Chapter Text
“My…face…”
“Where…is…my…face…”
“Can’t…find…my face…”
“Maybe…I should just take…YOURS.”
“NO—!” Willow shouts into the night, jolting out of a deep slumber. He clutches at the bedsheets with sweaty hands, heart hammering in his chest as his world tries to right itself.
Before it can… “...m…m-my fa…!” In retrospect, he should’ve known it was still there. How else could his eyes scan the dark inn room frantically? How else could his gasps of air break the late-night silence?
But he has to make sure. He has to make sure.
A glint nearby finally catches his eye, bringing his attention to the nearby nightstand, where his savior lies; a hand mirror, simply carved, yet chock full of complicated feelings, given the person who’d gifted it to him in the first place.
Willow will unpack that later. For now, he desperately snatches it up, peering into the reflective surface with nothing but the moon outside providing any light.
It’s enough, at least. Enough to behold his own fresh-green eyes, half-lidded as they usually rested and full of stars, his rounded triangular nose, his curly mouth, his cheeks dusted with golden freckles…all noted and accounted for. As his nerves begin to calm down, he brings up a shaky hand to trace the lines of facepaint, their significance for him and him alone.
A “unique” face, as one of his new friends called it, which he took energetically as a compliment. It’s his face, and it’s still here, right where it should be, and that’s all that matters. With a deep sigh, the normally-strong-hearted warrior holds the mirror to his chest, and quietly thanks the stars.
“Mmmmrrnghplffgh…hmmmm…”
Said new friend finally breaks the silence himself, it seems. Once Willow manages to uncurl himself, he glances to the other side of the rented room to the large bed that holds his slumbering buddy, bright red locks messily peeking out under pink blankets.
After traveling together for so long, and as frequently as they roomed together, Willow had gotten used to Swee T. talking in his sleep. Once an annoyance that had kept him awake at night, now a minor amusement when he woke up in the morning instead.
And right this moment? A huge relief. Because that means Swee still has a mouth to mumble nonsense with.
“Mmmmm—cot’mm candim… gobbin ‘am… dun min’ iffin I do… zzzzzz…”
Relief and amusement, that’s a nice combo. Willow snickers and watches him wiggle deeper under the sheets with lip-smacking noises. It doesn’t even strike him as weird, anymore.
He’d been getting used to a lot of the chef’s odd antics and mannerisms. Swee’s a real laid-back guy, for better or worse; not a whole lot ruffles his feathers, he’s a hoot and a half to join on outings, and on occasion he’ll even drop a remarkably meaningful comment or gesture, intentionally or not. Case in point, Willow looks back at the mirror, smiles as he fondly remembers removing the pink ribbon wrapped around it, and gently sets it back down on the nightstand.
Moments like that make it much more bearable to endure his shortcomings. It drives Willow bananas whenever Swee slacks off in battle, or blurts out something clueless at best and callous at worst, or when he hides behind the warrior to avoid taking hits. That especially stings, considering he’s been reminded before that Willow is absolutely willing to protect him if he just asked. Then again, he’ll also have his moments of intense focus, and usually stays on top of healing others with his cooking, and is almost always willing to lend a hand and attack their foes right beside him…
Willow lets out a puff of air, bemused. Man. He just cannot get a good read on the guy. Definitely the “wild card” of the team.
And he has no idea what kind of reaction he’ll get if he does what he really wants to do, and disturb him from his blissful dreams.
“...nnnnnope-puh, no b’nshee tears fer me, plz…(snort)...”
But…they’re friends, right? Willow could really use a friend right now.
Also, he just… had to make sure. Just in case.
His mind made up, Willow throws himself out of bed and approaches, beginning with a loud whisper, “Psst. Swee. Hey, Swee.”
“Mmn,” he sighs. An acknowledgement? Probably not.
Willow reaches over to shake the lump under the covers awake. “C’mon, Swee, wake up.”
“Mrrghhgblh.” A groggy groan of protest, with the blankets tightening around him.
Okay, fair, Willow can’t blame him, but still, this is important. “Please, Swee? Pretty please?”
There’s a grumpy little pause, before, finally, a tall, thin head donning the messiest ponytail imaginable emerges. His eyes squint to the point of barely being open, brows and wrinkles all meeting at a point for maximum drowsiness. His thin mouth is curled up in a petulant pout, and his stubble gives some extra shadow to his dreary face.
And all Willow can be is glad to see his face at all.
“Buh?” he greets eloquently.
“Hey, Swee. Sorry. I know it’s super late.” Shoot. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. How does he even begin to explain waking up the chef at this obscene hour?
Willow stews a bit, then goes with his gut, and stammers out, “I-I just. Wanted to make sure you still had your face. That’s all.”
Beady eyes open more fully at this. Agonizingly, Swee takes his time to fully wake up, easing himself to sit up against the headboard, stretching his arms widely, and yawning even wider. And then, when he’s just alert enough, his weary eyes scan Willow, up, down, up, and down. The warrior boils in place, and is almost tempted to “Snap him Out of It.”
Then, his face lands on a small, sad smile. “Lemme guess. Bad dream?”
Willow fights the urge to deny it, and tightly nods. Swee considers this for an uncomfortably long while, before he nods himself, almost sagely.
Then, he shifts, and scoots over to the far side of his ridiculously huge bed, and pats the now vacant side invitingly.
Briefly, this short-circuits Willow’s brain. Out of all possible responses, this was so far off his radar it may as well have been in the Otherworld.
“Uhhh. Huh,” he asks eloquently.
Swee shrugs, as casually as he can while half-conscious. “Only if you wanna, no pressure. Might help, might not. Up to you.”
Willow feels like a leaf bobbing on the ocean surface. He can’t for the life of him grasp at any reasons for him not to, so, once more, he goes with his gut, and climbs up into the huge bed. It’s more of a physical hassle than he expected it to be.
Once Willow’s under the covers, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, and replaying the events that got him here in his head, Swee nods once more in satisfaction before laying back down himself. He doesn’t burrow, though, and instead mimics his friend’s position, as if trying to discover whatever mysteries are locked in the wood grain above them.
The following silence is long, and gives Willow time to process…all this. He realizes that, even in this sea of confusion swirling in his noodle, there’s no room for any shame, because Swee hadn’t allowed it. He only offers honesty, understanding, and weirdness in spades, and it’s weirdly… comforting. It’s a different kind of Safe Spot, a different kind of healing.
Willow’s not sure he’ll ever fully understand this feeling, or Swee in general, and he decides that that’s okay. It makes it easier than it’s ever been to look over at him, and meet his eyes, and offer a sleepy grin, which is gladly returned. A rare, peaceful moment.
As if sensing this, Swee then turns on his side and throws out a, “Wanna try cuddling?”
Yup. Wild card. Willow should’ve expected this, but that doesn’t make his cheeks feel any less hotter. “Uhhhhh—”
“Again, up to you. But the warmth will getcha back to sleep sooner.” He folds his arms and digs his face into them, but their eyes are still locked, and his smirk is poorly hidden. “An’ if the Dark Lord tries to snatch up my face, you’ll be right there to protect me.”
Cheeky. Shameless. Utterly adorable.
There are many responses to that, and Willow shocks himself by smirking right back. “Yeah? I get to protect you this time, huh?”
“Yeah.” Sheepishly, Swee adds, “I’ll uh. Try and ask more in battle, too. My bad.”
That cinches it. All is forgiven as the warrior turns over himself and snuggles up against the chef. As strange and unpredictable as he is, he is also warm, and soft, and smells faintly of cooked meat and banana fritters. Sleep comes almost instantly.
He’ll protect Swee to the ends of the earth and back.