krempuff | Seeking some thrills, I been wanting one more

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Seeking some thrills, I been wanting one more

It was late when the Fight Club broke, or early, depending on how you looked at it. Krem was sore, aching, starting to get that shake in his limbs that spoke of the adrenaline finally leaking out of his systems. He took the collection of weaponry he'd taken out to the grounds back to his apartment, just so they were collected and safely stored. And then, too agitated to be alone, he walked.

His legs and lungs were aching. When he stopped, he was standing in front of the Bramford. He slid his hands over his gym slacks, realized he was wearing a pair that didn't have pockets and that he hadn't brought his phone anywhere with him. That was stupid of him.

It was late. He should, he knew, just go back home.

But then, aching, he was standing in front of Thomas's door. He knocked, hard enough that it would be able to be heard all the way back to the bedroom--he knew the acoustics of the inside of Thomas's apartment well by now--but almost hoping that Thomas would be asleep, and able to sleep through the noise of him coming by. If he didn't answer within a couple moments, Krem would go.

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Thomas's breathing changed first, before he stirred or started to rub at his eyes. Krem considered stopping his gentle rearrangement of Thomas's unruly, sleep tousled hair. By then, Thomas was already rubbing at his eyes, making protesting sleepy noises that dragged a breathy chuckle out of Krem.

He burrowed into the blankets, into Thomas's warmth, despite the ache in his body. He snuck an arm under Thomas's chest and cast the other one over his back, holding him close. Even though he'd stayed over before, they had always been planned occasions, and there was something so tender, so wholesome about the spontaneity of this. Something honest about it.

"Sorry," he whispered, like he could lull Thomas back to sleep rather than rouse him further with his voice. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Why are you awake already?" Thomas mumbled, finding himself swimming up to the surface and shucking hating it. There weren't many times that he went through nights without having a terrible dream so when he did, he tried stubbornly to preserve them.

"Shouldn't you be like, I don't know, half dead because of what you did to yourself yesterday?" he asked, sighing and tucking himself up against Krem. "Go back to sleep, you shank."

"I can let you go back to sleep," Krem murmured, even as Thomas was tucking and pressing in close. It was hard to imagine sleeping, now that he was awake, but he was always like that when he was awake. He'd been like that for years.

"You can even kick me out of bed if you want."

But he didn't think Thomas would, not really. If--or when, more likely--he got out of this bed, it wouldn't be because Thomas forced him out.

"I'm not going to kick you out," Thomas told him, shaking his head. He was undecided on the whole going back to sleep thing. If he waited too long, he'd be awake and he wasn't sure if he wanted that or if he wanted to get a few more hours.

"Why'd you fight so many people last night?" Thomas asked, not sure if he'd asked that last night or not. "Were there not enough people to go around? You probably would have saved yourself some pain."

Krem hummed a little, contemplative, but also uncertain if he should answer that or go quiet and let Thomas lull back into sleep in the interim silence. Instead, after a breath or two, he quietly said, "There were plenty of people, and I didn't fight too many. Not a lot more than normal, even. Just went harder on it than I had the last two times."

Each one had fallen so conveniently around times when his stress and anxiety and pining for home were the highest--when he'd first arrived, shortly after the other city, and now with everything after KIRIN.

"It was like being home," he said softly. "Training hard, pushing past limits. Fighting the fears out. I'll be bruised for days, but I'm alive."

Thomas didn't say anything for awhile. For a second, he almost felt himself falling back to sleep but he fought against that, not wanting to abandon the thread of conversation right now. He wanted to say something eloquent or comforting or something that might make Krem reconsider always going so hard but his mind was still fuzzy with sleep.

"You are alive," Thomas agreed quietly. "I thought about coming out there but ended up having to work a bit. Was there a good turn out?"

"There was," Krem said with a nod. He turned onto his back fully, his one arm still stuck under Thomas's chest, and he smiled a little. It had been a hard night of it, but worth it. If he pulled one together again, he didn't think he'd do it quite like he had this time, though people had needed it to be like this.

"Enough familiar faces to mostly keep people in line. Some new ones. A lot of people affected by KIRIN--the kidnappings, the raid." He leaned over and nuzzled at Thomas's shoulder a little. "Hopefully, there won't be another one for a couple months."

"Maybe next time I'll have a night off so I can at least come and watch," Thomas said, yawning hugely again before blinking the last of sleep from his eyes.

He still felt lazy, still didn't want to get up but there was probably no danger of him falling back to sleep.

"It is okay to just come and watch, right? I wouldn't have to fight?"

"It's encouraged to at least have one fight," Krem said, carding his untrapped hand through Thomas's hair. "But there's a lot of other people there that are still fairly new to fighting. And you've been picking up the things I've been teaching you well. You could hold your own against...some people."

Blue. Thomas could fight Blue. And she would still probably win. But Krem wouldn't say that, not aloud and not to either of their faces.

He shifted his hand from Thomas's hair to his cheek and sighed contentedly, nuzzling in carefully, giving him a brief kiss. It hurt a little more than it had the night before, when he'd arrived, but that was alright. "Good morning."

"Some people?" Thomas mumbled against Krem's lips, laughing into Krem's mouth. He tried to think of some people that he knew who could fight that he could manage to stand against and not get his face beaten in and could think of no one.

"I think you're being too nice," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know if there's anyone who knows how to fight that I could manage to do okay against, not without some kind of weapon involved. Like if I had a stick, I might be okay. You're too nice."

He sighed quietly. "Good morning."

"When have I lied to you?" Still, Thomas was right that he'd probably stand a better chance with a cane or something, the way that Kaz or Grantaire fought, instead of just hand to hand. But that would be a whole different group of fighters.

"Maybe you'll just watch, if you decide to come," Krem murmured, not really pulling away from their lips brushing. He gently pulled Thomas over top of him, fitting himself underneath his warm chest. His ribs twinged uncomfortably, bruises and something more than that. "You can give me disapproving looks after all my fights."

"You haven't lied to me but that doesn't mean you're not telling the whole truth," Thomas pointed out, bracing a hand down against his bed to keep some of his weight off Krem.

"This has to be hurting you," he murmured, pressing a light kiss to Krem's nose and shaking his head. "I can give you disapproving looks right now if you're doing this and you're in pain and I'm causing more of it. I've been told I make great faces."

Krem laughed airily. He'd been caught out, though not entirely. It didn't mean he was going to say anything, to the contrary about Thomas's ability to hold his own despite his doubts, or about the fighting last night, or anything else.

"I'm fine," Krem assured to Thomas's concern. He was sore, aching, but it wasn't the worst he'd ever felt. At some point, he might need to see if Dorian could make him a potion. Now, he didn't want to get out of his bed.

"If you're so worried about laying on top of me, I could lay on top of you instead." Even with all the bruises and aches and pains, it wasn't particularly hard to reverse their positions. Now that Thomas was awake, Krem felt gently playful about being safely ensconced in the bed with him, being close and warm and swathed in the borrowed shirt from last night.

He rolled them so Thomas was under him and then settled himself promptly on top. "There. Now you don't have to worry about me."

"This wasn't exactly what I meant," Thomas said but he was laughing, rubbing a hand over his eyes and through his hair. It was his own fault, really, for not being more specific.

"What's gotten into you this morning?" Thomas wondered, curling his fingers into the fabric of the borrowed shirt. "I would have thought you'd just want to lay here, still and quiet, so you wouldn't get a headache or a backache or any other ache that someone who's old like you gets."

"Not like I'm saying we should go on a ten mile hike or something. I'm perfectly content to stay right here," Krem said, settling down contentedly against Thomas. Most, if not all of his current aches and pains were familiar ones. He'd known them for years, nearly half his life or more in one way or another, and Darrow had been a strange vacancy of them.

"I just...wanted to be here with you." He hummed a little. "I like being with you, Thomas."

"But I like ten mile hikes in the morning," Thomas said, only half joking. Maybe not ten miles but he'd taken some early morning hikes since arriving to Darrow. They got him outside, let him run and allowed him to explore.

"I like being with you too," he murmured after a quiet moment. "And I wasn't trying to sound otherwise. You're just surprisingly cuddly a day after you got the shuck beat out of you."

"I know you do," Krem said, and smiled despite the ache in his jaw. He nuzzled at Thomas's throat gently, humming. "And I wouldn't even stop you if you abandoned me to go on one. Would just lie here and enjoy your bed until you came back."

He turned his head a little, pillowed against Thomas's shoulder and sought out his hand to hold gently. Maybe Thomas was right. Maybe he'd been knocked a little too hard in the head a couple too many times last night. But that seemed alright right now.

"Better than the alternative, I suppose. I could be picking more fights."

"Would you?" Thomas asked, pushing himself up slightly to peer down at Krem. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. For a second, Thomas thought of Gally. Gally who always wanted to fight, who always was spoiling to be aggressive and angry and mean. Newt had said he wasn't always like that but that's the only side of Gally he knew.

"Who would you go picking fights with?" he wondered. "You have a list of people? Something titled 'Krem's List of Potential Fight Targets' or something like that?"

"Oh, not at the moment." He might have, last night. And there were people who he enjoyed a good scrape with, people who he had had a good scrape with last night. Gannicus had been good, Isabelle, Dorian; Athos and Eowyn were both good for it.

But his mind flooded him with having to have Tris pry him and Ronan away from each other before they did something stupid, and then--then, later, seeing Ronan stalk off entirely, Blue close behind, looking honestly injured. Nothing could make that fight any more pleasant, nor watching Ronan's retreat less worrisome.

"I'm just saying. I could be picking fights. I'd much rather be in your bed."

"That's the first time anyone's ever said that," Thomas said, sighing and closing his eyes. He wasn't in danger of falling asleep but he still felt lazy and boneless, like he could stay in his bed all day.

"Probably the last too," he joked, shaking his head. "My bed's typically an empty place."

"It doesn't seem empty when I'm around," Krem said, ducking his chin a little and glad to have his head tucked against Thomas's shoulder to hide his smitten, suggestive smile. He turned his face down, briefly, to laugh at his own words. What a line. But it was nice, if not always true. They weren't always here--sometimes out running, sometimes making time for each other, sometimes curled up on a couch together. But every space was full.

"Well obviously I didn't mean it was empty right now," Thomas said, rolling his eyes gently. He'd meant generally. It wasn't like Newt or Minho or Alby had crawled into bed with him back in the Glade.

Teresa hadn't. He probably would have had a panic attack if that had happened.

"Darrow's a strange place," he mumbled, sighing. "Things like this happening to people like me. Strange, strange place."

"People like you," Krem said, contemplatively, and then dug a knuckle gently into Thomas's ribs for the self-deprecation. He wasn't going to deal with it right now. He could agree with all the rest of that--Darrow was strange, and things like this were new and strange--but he wouldn't listen to Thomas act like he didn't deserve as much kindness and gentleness as anyone else here, if not more of it.

He leaned up again and bumped a soft kiss against Thomas's neck, his chin, each cheek. It was easy to fall into showering him in affection, even if Thomas didn't think he was worth it.

"Yes, people like me," he said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. Between the knuckle in his ribs and the kissing, his body was slowly getting overloaded on light, gentle sensations.

It wasn't a bad thing. Just a still unfamiliar experience. He'd come from a place where everything was hard, difficult, sharp, and bloody. This wasn't.

"You're strange too," Thomas said fondly. "Don't ask me why. You just are."

"I'm definitely strange," Krem agreed, giving a bit of a nod, not giving up on his little shower of kisses. He liked that warm, fond note in Thomas's voice, liked being the cause of it, liked his strangeness being a part of that in some way--not because he was strange, and not in spite of his strangeness, but simply because he was him and he happened to be strange.

Krem hummed a little and lifted his hands to Thomas's cheeks, smudging his thumbs against the arch of his cheekbones, then kissing him more decisively. Contentedly, he murmured through the kiss a meek, "I love you, Thomas."

It seemed important, to say it then and not just when they were in the midst of something overt and sexual. When things were tender and private, but not laden.

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