Work Text:
Devon has been alive for many, many years, so many that he’s lost count of the specifics. And with a long life comes a lot of knowledge; and while Devon certainly did not pretend to know everything, he surely knew a whole lot. He had seen civilizations rise and fall, the end of a race and the beginning of another, he had seen the sun rise and fall again and again and again for millenia upon millenia.
Which is why it is beyond him how something like this could’ve possibly escaped him.
He had been lying in bed well past midnight, eyes closed in what apparently was a futile effort to fall asleep, wrapped under a blanket and tangled between Tom’s arms.
Tom, on his part, was fast asleep, as per usual. It was almost impressive how quickly he could fall asleep. Anytime, anywhere. Devon had even caught him nodding off while standing up. Had he no recurrent toughts to constantly torment him? Devon suspected he didn’t. Sometimes he suspected he didn’t have many thoughts at all, but that would be a little mean.
Tom was usually very good at knocking thoughts of his own head, but unfortunately it was not an effect that lasted very long after the fact– unless he managed to tire him out enough that he would short of pass out next to him (which, to his credit, he had done a few times).
This was not one of those times, but Devon would hardly resent him for it.
Sleeping next to someone else usually made it altogether harder for Devon to doze off. Tom wasn’t really an exception, but he was sweet company nevertheless. He was warm, and his weight was more comfortable than being alone with his own thoughts either way.
Eventually, Devon opened his eyes, just as wide awake as he had been when the lamps had been blown out and Tom had crawled in bed with him and knocked out almost immediately (the bastard). The curtains were open, and it must’ve been a full moon out, because enough light trickled in for him to make out Tom’s figure against him. Devon could feel his breathing soft against his collarbone, where Tom had snuck his face against his neck, chest rising and falling softly against him. Devon had tried to match his breathing earlier, in another useless effort to find sleep; yet it continued to elude him.
Tom made a noise as if something had disturbed his peaceful slumber (a stray thought, perhaps?), and nuzzled his head further into the crook of Devon’s neck, as the hold around his waist tightened briefly before going slack again.
Devon huffed out a breath. Needy.
Gently, Devon ran a finger up Tom’s arm, tracing abstract spirals and patterns. He travelled all the way up to his shoulder, tracing the muscle up to his neck, and softly tangling his fingers with the short curls at his nape.
That’s when the noise started.
Devon didn’t know what it was or where it came from, and he sat up in alarm almost instantly.
Strange noises were never good news. They hadn’t been for a good ten thousand years and they sure as hell wouldn’t start to be now.
He ran through his options quickly. It could be magic, although it was unlikely. James’ magic was silent, and the likeness of another mage was small (although not null). It could be an object, but it didn’t quite sound like anything Devon knew.
Of course, with humans and their frantic need of invention these past few years, it could well be some sort of machine. What kind, Devon couldn’t fathom.
He glanced around the room trying to spot a particular source. The noise was soft, rumbling, and, albeit rythmic, it had an organic quality to it, like breathing. Sort of like a cat’s purring.
Sort of like a cat’s–
No.
Slowly, Devon lowered his eyes to the man lying next to him (who had not moved an inch, by the way).
Not a chance.
His brows furrowed and his mouth curled down into a frown.
It didn’t make any sort of sense. He couldn’t possibly. Right?
Devon leaned down, slowly, and then sat back up as if Tom had personally insulted his entire race.
It couldn’t be. Couldn’t possibly. Slowly, careful not to wake him (although it seemed unlikely), Devon placed his hand against Tom’s throat, splaying it down to his sternum.
His frown deepened.
It was entirely ridiculous. Lions did’t purr. They’re not actual cats, it’s a nominal name. Perhaps, back when they were– but they were certainly not that anymore, they hadn’t been for a long time. Devon used to be a unicorn but he sure as fuck didn’t still neigh. Devon racked his brain, trying to find any piece of memory that could justify this incredible oversight. He had been alive this long. Something like this– it couldn’t possibly have escaped him, could it?
It wasn’t like Devon had spent his whole lifetime away from Lions. On the contrary, he could say he had spent way over a good dozen centuries being awfully close with Lions. It’s not like Tom’s the first that–
Devon would remember if this had happened before. Wouldn’t he?
He stared at Tom, unmoving, unblinking, for what felt for a good few minutes. Actual lions didn’t fucking purr, as far as Devon knew– but, apparently, what would he know. Could he be faking it? Could he possibly simply be rolling his tongue and mimicking a cat like a dork?
Under his hand, he could feel the soft thrumming coming from Tom’s chest.
Ridiculous. Downright ridiculous.
Devon didn’t know if to find this discovery flattering, or annoying, in light of not being able to recall it ever happening before. Truly, how could he not have known? It couldn’t possibly be a very specific Tom peculiarity, he wasn’t really all that peculiar.
He had to admit, learning something new at his age wasn’t all that common an occurrence.
Slowly, the thrumming started dwindling and dying out, and Devon tilted his head slightly to the side. He lifted his hand off of Tom’s chest, and gently moved to stroke his hair again, running his nails gently against his scalp.
The sound flared up again, low and rumbling.
Ridiculous.
Tom, who had seemed to be impossible to perturb right until now, suddenly scrunched up his nose and attempted to burrow into the pillow, which he seemed to find inadequate. The arm he had thrown around Devon, that had fallen on his lap when he sat up, suddenly tightened around him and seemed intent on pulling him back down.
Devon sighed.
Utterly ridiculous.
Slowly, he laid back down to his original spot, still running his fingers through Tom’s curls. Tom, who had briefly threatened to wake up, found the crook of his neck once again, which seemed to content him. The arm around him found itself at his waist again, and the hold tightened, not loosening up this time around.
Devon almost rolled his eyes.
Tom’s purring echoed against his own chest. Devon tangled his legs between Tom’s.
Slowly, still running his fingers through Tom hair, he closed his eyes.