concerned as he stepped into the room. Emotionless_Day blinked at the sudden interruption, watching as the other day operative moved towards you.

His gaze lingered on the contact between the two of you, watching as Benevolent_Day covered your hands with his own.

Of course. He had forgotten that the doctor would be coming over today, much less recall that the two of you were on good terms.

He averted his gaze, feeling a sharp pang of discomfort as he listened to the doctor fuss over you. His fingers curled into fists at his side before he forced them to relax. He shouldn’t have been bothered by this. He wanted you to be warm, and Benevolent_Day was helping you get warm. Still, he couldn’t ignore the unusual tightening in his stomach as Benevolent_Day’s voice drifted over to him, soft and kind and unlike him.

“You’re freezing,” Benevolent_Day continued, oblivious to the tension that had gathered in Emotionless_Day. “I can take you to the break room. The heaters there are much more effective. I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

He could have done that. He could have taken you to the break room by himself, without anyone else interfering.

Then again, he couldn’t do it like how Benevolent_Day was doing it, could he? His hands enveloped yours, gentle like he was holding something precious and Emotionless_Day couldn’t replicate that. For a moment, something struck him and he struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was.

It wasn’t jealousy, was it? He was supposed to be the one who took care of you, who made sure all your needs were met. And he was certain he had done a thorough job so far. You hadn’t complained yet, that meant something didn’t it?

He was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice, his heart skipping a beat at the noise as he registered you had refused the offer. He glanced back at the two of you, observing the contrast between the cold, sterile environment of the lab to the warmth and care Benevolent_Day so freely gave you. He ignored the unease creeping up his throat, the feeling that something was slipping out of his grasp.

He was supposed to be emotionless, that was what he was named for after all. His role meant he had to be efficient, detached and above all, indifferent. His purpose wasn’t to be close or vulnerable.

Yet as Benevolent_Day continued to fuss over you, he was faced with the uncomfortable revelation that he had undoubtedly strayed from his role as another cog in the machine to something uncharted he had yet to make sense of. You had made him stray, had coaxed him out of the box that provided the structure he followed everyday right into your arms, and he had no way of knowing how to function without structure. He wasn’t detached and indifferent, at least not anymore.

It wasn’t that he hated it, quite the opposite. But there was no denying that he lacked a crucial aspect in his ability to form bonds with others. He was unable to truly ever encapsulate the warmth and kindness that other operatives such as Benevolent_Day and Radiant_Day could provide without reservations.

Was that why you talked to the other operatives still? Because he was unable to give you what they had, a true and easy connection that came without strain? The thought gnawed at him. He knew he wasn’t exactly easy to be around, that he wasn’t even easy to talk to. It made him question why you even bothered to look for him for anything at all.

Yet, against all odds and chances, you did. You sought him out, day after day and stayed. You stayed with him, chose him despite the hurdles and inconvenience it would cause. That meant you wanted him, but if that were the case then why did you still seem to have an interest in his coworkers?

It wasn’t logical at all.

He barely registered Benevolent_Day leaving the room, giving the doctor an absentminded nod as he turned to face you.

“...Do you prefer [OPERATIVE] Benevolent_Day over me?” He spoke before he could stop his words.

He watched as the expression on your face shifted to surprise and you shook your head. You looked unsure, but the lack of tension in you meant you trusted him enough to be honest.

“Then why do you talk to him?” Emotionless_Day’s tone was more vulnerable than he had intended and his eyes immediately dropped, avoiding yours. He felt exposed, like a part of him he had always hid was slipping out.

He wasn’t supposed to care. He couldn’t. “Isn’t it enough that you have me?”

He didn’t look at you as he said it, but he could tell you were surprised by his admission. It was a crack on his otherwise impenetrable facade, a glimpse into the surface of his mind.

He didn’t know what he felt like this, why this horrible sensation was creeping up his throat and suffocating him, but he did know that you held the solutions to all of them. And the fact made him more uncomfortable than ever. He wasn’t supposed to care about things like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel.

“You have me,” he muttered, more to himself now. “And I gave you everything. So why do you still need him?”

He didn’t know if you wanted you to acknowledge this or not. He didn’t know if it was worse for you to ignore his emotions, or for him to acknowledge that he wasn’t so apathetic anymore.

The metallic hum of the heater was the only thing that filled the silence between the two of you. Emotionless_Day stayed silent, barely breathing as he waited for you to respond, to confirm or deny his growing uncertainty.

He could arrange for you to stay with him, stay by his side and only his without ever talking to anyone else. He had considered it before. He had the power, all it took was a simple order and you would have to obey. He could keep you by his side, safe and all his, isolated from anyone else.

But that wouldn’t be right, especially not to you. And he had no desire to control your every move like a puppeteer—he just wanted you to for himself, as confusing and alien as it was.

He pressed his lips tightly together, closing his eyes as he attempted to compose himself. Emotionless_Day could have spent the rest of his lifespan without these… emotions, and he should have. They got in the way of his purpose after all, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate them if it meant he could feel the warmth you offered him.

His gaze snapped back up as he heard the sound of you taking a tentative step towards him. Before he knew it, you were right in front of him and soon your arms were around him and he was in a hug. His breath stilled for a moment and he hadn’t realised how rigid his posture was until it relaxed in your embrace.

His hands hovered over your form for a moment, before settling on your back in a hesitant hold of reciprocated affection. He knew he wasn’t the best at loving you back, but he could try. He would try, experiment over and over again until he could perfect it and you’d never leave him again because he couldn’t give you the genuine warmth you needed.

Chapter Text

It was raining when he woke up.

The soft patter of rain was a rhythmic tune that pulled Emotionless_Day from the edges of sleep. As always, his body had stirred precisely at 6 AM, an instinct honed and ingrained after years of service to the Days Union.

But today, something was out of place. A few inches away from his, settled in a small indent on the pillow, was your face.

Right. You had stayed the night.

Seeing you in his bed with your messy hair, snoring and drooling—unapologetically flawed yet undeniably you—in the world he had built around himself where order was a requirement, not optional, felt like a jarring contrast to everything he had dedicated himself to. The sight of you, so unguarded, so unpolished, pulled him into a brief, suspended moment, like a glitch in the sterile reality he’d so carefully constructed around himself.

You weren’t some polished perfect being. You were messy and real and everything he wasn’t. For a brief second, something tugged at his chest, an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Perhaps it was discomfort. Or maybe something else, closer to longing.

You weren’t like him, that much was painfully clear. You had no prescribed path, no mission, no singular purpose. You were free to live in the moment, free to simply feel and be yourself without the need to follow a straightforward course that had already been determined for you. He couldn’t fathom it—couldn’t understand how you could live without a fixed direction. Your life sounded like a chaotic series of endless steps, yet it seemed to bring you fulfilment—happiness even, at times.

When he became a day operative, he had been given a clear, singular directive. Serve the Union, be useful, and be efficient. Anything that interfered with that purpose had to be eliminated, there was no room for distractions. At least, that had been the case, until you walked in and suddenly he wasn’t confined to a single route anymore. You had thrown his carefully constructed world into disarray, and he had let you.

For years, he’d methodically shaped every aspect of himself: his personality, his mannerisms, his thoughts. There had been no room for spontaneity, no need to step outside the rigid walls he’d built. Until you.

And now, as you lay beside him, face mere inches away from his, he felt an alien tug at his heart—an unfamiliar yearning he’d only begun to feel recently.

He wanted to be imperfect. He had watched in quiet fascination as you and everyone else around him grappled with the flaws that came with being alive—the messiness of emotions, decisions, vulnerability—and yet, somehow, you thrived. You felt—with everything you had—even if it meant getting hurt, both physically and emotionally. It was an unfiltered messy way of living, and somehow, you made him long for it.

He wanted it.

He wanted to be messy and imperfect and just feel, exactly like you could. He wanted to be capable of that beautiful, messy chaos that you were surrounded by instead of being stuck in his narrow road that had been paved out for him. It was a longing that had always lingered at the back of his mind but now, it seemed to hit him all at once and Emotionless_Day found himself dizzy with want.

He exhaled softly, pushing it aside.

Emotionless_Day shifted, rolling onto his back as his uncertainty set in. He never had someone to just be there, to show him what it was like to simply live. He could feel the weight of your presence at his side, a constant hum against his nerves like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and suddenly your head found its way to his shoulder.

He should have woken you up. Pull away and get up, prepare for the day as he had done so for years. If he was a stronger, better operative like he was trained to be, he would. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed, stilled, slowing his movements and feeling the warmth of the moment settle between you.

The heat from your body pressed against him made his pulse thrum in an erratic rhythm. He could feel every inch of you against him, your hand resting on his arm, the soft exhale of your breath against the curve of his neck. It wasn’t that he disliked the closeness, but he had never really allowed himself to feel anything like it before you. He wasn’t used to this—the affection, the warmth, the need for something he couldn’t name. It felt like a weakness, an anomaly he was never meant to stumble upon.

Weakness.

He had been trained to avoid it. Vulnerability was nothing more than a flaw to be discarded, a chink in the armor that would inevitably be exploited. Yet here he was, laying next to you in the most exposed position possible.

Your presence, so unbidden and unintentional, had invaded a place inside him he didn’t even know existed. You were here, in his world, not as a soldier or as a tool of the Union, but as you—alive in a way that made him wonder if he’d ever truly lived at all.

The moment stretched between the two of you, the sound of rain tapping against the window being the only thing that filled the silence. It was peaceful, and that unsettled him. This wasn’t how his mornings usually felt. He didn’t know how long the two of you lay there, suspended in the moment like stars in space orbiting each other.

But what he did know was how your head felt as it rested on his shoulder, the way your breath hit the skin of his collarbones and how you looked in your sleep, vulnerable and unafraid. For once, he simply allowed himself to do something for himself. Something selfish, that served no purpose.

He closed his eyes again, allowing his mind to relax its constant vigilance as he took in the fragile stillness of this moment. Emotionless_Day’s hand, almost of its own accord, moved to rest over you in an almost hesitant hold, as if uncertain of his reception by your side.

For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel.