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The single bed dominated the tiny room. For all intents and purposes the bed was a your bog-standard bed. Wooden frame, slightly more firm than usual mattress and a pillow so thin it might’ve well not been there at all. It was slightly bigger than a single bed.
The most important fact about the bed – and more specifically the room it was in – was that it was the only thing Graves and Twisted Fate could afford at the moment.
They both stood in the door opening of the room, staring at the bed. They shared a slow look with each other and looked back. The bed didn’t change size at all, mocking them.
Twisted Fate sucked his teeth. Graves scratched his beard.
There was a beat of silence.
And then they moved as one man.
Graves’ elbow flew towards Twisted Fate’s head, who ducked and shoved his own hand in Graves’ face, propelling himself forwards. Cursing and half-blind Graves flung his arm out, catching Fate’s belt by pure chance and dragged him back and then out of the room.
He sprinted towards the bed, only to be disoriented by a sudden flash of blue and Fate falling on the bed. “Dibs!” he yelled.
“Oh no you don’t!” roared Graves in return and snatched Fate by the ankle, dragging him off the bed. A move slightly hindered by Fate’s free foot shooting out and kicking him straight in the gut.
Graves did manage to drag Fate off the bed, solely because he fell backwards and his hand remained clamped around the ankle.
There was an ‘oof’ when they fell both on the floor, Fate’s weight landing full-force on Graves’ torso. Fate’s head meanwhile bounced of the floor. For a moment they both wheezed after air and blinked dazedly.
And then everything devolved again.
Fate quickly turned on his axis, wrenching his ankle free. He scrabbled up. Graves lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Fate’s torso, dragging him back down.
For a moment they tussled, fists flying and feet kicking. If any of the neighbors complained, they didn’t hear it. They had snarled in unison at one brave soul who’d tried to complain at the noise, but he’d been easily forgotten when he’d beaten a sensible retreat. Their attention had been back on each other, grappling and fighting.
At a certain point Graves got his hand in Fate’s hair. The always present hat had been knocked off a long time ago. With hand fisted firmly in his partner’s hair, Graves pulled.
Fate let out a heartfelt moan and promptly slapped his hands over his mouth, his face burning red.
Graves stared wide-eyed, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Carefully he released Fate’s hair.
“Truce?” muttered Graves.
“Truce,” Fate agreed heavily embarrassed.
There was a beat of silence where they both silently agreed to never mention this again and then, in unison, “I ain’t sleepin’ on the floor.”
“Think if I go beat the shit out of the innkeeper we gonna get a bigger bed?” asked Graves. His fingers twitched towards his gun.
Fate genuinely considered this for a moment, but shook his head. “I think the only thing we’re gonna get is tossed out and having to scrap another safe place from the list,” he deadpanned.
They considered the bed again.
“We could just share,” said Fate, hesitantly.
“How? Because I ain’t certain if you noticed T.F., but I’m a big guy and you’re a tall guy and that is a ridiculously small bed.”
“On our sides, back to back? Might save us some space.”
“No offense, but I ain’t laying ass to ass with you in a small bed.”
“First time I hear you complain about that,” Fate grumbled. “You got any better ideas?”
“You always steal the blankets when we sleep like that!” defended Graves himself. “And why don’t we just… I lay with my head this way and you lay the other way?”
“I am NOT laying with my head against your feet! Last time we did that I had a headache for a week.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was. We had spend an entire day in a swamp beforehand and parts of it had migrated between your toes.”
“Now you’re just bein’ over-dramatic.”
“Your toes were green!”
Graves shrugged this off. “Not that important. ‘cause that still doesn’t tell me how we’re gonna do this.”
Fate sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. “Probably the same way we always do this. I dunno why we even keep fightin’ about it.”
“I assumed for fun,” grinned Graves like a shark.
The room was quiet. At least relatively speaking in comparison to the beginning of the evening.
Graves was sprawled out on the bed, spread-eagle. Loud, rumbling snores and the occasional grunt escaped him.
Twisted Fate laid on his chest acting like a blanket. He was muttering something in his sleep. His head was tucked away in Graves’ neck and he was actively drooling on the other man’s shoulder.
Their legs were entwined and if you asked a neutral observer they’d say they were actively cuddling.
Not that they’d ever admit it out loud.
In the morning Graves would complain about the drool wet spots. Fate would shoot back that he thought Graves was used to laying in those. There would be another slap fight as result and an agreement that this was the last time they were going to share a bed.
At least until the next time they only had access to one bed.