Archive of Our Own ^beta

Deadwood sinks into William’s skin and crawls beneath it. The first night they stay there, under itchy blankets and without the creaks and whines of the Winnebago settling into the asphalt beneath them, William can’t sleep. The wind whistles through the trees like a far off song, full of sadness and deep, sullen longing. Vyncent lies across the cabin fast-asleep, scuffling under the blankets as he moves in his sleep. Dakota is on the bunk below William, dead-silent, and that tells him Dakota isn’t asleep either.

“Kota?”

“Yeah?” He sounds tired, in the same way William feels it. Bone-deep. Heavy and crushing on one’s soul. The weight of the world is sitting on the shoulders of three teenagers who barely even know what they want for themselves, let alone how to fix the mistakes of those who came before them.

“Do you think we’ll get out of here?”

“‘Course! We’re the Prime Defenders!”

“No, I mean…” William sighs, and rolls onto his side. “Dakota, what if I die here?”

“That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’ve died here before.” William hears the lower bunk creak, sheets crumple as they’re pushed aside. The soft pad of bare feet on cold wooden floors, the creak again as Dakota slowly climbs the ladder, feeling his way through the dim light. “I’ve died… I’ve died so often I can’t even tell why I’m still scared of it.”

Dakota sits down at the foot of William’s bed, hair brushing the ceiling. “Well, I know why I am.”

William sits up too, more cautiously, like the bed might crack below him. 

“I’m scared to lose you.”

Breath catches and sticks in William’s throat. “Yeah?”

Dakota stretches out a hand and tangles his fingers with William’s. “And maybe… Maybe you’re scared of losing it all, too. Of losing us.”

“... Of losing you,” William adds, far quieter than he was speaking before.

“We’ll get out of here, okay? We’ll find the Trickster, and… And then we’ll get back in the Winnebago, and we’ll call Tide, and… And you can have my bed for the night, if you want!”

William’s lips quirk up at the offer; Dakota’s bed is tucked into a nook, hidden away from the cacophony of colour and mess of the rest of the Winnebago where it’s quiet and calm. Still, William finds himself saying, “Will you be there too?”

Dakota smiles. “If you want me to be.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“Then move over,” Dakota says, with no hesitation. William stares at him.

“You sure you’ll be able to actually-”

“I couldn’t sleep down there, William. I might have better luck.”

“...Okay.” William shifts over as Dakota moves up the bed. They settle in beside each other, sheets rustling as they pull them up. Dakota slings an arm over William’s side, and neither of them say anything. They don’t need to. It feels right.

Deadwood still crawls under William’s skin, but this time, he can focus on the warmth of Dakota’s arm instead.