There had been many times, when they worked for the Empire, when Eli would try to keep pace with him and would end up asleep for an entire sleep cycle. It appears that some things never change. Like how Eli sleeps on his stomach with his head turned towards Thrawn. That is another constant.
They’ve only shared a bed once before—somewhere between their early days when the Empire was still actively trying to oust both of them and when Thrawn had become someone of note.
Then, he had woken up to find Eli on his stomach, reaching for him with the arm that hadn’t been pillowed under his head. Or how when Eli is in deep sleep, the crinkle between his eyebrows softens.
In his youth, his forehead had been completely smooth, peaceful and far off in the land of dreams. Now, it remains, but as a wrinkle—a soft reminder of the stress he carries and the years that have passed. Thrawn reaches up with a gentle finger and traces down the line.
He has always known, of course, that as a Human, Eli runs warm, but his smooth skin feels like a day felt in the sun.
Eli hums and curls closer to him, pressing his hot feet to Thrawn’s chilly shins. “C’mere,” he mumbles in Basic. “I’m burning up.” Thrawn can’t help his smile.
There had also been many times, years ago, when he would find Eli entangled in his sheets, his own warmth too unbearable under a sea of blankets. He moves closer, wrapping his cooler fingers around the back of Eli’s neck. Eli moans in response and peers at Thrawn through hooded lids. “You can just do that forever."
"It would be my pleasure," Thrawn says.
A sleepy smile spreads across Eli's lips. "You're still here."
"I have no intention of leaving."
"It's my cooking ain't it?"
Thrawn huffs a laugh. "Perhaps."
[This is "Misty" by amukmuk]
~
[Photo: the mug is a wonderful gift from @kotoroa, and the art is by @blackmonitor_official ]
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