Thomas and Harry share a bed when they live together. It's a thing. They don't really talk about it, but unlike the usual not talking they do it's less because they don't want to do emotions and more because it just doesn't feel like there's much to talk about.

It happens like this:

They both have nightmares. With the kind of lives they lead, it's inevitable. They've only been living together a couple weeks but Thomas is already up when Harry shuffles into the kitchen at 2:47 in the morning, well aware of Harry's panic. He thinks it must be a brothers thing, he knows it's partly a White Court thing. He may feed off lust but he's pretty well attuned to all emotions.

His brother looks awful, like half of him is still asleep and half of him has just faced down his worst nightmare. Probably not too far from the truth.

He watches Harry stare blankly at the counter for several seconds before taking pity on him. "Harry."

Harry nearly jumps out of his skin, clearly he hadn't realized Thomas was awake. Or maybe that Thomas was there at all. He turns and Thomas beckons him toward the couch, patting the spot next to him. Harry moves almost automatically and Thomas thinks he's probably glad for something that he can comprehend.

Thomas waits until Harry's sat down before standing up, heading to the counter and lighting the stove so the kettle can heat. He digs around in the cabinets until he finds the teabags he knows are there, rinsing two reasonably clean mugs in the sink before dropping the bags into them.

He turns to Harry as he waits for the water to boil. He doesn't have to ask to know Harry had a nightmare. Eventually he offers up conversation, "Tea'll help you get back to sleep."

Harry just nods, gives Thomas a tired but grateful look. Thomas can hear the water beginning to boil and turns back to it, pouring it into the mugs. He doesn't bother with saucers, knows Harry doesn't care about preserving his coffee table.

He sets them down and sits next to Harry silently, close enough for their shoulders to brush, a silent show of support. Neither of them drink their tea and the next thing he knows he's waking up, propped up against Harry on the couch. Harry's propped against him too and it's clear they fell asleep like that, though he doesn't remember doing so.

It's the best he's slept in a while, even if he knows Harry will be complaining about his neck and back all day.

The next time it happens, it's Thomas. He jerks awake from a nightmare, some half-remembered dream about Justine and his Demon as a physical creature and he can't be alone.

Without really thinking about it he creeps to Harry's bedroom door, pushes it open quietly just enough to let him slip inside. He moves to sit on the very edge of the bed but he's only been there a moment before a warm hand presses against his back and his brother says, "Just lay down, will you?"

And Thomas tries to lay on top of the covers but Harry's having none of it because "I'm not leaving you out in the cold."

By the time Thomas is situated under the covers, a warm cocoon that seems to promise to protect him from any sort of harm, he's already halfway back to sleep and he mumbles, "Thanks little brother."

The next time, he wakes to see Harry standing in the doorway to his bedroom and staring at him. He doesn't need to ask, he just stands, follows Harry as his brother retreats back to bed. He climbs in, loops an arm around Harry's waist easily.

Harry only freezes for a moment before relaxing into the contact and Thomas counts it as a win for the cause. The closer they are the easier they both seem to sleep.

They never really talk about it, usually start out the night in their own beds until one of them wakes, until Thomas crawls in next to Harry or Harry comes out to get his brother. Sometimes, when they're really tired, when one or both of them has had a hard day, they don't even pretend. They just both head for Harry's bed, curling into each other under the blankets.

They don't have nightmares so much anymore.