A/N: Hey guys! A lil' something something that's been in my head for a while. It would be nice if it were a bit longer, I know, but its been sitting around on my computer for a few weeks and I feel like more would just be unnecessary padding. More words for the sake of more words can be a bad thing, sometimes. Anyhow I shall shut up now and hope you enjoy! Just fyi, this is intended as a one-shot, and although delicious possibilities are always on the horizon and I am not completely ruling out a second chapter, I can't promise anything either (like the coy bastard that I am). I still have that other story that I'm meant to be doing, haha. Okay, actually shutting up for real this time.

Big Spoon, Little Spoon

(Dream Brother)

On cold nights like this, when heavy snowfall smothered out the sounds of the city. On nights softened by moonlight reflected in white streets. When their bodies pressed into one another, without need for words.

That was when it really took him back.

Except now instead of a cold cell, it was an apartment with central heating. Now they huddled not for warmth, but for reassurance. It was hard when the memories hit you, and they came most often at night. In the dark hours they could trap your mind, hold hostage your thoughts until the sun's eventual rise, or a tender word broke the spell. Their intertwined fingers, their hands clasped and unafraid to hold each other tight – these were the tools by which they could lift one another from the bad places that existed only in their heads.

But tonight wasn't a night like that after all. Tala watched the snowflakes flutter like leaves outside, felt Kai's breath on his neck. In the house as quiet as a grave, it was the only noise. The muscular forearm draped loosely over him let Tala know that tonight; he too was in a good place.

It was Boris' unintentional legacy. All his ambition, his malice and his cruelty poured into his projects, his little experiments. This was the result. And like all good research, it was beautifully repeatable: as far as Tala could find, every last one of them at the Abbey had vanished from the 'blading scene like roaches scattering under a light. Pushed too hard, they were all broken now, and run away to search for their missing pieces in each other.

Tala recalled the day he'd asked Kai why. Why come here, to him specifically? Kai's reply had been that through the black days, it was the image of the redhead's cheeky smile that got him through. Silly, that such a small thing could bring him all the way back to Moscow; to Tala's door. But when he was down and out, that was what he'd held on to. And, just like that, Tala remembered it too. Kai had brought him something he'd long forgotten. Together they salvaged the fragments of former personalities and built themselves into functional people again. Sometimes they talked about the old times, and that helped. Sometimes just living alongside someone who understood was enough.

Nights were easier now. When he lived alone, Tala had been afraid of its time; its ceaseless hours. He barely slept knowing what awaited him in the terrible dreams. And then, exhausted from tossing and turning and pacing from room to room, morning would come and he would finally drop off in a chair, sunlight glorious and full in his face. He couldn't hold down a regular job. Even night shifts were terrifying because they meant walking the deserted streets, where every shadow held the threat of abduction. They used to disappear people all the time. But he needed the money, so he had tried, his heart in his mouth with each journey.

He didn't finish out the month. Bryan had gone – had disappeared – the once-weekly phone call they shared never came, and his number was disconnected. Tala refused to leave the house again, even when he ran out of food. And then guess who showed up? Just like the movies, Kai appeared, to save him from starving and an exceptionally pathetic death.

Sudden noise brought him back from midnight reminiscence. The pattern of Kai's breathing had changed. A whimper caught in his throat with every exhale, and Tala knew. The nightmares had their own rhythm.

This one was violent. Struggling against the twisted sheets, Kai shoved himself from the low bed and hit the floor. He did not wake. He was too deep. Tala unravelled his caught legs carefully, still lashing out at the mattress, and tried his best to scoop Kai up – to gather the shivering form into his arms. Limbs which had been kicking before, now just paddled the air no longer dangerous. Tala sat on the chilly floor beside him and cradled Kai against his chest. Funny; to be the big spoon for once, holding someone twice his size. The redhead was not able to lift him. He rocked them both; stroked sweat-plastered blue hair away from the other boy's face. He might not be strong enough to lift him, but they would await horror's end together. That, at least, he could do.

On nights like this, with feet blue from the cold and hands clammy with the fear of another. On nights where he could close his eyes and – snap! – be back there in an instant.

That was when the future appeared to Tala at its most beautiful, because it held little moments like this to come.