Chapter Text
“This sucks ass.” Scissors groaned.
“Shut up.” Paper kicked him underneath the thin, scratchy sheets.
“I’m so uncomfy.”
“We get the picture.”
Although Rock’s bed came out completely unharmed, Scissors’ bed had to be thrown out—not via catapult, sadly—due to the Garbage Kingdom’s little glass-shard-people deciding it should be their own personal enclave. (He was fine to live with them, too; Paper had to pry him off the bed.)
Additionally, Paper’s bed had begun growing black mold. Yeah. That was a nice surprise to identify after sleeping on it for seven hours straight. His mattress got to be thrown out via catapult at least.
Currently, Rock was the only roommate blessed with a bed. Multiple emails had been sent to that one mattress company they bought from, but the company hadn’t replied to a single one. They might’ve discontinued that lifetime-guarantee policy after Rock and Scissors’ free stuff fiasco, unless they discontinued it exclusively for them, just their luck.
Along with the two beds, their couch had to be replaced. It shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was finding out most of their furniture had to become trash along with the actual Garbage Kingdom that resided among it.
After disposing of the kingdom, the day couldn’t get more exhausting as Rock and Paper did a deep, Bleach-heavy clean of nearly every square inch of their apartment (with Scissors being little to no help, to the shock of no one). When Paper finished storing the cleaning supplies, he wiped across his damp temple and headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. By the time he was ready for bed, in fresh jammies and his teeth brushed, Rock had been passed out for a while. Peeking his head into the room, Paper did a double take when he saw Scissors laying awake on the ground. As soon as he noticed his presence, Scissors stood up in a fit of temper and stomped out the room. Paper shushed him like a librarian, warning him to chill with the stomping and carefully closed Rock’s door without a sound.
Furiously getting himself a glass of water in the kitchen, Scissors ranted in a low volume about what happened when he tried to sleep next to their fellow roommate. Even though Rock invited them to bunk with him, Scissors realized it wasn’t the best option. It would be if it was actually possible.
Who could’ve guessed Rock didn’t exactly sleep like one? After being roommates for half a decade, they obviously knew Rock vogued in his sleep—it just never registered that that also meant getting flung off the mattress if you shared a bed with him.
Even Scissors had to agree that it was time for the last resort. They had to sleep somehow, and the twin-sized inflatable mattress they were using as a temporary couch had held up great.
Well—it held up decent.
Okay, no, it was pretty bad.
For the record, Paper also thought the whole situation sucked ass.
A solid five minutes of Paper’s tossing and turning inched by. Two insufferable hours had passed since the two got into the bed and still he wasn’t used to the new sleeping arrangement. But who could blame him—he hated change with a passion, no matter how small. The thing was he wasn’t all that bothered about sleeping next to another person, or even the absence of the comfort of his bedroom, no—he was hung up on the fact he didn’t have a pillow to squeeze onto. The awkward space in his arms, the maddening vacancy in front of his chest—he despised it. It proved problematic, and when Paper had a problem, it was bound to become everyone else’s soon. Or at the very least, his roommates’.
“Scissors. I can’t fall asleep.” He spoke to the ceiling, his hands folded atop his ribs.
“I can tell.” Scissors’ voice grumbled with vocal fry.
“Are you sure there’s not one thing I can hug?” Paper wearily asked, though he already knew the answer.
“You miss your stupid goddamn body pillow that bad? Just hug yourself.” Scissors hurled an arm over his forehead. On the mattress, they only had one pillow each for their heads, both borrowed from Rock. That’s all he could, or rather would, give to them.
“It doesn’t even have to be a body pillow—a normal pillow would suffice.” He rolled to lay on his side, slightly rocking back and forth.
“Well, all your precious pillows were used by the Garbage Kingdom for jungle gyms, bouncy houses, and various hospital beds.”
“I can’t believe how bad you let it get…”
“We’ve already been over that a gajillion times.”
“Gajillion is not a real number.”
Scissors didn’t dignify him with a response, only jerking his body to lay on his side as well. Dramatically, Paper exhaled.
“I give up. I should just get a book and spend another all-nighter. Now that I think about it, my new experiment could use some tweaking—”
“GODDAMN, fine! Just—” He grabbed aimlessly behind him for Paper’s arms and wrapped one around his front.
They both froze. Paper’s breathing was stilted, the apartment’s chlorine-smelling air seeming stuffier than usual. After a moment, he relaxed, snaking his right arm underneath Scissors’ hip. Oh, Paper’s arm could manage the weight of his shorter frame just fine; as a matter of fact, it was pleasant. Finally, he was in his ideal position to fall asleep.
“I guess this could work. I’m too tired to argue anymore.”
“Same.”
Paper hugged on tighter. He snuggled into Scissors’ neck, shaggy jet black hair tickling his nose. Scissors radiated heat through his blue Ebenezer Scrooge-esque pajamas, his droopy nightcap lying on the pillow they now shared.
“Hm. You don’t run hot.”
“I. Do.” He snarled, glimpsing behind him to address Paper before whipping his head back forward.
“Not quite. You’re colder than a Yeti cooler.”
“Shut.”
Nestling further into his space, Paper thrusted his arm up to Scissors’ hand and felt his fingertips, analyzing the temperature like it was valuable data of an experiment. Yup, his hypothesis was correct: ice cold. Curiously, Scissors didn’t pull away from his touch, only tensing up.
“Filled to the brim. With ice.”
Scissors elbowed him in the ribs. Paper unhanded him and gently clutched the fabric of his stupidly soft nightgown. His brain was being dumb again, making him add on extra words to sentences that needed none. The exhaustion and stress of the day was getting to him, of course.
“Lucky we bought you that electric blanket—”
Without warning, Scissors slid his body over to face Paper’s, their legs bumping together. He exhaled sharp, a soft wind tempting to blow Paper away.
“Are you done? Your voice is vibrating my spine.”
In the process of turning over, Scissors had swung his arm around him, his hand settled on the back of Paper’s shoulder. Naturally, it would be around him, though; anywhere else would be inconvenient, so Paper wasn’t sure why it was such a noteworthy thing to him.
Another thing he couldn’t quite chase out of his mind: Scissors’ skin, unhelpfully exposed from his sleeve being scrunched up. Paper had recognized them before, but in the moonlight basking on them through the window, his moles had never been harder to ignore—freckles and moles making up little consolations.
“Yeah. I’m—yeah.” He shook out of it, blinking hard.
They stared at each other for a moment, both still as statues, maybe even steel statues that were welded as one.
“Sorry,” Scissors rasped, his voice uncharacteristically faint, “no matter how long it’s been, I’m still thrown off by you without your nerd glasses.”
“I’m still thrown off by the fact you sleep with your pseudo-cool-guy ones on.”
“What, as if I’d take them off? It’s my brand.”
“Pssh, right.” Paper pursed his lips, refusing to let the smile creeping up on him show.
“Well, time for nighty-night.” A yawn escaped his mouth, and Paper imagined brown eyes crinkling underneath the shades. “Okay? You comfy?” Scissors pat his back.
“Are you?”
“I fucking guess.”
“Go to sleep then.” Paper snarked, fully aware of his bitchiness.
His mouth twisting into a subtle frown, Scissors growled. With a quiet exhale, Paper thanked the gods it was back to hostility between them.
“Sweet dreams or something.” Scissors huffed, twisting around and settling back into Paper’s embrace. If they weren’t practically glued to one another, Paper would’ve yanked the blanket to cover himself more. It wouldn’t necessary, though, for Scissors was doing more to warm him up than the sorry little bedsheet could ever do.
“Goodnight.” Paper whispered, resting his eyes and dozing off with Scissors in his arms.
The morning came, light invading their windows with one cruel little sunray at a time. Paper slipped out of bed without a sound, Scissors all but stirring, and made himself a cup of coffee on autopilot. At least the new setup was convenient with the kitchen—at the sound of the coffee machine whirring and spraying steaming liquid, Scissors grumbled and reached for the remote—and the TV.
On his stomach with his head resting on stacked elbows, he begrudgingly watched Parallel Barkers, probably too lazy to change the channel, his bangs somehow both flattened and sticking up. Apparently, his nightcap slid off in the night, crumbled on the floor with his phone and the rest of the knick-knacks Rock and Scissors refused to pick up. He was watching the dogs drive on the screen with half-lidded eyes, his bare feet absentmindedly swaying back and forth in the air.
Paper hadn’t noticed his coffee mug was topped off until Rock came bolting into the kitchen and snatched it from the machine.
“Areyouhavingthis? No?” Albeit he was already a ball of energy, he immediately poured the piping hot caffeine into his mouth, a few drops dribbling onto his black tank top.
“Wait, that’s hot—”
An agonizing hum ripped out of him before he spit it all onto the countertop. Paper eyed the scene with bewilderment, honestly just glad none of it made contact with him.
“It’s good, it’s all good! I’ll clean that!” Articulation awful from his burnt tongue, Rock swiped a paper towel off the roll in a flash and got to soaking up the mess. He was moving with such speed and vigor, Paper blinked and the coffee vanished from the counter—mind you, it was only nine o’clock in the morning.
“What is happening?” Paper blinked, still in the process of waking up.
“I’m expecting an important call from my agent in, like, two minutes! Muy importante, muy muy muy!”
“Rock, you know Paper doesn’t speak Japanese…” He lazily remarked and propped his head up, cheek smushed against his fist.
Then, Rock’s phone went off, playing his happy-go-lucky ringtone at full blast. Checking the caller ID, his expressive eyebrows climbed to the top of his face.
“Shoot, this is it! FYI, when I’m back, I’ll either be the happiest I’ve ever been or down-right ready for death. Please hold.” He stuck out his index finger before rushing into his room and slamming the door. Humming and stroking his chin, Scissors nodded, indicating to Paper he was intrigued. Paper nodded back, raising an eyebrow and making another cup of coffee.
After a brief two minutes later, a bloodcurdling scream rang out, barely muted by the walls of Rock’s room. He came out stone-faced and walking mechanically to the front of the television, seemingly having an announcement to make. Rock, with wide eyes, beckoned them to assemble and listen. Hastily, Paper sat next to Scissors on the mattress-couch—Paper with criss-crossed legs and a straight back and Scissors reclining back on his elbows—and awaited in anticipation.
“So. You may be wondering why I gathered you here today. Well. Let’s just say… I leveled up!” Rock exclaimed, breaking out in a smile. Still clutching his phone, his fists were balled under his chin.
“How so?” Paper asked, his interest piqued.
“Yeah, dude, how?” Scissors sat up, also listening intently.
“I…” Rock’s gaze tilted down, his expression unreadable yet again.
“You?” They leaned in, eager for the answer.
“I…”
“YOU?!”
Their suspense was held for a few excruciating seconds until…
“I GOT THE GIG!” Rock exploded, his hands covering his beaming ear-to-ear grin. Jumping for joy, unabashed childlike wonder started to pour out of him.
“What?!” Scissors got to his feet, his sleepy demeanor doing a 180 as he matched Rock’s hopping and celebrating.
“I’ve moved up the ladder! Starting next week, I’ll be modeling clothes with glorious holes in them!” Paper gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth.
“Shit, Rock, congrats! That’s awesome!” Scissors cheered, clapping his shoulder before going in for a hug. After happily observing the two’s pure delight from the mattress, Paper followed suit, the three simultaneously buzzing with glee.
“I can’t think of a person who deserves it more.” Paper grinned, to which Rock blissfully wrapped his biceps around his and Scissors’ neck. He pecked each to the tops of their hands and thanked them again.
“Oh, I love you two. Life is good.”
“That, it is.” Paper made eye contact with Scissors on his left, sharing an expression in between pride for Rock and surprise that the both of them hadn’t already been accidentally choked out by their roommate’s muscles. Finally, after a quiet moment apparently drinking it all in, he jumped with a little oh! and released them from the chokehold.
“I forgot I have to call back to get the deets and everything, so…” Rock stuck his thumb out, pointing to his room.
“Go, then!”
“Yeah, go, go, go!” The two shooed him away, encouragement written on their faces. Scissors gave him two thumbs-up until his door sealed. Upon the audible click of his door, Paper didn’t waste any time to get scheming, his voice hushed and mischievous as he spoke to Scissors
“We might need to get some groceries later, if you know what I mean.” He smirked, wiggling the pads of his fingers like a mad scientist. Groceries had sort of been their code word for gifts or party decorations—Scissors was sure to know what it meant by then.
“Oh, are we already out of milk?” Scissors genuinely wondered.
“Uh, yes.” He tried again, winking.
Scissors winked back, snapping and shooting a fingergun at him. To top it off, he smoothly clicked his tongue twice. Paper’s eyebrows knitted with disbelief.
“I don’t even know why I try. Just get dressed, I’ll explain on the way.”