Work Text:
It'd be a perfectly quiet night if anything was perfect or quiet about it. The pines Ashlyn had been staring at certainly weren’t quiet, and she was fairly sure no one present would describe their situation as perfect. Yet this was the kind of night she should expect to feel perfectly quiet: the leaves rustling in the cold, the harsh winds signaling a rainfall soon, and the small chit chat of someone else's conversation a few rows over.
So why did this feel like the quiet before a gunfight?
If Ashlyn had to guess, she’d say it’s probably because it is. It’s probably because every night that they sit here and laugh and eat popcorn together, they are actively risking their lives. It’s probably because none of them can sleep soundly - she should know, she’s been here every night after all.
But it’s okay. They have each other; that’s enough. That has to be enough.
Aiden swiftly comes back, a half empty bag of chips and a tall glass of water in tow; likely because he sees right through her. He sees straight to the fact that something is bothering her, and that something would be better handled with some water at hand.
So, as per usual. “You didn’t say if this is a ‘Salt & Vinegar’ kind of night, or a ‘Dill Pickle’ kind of night.”
She sits up from her slouched position against the window - probably the main culprit for her cracking joints - and moves her legs up to make room. “So what did you do?”
He beams, a toothy grin. “Absolutely nothing! I got plain,” he says as he leans down and places the water in her hand, along with a kiss on her forehead. “So.”
“So?”
“You're up.”
“As are you,” She leans in and takes a chip, “As are most of us most nights.” Which is a perfectly okay thing. At least, for them it was. She’d been staring out the window at those damn pines while Aiden fidgeted, idly talking to himself, until he’d finally noticed she was awake too.
Aiden crosses his legs, and Ashelyn takes another chip as he speaks up, “...Think a storms gonna set in?”
“Mm, maybe.” Another one.
“Kind of cold.” Another one.
“Not really,” Another one. “More of like a light frost. See, it’s not even raining.” There are light flecks of water beginning to gather on the window, and the bus seems to creak and groan under the wind’s weight. Despite there being nothing particular about the sound, Ashlyn felt particularly scared of the bus toppling over and getting swept up in the brambles and ending up with a tree sticking through her like a pyre.
A sip of her water at Aiden’s comment, “It’s kind of raining; sort of. Like a half-hearted attempt at rain.”
Another chip, “Okay, point-five rain then.” Another sip of her water; they mellowed into silence.
“Ashlyn.” Another chip.
“Ashlyn,” Both the chip bag and glass of water were becoming quite empty.
Aiden lays a hand on her knee, and she looks at him. His hair is especially tangled, eyes wide, brows knit together with a particularly worrying frown line - and of course, deep eye bags to match her own. It was fine. He was fine, and she was too.
They sit, in perfect quiet, until her own frown lines begin to ebb away; until her own tangled thoughts and wide eyes morph into something else entirely: weariness. Ashlyn was weary. Weary of their travels or exploits or adventures or whatever their odd situation is called. She was tired, because everything they did was tiring. So she did the only thing she could do, not to solve any of their problems or make her worries go away, or even to make it feel fine or okay in any capacity.
She curled into herself, let Aiden wrap his arms around her back and knees, and sat. Ashlyn leaned on him now, head against his shoulder and legs maneuvered across his. Her hands were no longer occupied with clinging to her knees, so she clung to Aiden instead, around his chest. Like a lifeboat, like an anchor, like a lighthouse - and she was the sea, desperately trying to hold on while the storm closed in.
But it was fine. Everything was okay.
“Are you okay?” Aiden asked directly in her ear.
“...Are you?”
He snorted, “Absolutely not. Chip?” They broke slightly apart, and Ashlyn shifted her weight towards the window instead to accompany the chips dropped on her lap.
She smiled, and held his gaze. Aiden leaned in and kissed her, taking a handful of chips with him “You’re aware these are communal chips, yeah?”
“You’re aware you haven’t answered my question, yeah?”
She looked down, “I’m sure you can deduce the answer, detective.”
“Detective?” He retorted, “If I was an investigator I’d be doing national crime cases, not individual work. And I’d have a yacht.”
“You're so sure they’d hire you?”
“You’d be my reference. Doubting your own skills, Ash?” They giggled and tried to shush one another so as to not wake the others, only managing to become louder.
“No, but seriously-” Aiden circled his arms around Ashelyn again, “What’s up?
“I’m…just worried about tomorrow.” She started chipping off some of her nail polish, hands in her lap.
“And?”
“And tomorrow’s tomorrow. And every ‘tomorrow’ afterwards that we have to put up with and wake up to and sit through, late at night while it’s fucking raining.” She continued, looking up at him “I’m worried about every night we have to go back to that…place. About every time we wake up when it’s finally over. Im worried about what we’re facing, about whatever the fuck we find out there. How can I not, Aiden? Everyone’s gotta be worried.” They sat there, looking at each other as the rain started to qualify as rain, as the bus creaked, as the night was no longer quiet.
“It’s okay-”
“It’s not.”
“Then it’s not. It’s not okay, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” Aiden brushed a hand through her hair, “What we can do is be here. We can go back every night, to that place, together. We can wake up when it’s all over, together. We can wake up and face whatever the fuck we find, together.” He took Ashlyn’s face in his hand, with a small grin. “All of it sucks. Like, all of it. We all know it, we’re all living it. But we’re doing it together. We’re worrying together, and going through ‘tomorrow’ together. Wouldn’t it be that much worse alone? If there was no ‘us’?”
Ashlyn’s quietest worries creep to the forefront of her mind, and her mouth tastes like ash, voice small “What if there won’t be an ‘us’ anymore?”
Aiden’s face shrinks in fear; not surprise. It’s a thought we’ve all had at least once during our time together, a shared idea. “That’s not-” he starts, but he’s too quick with his words. They don’t come out right, and he slurs and trips over them like a drunk man. He quiets.
“We won’t let that happen,” Aiden brushes a hand through her hair again. “Do you hear me? It won't, it's the last thing that’ll happen because it’s the last thing we’ll let happen, any of us. All of us.”
“Aiden, I’m just tired. I’m…I am so tired,” She takes one of his hands in her lap, intertwining them. “Of all of it.”
“Then sleep. Everything will be fine.” Ashlyn turns away from him then, noticing that raindrops have started to dance down the window, to the ledge. “I’m serious, Ash. We’ll make sure of it. Everything can go to hell but we’ll make sure it’s okay.”
“And if it’s not?”
He runs another hand through her hair, and she turns back to him. He holds up their still-intertwined fingers, flashing that small smile, and says, “Then we’ll be there to wake up and face it.” He lets go of Ashlyn’s hand and brings both hands instead to circle her, again, shifting his weight towards the window as well. Aiden rests his head on her shoulder, and she squeezes her arms out to keep one around his waist and one in his hair. He’d been going through it too. They all could use a quiet night like this, to admit nothing is fine with a tall glass of water in hand.
Someone hit the back of their seat, hard. “You guys done with the chips? Ashlyn’s got a point; they’re communal.” Taylor whispered.
Aiden lifted his head and turned, a toothy grin in tow. “Couldn’t wait until we’d actually been sleeping to nab them?”
“That’d take hours. And stealing without permission isn’t nice.”
“You can’t steal with permission.”
“Watch me,” She made a grab for the chips beside Aiden, but he snatched them before she could reach. He nearly smacked Ashlyn in the process, who was only mildly annoyed and fairly amused.
“How do you even steal with permission? Like you can’t-"
“Aiden, give me the damn chips. It’s not that serious.”
He smiled brightly at that, handing the chips to Taylor. “I think that’s the first time you’ve considered me ‘serious’” He touched a hand to his heart, “I’m honored.” Taylor said nothing as she finished off the last of the plain chips in stock and went back to her respective seat, doing whatever she was respectively doing.
He turned back to her, and gave him another lightly salted kiss. Aiden nuzzled back into her shoulder, with a bemused smile on his face. Ashlyn continued brushing out his hair with her fingers to smooth over the remainder of his previously ‘especially tangled hair’. It was the picture of a perfectly quiet night with those she cares for.
Nothing is fine; everything’s not okay. But we’ll be alright.