Comfort

R.J. opened the door to his apartment, head hung, shoulders slumped, movement uncharacteristically sluggish. His entire body ached with physical and emotional strain. His eyes lay half-open, gaze unfocused and weary, feet dragging against the carpet as he made his way to the living room. Raina had beaten him home and was already lounging on the couch watching TV. He wasn't surprised. He'd taken the long way home that afternoon; more time to think.

"Welcome home, R.J." Raina greeted him, glad to have something to distract her from the insanely boring show unfolding across the large screen. She examined the expression on his face more closely and tilted her head, eyebrows creasing slightly with concern. "Is something wrong, brother?"

He stopped his trek momentarily, wondering if he could talk to her about it; if he actually wanted to.

No.

Not because he didn't think she'd be a help or listen. He might've actually appreciated her sarcastic comments about it right then. He just...

I don't...want to talk about it...

"I'll be fine, Raina," he replied, shifting his posture in a feeble attempt to hide his fatigue. The weak tone of his voice though, hid nothing. "I'm just tired."

Without another word he resumed his tedious journey to his room, the promise of a soft bed and solidarity his only motivation. His sister continued to watch him as he left, still worried, but lacking the right words to speak. She frowned in slight frustration at herself for not having a better response. Something else was nagging her in the back of her mind, too; like she was forgetting something important that had to do with him. As soon as he placed his hand on the door and began to head inside it finally came to her.

"Oh! R.J.-"

It was too late. He'd already disappeared inside, the door shutting behind him with a light creak.

"Oh well..." She shrugged and went back to her channel surfing.

Wesley's here.

--

R.J. heard the crunch of eaten chips and the crinkle of the bag being balled up and tossed (missing, by the way), before he even saw him lying on his bed. He looked up, eyes widening slightly with surprise at the sight of his red-headed boyfriend sitting there with his goofy lop-sided grin, smiling jade eyes, and care-free demeanor. He was wearing the same burgundy hoodie as always.  Seeing the speedster made him realize he didn't really want isolation after all; he wanted to be safe and secure in the other's arms.

"Hey R.J.!" Wesley said, his grin growing wider. "What's up?"

"Wesley..." The smaller teen's shoulders sagged again, a sigh slipping through his lips. Wesley's smile shrunk into a frown, eyes now filled to the brim with worry.

"R.J...? What's wrong?"

He said nothing.

"Come on, speak to me..." The frown deepened further. "Or at least come over here so I don't feel all weird being the only one on your bed."

The red-head opened his arms widely and separated his knees to invite him, making him look somewhat like a human chair. R.J. hesitated for a moment though he had no idea why. After a moment he crossed the distance between them quickly and calmly, crawling onto the soft mattress, turning and laying his back against the other's warm torso. Wesley wrapped and arm around him comfortingly, resting his other palm on top of the covers to keep them both a little upright while the smaller teen rested one of his arms across his waist, using the other to hold the other hero's comforting limb gently but securely. He let out a weighted sigh and closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort he was finally receiving.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wesley asked, rubbing his thumb softly across the skin of R.J.'s arm.

"Not....really. I had a hard day at school..." he replied quietly. "Teachers, classmates, idiots, humiliating...insensitive." His hold tightened slightly. There was something else he wanted, something else that could make his mood better. But he only ever asked as a last resort. Considering how he was feeling...

"Could you...could you do that one thing for me, please? It always makes me feel better..."

Wesley's eyebrows came down and he groaned before he could catch himself.

"...You know I hate doing that," he replied, being careful not to completely turn down the idea. There was just enough dread for what he knew was coming in his voice to let R.J. know how much he didn't like doing it.

"Please?"

That word. That one word wiped away any speck of defiance Wesley had lying inside his body. Every letter pleaded to him for his help. It flowed into his ears and infiltrated his mind without abandon and pierced his heart without mercy. He felt his pain. And it wasn't just the way he said it. Every inch of R.J.'s face held flecks of anguish and desperation. Like he was just trying to just hold on and make it through the day, make it through his life. It hurt him to see him like that; the feeling never changed no matter how many times it happened and it was never going to change because Wesley loved him and that's what came along with caring for someone.

"...Fine," he sighed.

R.J. turned in his arms, embracing him thankfully, inhaling his familiar scent as Wesley held his head in one arm and placed his fingers at his shoulder with care. The red-headed speedster started to vibrate, gradually increasing the frequency, until a low hum could be heard buzzing through the air. The vibrations rocked R.J. gently, like a massage chair, only except better. Wesley was like his own personal message chair, crafted just for him, fitted just for him, and to give this kind of comfort just to him. God, did he love him. So very very much.

"Thank you, Wesley..."

A smile inched onto his lips, expression and body relaxing, arms gripping Wesley closer to him, never wanting to let go. Wesley lowered his head and placed a tiny kiss in his blue and onyx hair, the grin from before returning, but much much smaller.

"You're welcome."