Archive of Our Own

Team Snakemouth hadn’t slept in two days.

At least, that’s what they thought. It was getting more and more difficult to recall the last time they slept, not because the last two days had been a blur, they could remember each and every moment down to the millisecond of what had transpired the last two days, but maybe just more because it felt like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

For a while, they actually did.

The last two days had been the longest days of their lives. And it was peculiar to think about, that in reality, they actually had been just as short as any other day. The sun hadn’t magically set later, minutes hadn’t suddenly dragged into hours, and hours into days themselves. The sun had set in the west and rose in the east, just like any other day, every other day, and the amount of time allotted between those two events had been the same as it ever was. 

But, to them, these two days had felt like two decades.

There hadn’t been any chances for them to sleep, not even a nap, and really there hadn’t been time for them to even take a breather. The war on the usurper had lasted long into the wee hours of the night, and there was no way they would have been able to sleep after that, anyway, if they had even tried. But they didn’t, because they knew the endeavor would not have bore fruit, and they didn’t really have time anyway. There was a celebration and a feast reserved for them, awaiting back under the sunny skies of home!

And then that in of itself had paraded on for into the waning hours of the next day. There had been so many people to greet, so much food to eat, so much to smile and unwind about. Kabbu and Leif had abstained from consuming any berry juice, as they didn’t want to wake up the next morning feeling like slugs, but they, Vi, and Chompy had indulged in just about everything else. Chompy had almost seemed overwhelmed, and it was the most they had ever seen the little chomper eat so far. Nobody was keeping track, but surely she must have given Leif a run for his berries.

But they had all enjoyed seeing most everyone they had ever even met come to the celebration much more than the food and the party itself. Professor Neolith, Jaune, and Leif’s family had been constant fixtures at their table, and the joy that was shared with not only them, but everyone there had been something they would cherish forevermore.

Kabbu, Leif and Vi had been thanked more than they had been their entire lives prior. (Of course, they always made sure Chompy got her flowers, too. Literally, as she was gifted a flower crown by…someone, Kabbu felt awful about the fact that he could not remember, but Leif and Vi assured him they would remember in the morning. Either way, the chomper had been showing it off proudly ever since.)

Zasp had even broken away from Mothiva, once, and genuinely thanked them in private. They had all been appreciative of everyone’s gratefulness, Kabbu very much so, but they were all just mostly happy that they had even made it back home, and that there was a home for them to return to.

Long after the festivities had begun, they were still lasting. In the middle hours of the day, it almost seemed as if the day would never end, and it in of itself would be everlasting.

Yet, perhaps unbelievably, the sun had set once again, and night had befallen the world. Eventually everyone else had gone home, and the only ones who didn’t either lived in the Ant Palace or not far from it. The high of the party had kept Team Snakemouth going for hours, but now that it had wound down, the sudden crash of energy had hit them like boulders. 

Queen Elizant II had, quite graciously, offered to let them sleep in the castle tonight, as surely it must be home to the finest, softest, most plush beds throughout the entirety of Bugaria, but they had kindly declined, agreeing that the most comfortable beds they could ever hope to find right now were their very own. It did occur to them that might’ve been their only ever chance to see those quarters of the palace, but that didn’t bother any of them too much, not even Vi.

Plus, the palace didn’t have any bunk beds.

Still trying to serve them as much as possible, she offered Zaryant as an escort to their home, even if it was only just down the street. But Kabbu had kindly rejected that with a shake of his head. By now understanding how to appeal to his emotions, they asked him what would happen should Leif and Vi collapse on the way home, but Kabbu merely replied that he would “carry them home himself.”

Although such a measure had need not be enacted, it was still a slog to make it back. The stars had helped them find their way back, and it was hard not to be enamored by them after they had been kept under roofs so long for so recently. At one point Vi had wondered just a tad too long, and bumped into Kabbu, though luckily the beetle’s stability had left him unfazed.

It had been a struggle even to open the door. Once Leif fiddled with it sufficiently, and he was able to peek it open, they all poured into the comfortable confines and started for their beds. 

Kabbu had begun to huff, the always energetic Vi had started to slow in her movements. They exchanged goodnights, like they always did, though rather hurriedly, they could not make it to their beds fast enough. 

The lowest bunk paid off for Kabbu, as he had to exert the least amount of energy to sink into his bed. If he was more awake, he surely would have offered to take the top tonight, but he must have been too enervated for the thought to cross his half-awake mind. Vi had flown up to her topmost bunk with a noticeable wince, and though thanks to his stature Leif did not have to do too much to climb into his middle bunk, he still could feel his arms and legs protesting such an action.

It was Chompy who really won, though, as she only had to bound over to her bed on the floor.

But they all made it. Somehow, against all odds, they’d made it.

And they could sleep.

…

…

…

No. Not quite yet.

It had started with groans. Both above him and below him. Quiet at first, but they grew louder the more time that passed when they started, and they grew worse and more inflicted with each movement that they made, and they had started to move a lot. Evidently, they were trying to find a comfortable position, one that would relieve them of it all, but nothing seemed to work.

Leif hadn’t been able to close his eyes, and it was most definitely because of all of that.

After minutes, that felt like hours, of tossing and turning and painful moaning, Leif could hear the muffled sound above him of Vi screaming into her pillow.

“Guys…everything…hurts,” she managed to mumble out.

The adrenaline had finally worn off.

Suddenly all the joy, all the excitement and the smiles and laughter and happiness of the day had been sucked up, evaporated, and molted only into abject pain, biting, harrowing, hollowing pain. 

Searing pain that smeared everything there was to smile about into something to wince about, something to recoil from and grit mandibles about. Pain that sliced through their bodies uninvited, yet sized them up and was incited to do as it pleased to them, and they had no input or say in the manner because it wasn't like they could simply tackle their own bodies.

Kabbu hacked, almost wheezy. “My body feels as if…” he interrupted himself with another cough, and then never finished what he was going to say.

Leif hurt, too. His body hurt too, at least what it could reach, and it thought that the rest of his body probably hurt too, much like Vi was saying. His joints pulsed with pain, sometimes it felt like the entirety of his wings would sting. But whatever he was dealing with must be nowhere near as excruciating as what his teammates were, he almost felt as if he set his mind to it, he’d be able to sleep through it. But he’d never be able to, if he tried, because what was hurting him the most, throbbing and sobbing and swelled with pangs and brokenness, was his heart. 

He didn’t want to try, not now.

How unfair. How unfair it was for them to be subjected to this. He wished, in the moment, nothing else than to make them feel better. Nothing more. 

They mulled in the bitter air for an intermission, the only perceptive sound being more groans or chokes. That was, until Leif could pick up the sound of something else. Something awful, something that struck him almost down for the count, because it was too heartbreaking, too disparaging.

He could hear Vi begin to cry. He couldn’t remember hearing her ever cry before.

“I just…want…to go to sleep,” she wept.

“Vi…” Kabbu called out desperately from the bottom bunk.

Leif had heard enough. He had enough. He wasn’t going to let this stand, and he most certainly wasn’t going to let them put up with this.

He slipped out of his bed, and plopped onto the floor. Spread his wings, one pointing out to them.

“Leif…?” Kabbu croaked, sitting up in his bed just enough to address him properly, “what…what are you doing…?”

“Are you two able to make it out of bed?” Leif entreated.

With a huff, Kabbu considered. “I…think I can,” he agreed, before wiggling his way out from his covers, and…falling onto the floor with a great clamor. 

“Kabbu!” Vi peered over her bed, “are you okay!?”

The beetle, laying facefirst into the floorboards, propped himself up and shook his head in an attempt to clear his brain fog. “Ngh…” he grumbled, “I…I’m alright.”

Leif was over to him in an instant, and brought him to his feet. “We didn’t mean like that,” he addressed, sadly.

“I didn’t either,” Kabbu muttered, and to Leif he gained that little edge to his voice he always did when he was frustrated with himself. That just wouldn’t do.

“But it works just fine,” Leif countered, and he tried to look softly into Kabbu’s dimmed eyes, “and the hard part is over now.”

Kabbu looked at him, a bit curiously. “What…what do you mean?”

Leif was about to explain, but before he could, Kabbu eyes shrunk in shock. “By the glorious sunsets of the sacred hills! Vi!” And before Leif could do anything else, Kabbu had started to climb up to the top bunk. Clearly he was going to make do on that promise he made to carry them. 

“Kabbu!” Leif objected, and tried to grab onto him and stop him. But Kabbu was too strong, and he effortlessly brushed past his claw. And yet, though his mind was as strong-willed as ever, his body was not, and halfway up it gave up and gave way, making him tumble back onto the floor.

“Kabbu!” both Leif and Vi cried, and if Kabbu’s goal was to stop Vi from moving herself, then he had fallen a bit short, as all of this were enough to get Vi to hover out of bed and down to the floor.

He lay, this time face-up, dazed and surprised, before resigning himself to a sigh as he looked at them. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Kabbu, stop!” Vi commanded, and usually about now she would be waving her arms in anger, though it must pain her too much to do so now. “What could you possibly be saying sorry for!?”

“I...I don't know,” Kabbu admitted, as he took Leif's outstretched claw again for the second time in about as many minutes. Ideally, there would be no third time to act as the charm.

“Then don't be sorry,” Leif advised.

“I…I will try,” Kabbu promised.

Now would probably be a good time for an evaluation, but his eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light, and so Leif decided to get it straight from them first. “Can you tell us where it hurts?” It was a question Leif didn’t want to ask, but it was one he desperately needed the answer to.

Vi’s eyes shone like a puddle, “every…everywhere,” she blubbered, her voice rasping and cracking on the verge of tearing again.

“We know, we know,” Leif tried to soothe, but he could feel his heart ripping into two. “Where does it hurt the most?”

Vi tipped her head to Kabbu’s direction, presumably asking him to supply the answer this time. Kabbu seemed to search every single nook and cranny of his mind for a more telling answer, but he too could only muster up a pained uttering of the word “everywhere.” The frustration rose to the surface of his voice again.

Leif sighed, a heavy and hearty sound, and he glanced briefly at the floor, for he felt as if he had gathered too much, before looking back up at them, ready to handle more.

Kabbu’s eyes had darkened almost to the point of invisibility, he looked as downtrodden as he’d ever had. “Oh, my friends,” he whimpered, “I wish you didn't have to feel like this.”

“Hey, you shouldn't have to feel like this either!” Vi looked up at the ceiling and glared, piercing through the covering and glowering at the sky itself. “Why should any of us have to feel like this!?” If Venus was listening, none of them knew for sure if she was, she would certainly know what Vi was asking.

They had been so excited to sleep. In fact, in the lingering hour of the celebrations, that had practically been all they had talked about. How good it would feel, how long they would, when they would wake up, who would be the first to wake. They had even made friendly bets, no actual berries at stake, of who would be the last to wake up, as they would be a rotten aphid egg.

Now all of that had been thrown out the window. Not even their own, one of the ones on the tippest top of a building in the Termite Capital, because all their hopes for rest had shattered into nothingness when it reached the ground. Life had a penchant for turning plans up on their heads, each one of them knew that and had lived that, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get at least a little upset when their best-laid ones were cast aside and away.

If Vi had been expecting an answer, she didn’t get one.

By now, the various rackets had triggered Chompy to stir. Her jaws stretched open wide in a long, drawn out, high-pitched yawn, before she ventured from the comforts of her bed and trotted over to her companions. 

The tiniest amount of light returned to Kabbu’s eyes. “Oh dear, I hope you’re feeling better than the rest of us.” He tried to bend down to pat her, but he winced in the process, and again Leif took a heavy blow to his chest.

The chomper chirped quietly, and almost reservedly. She may have just wanted to see what the commotion was about, but she seemed to understand that something was wrong, and she didn't like that at all.

Though now they were all in tandem with each other again. They had wanted to fall together, but now here they were, united in standing. Either way, at least they were with each other.

But things were going to change around here.

Leif unsheathed his claws from under his wings, and held out one to Vi, and the other to Kabbu. Vi took his immediately, Kabbu took a little more coaxing, but eventually at last they locked together. Leif started for the window, where the moonlight creeped in cautiously, as if treading the property lines, unsure if what it was doing was trespassing. 

Maybe on most nights it would be an uninvited guest, but tonight, Leif would extend a welcome invitation, as his old eyes could use all the assistance they could get.

Chompy followed closely, bobbing between their feet, until they stopped in such a spot where Kabbu and Vi could be better seen. Though Vi’s eyes fought the sudden change in light, so Leif shielded her face with a wing.

Now he could evaluate them, perhaps not properly and certainly not fully, but he would leave that to the professionals tomorrow. Looking up and down and all around Kabbu, the moonlight peeping through the window was all Leif required to see all the various marks that marred the beetle’s body. Of course there were the burn wounds, but there were also teethmarks, that made even Leif shiver to recall the origin of, and all kinds of incisions and stabs and remnants.

Patches of fur were missing in action upon Vi, parts of her neckfluff were tinged black from being singed, and she almost looked in some areas as if her stripes had overtaken the rest of her body. In the places where her fur had skipped home, burn wounds, identical to the ones Kabbu suffered from, had taken over and overrun.

Leif didn’t bother to look at himself, but he figured he looked somewhat similar, if the horrified look on Kabbu’s face said anything. And only just then did Leif notice the soot that still clung onto the beetle’s mouthguard.

Truly, they were all a mess. But they were a mess together.

Vi looked alarmed, too. “We…we looked like this the whole time?” she breathed, almost daring the words to come out.

It dawned on Leif, then, that he hadn’t noticed any of these things before. Was that because he had just been too exhausted? Had he merely glazed over them, or was it because in the aftermath of everything, they had simply become parts of them? Features that were expected to be there?

He knew, now, that they were not, and in time, they would recede. But they couldn’t jump forward in time to when that would happen, and Leif had had quite enough of jumping through time for two lifetimes anyhow. 

Tomorrow, they'd all get treated. By only the best the kingdom had to offer. But, for tonight, they would rest. They would. Because tomorrow would get here quicker if they went to sleep. And Leif knew just how they were going to.

He sat down on the floor, scrunched his legs against his body, and opened up his wings again like a door, flapping them a touch invitingly. “Come,” he said.

Kabbu and Vi looked at each other.

“What are you two waiting for?”

Confused, Vi turned her narrowed eyes to him. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to make you feel better.”

“How?”

“You’ll see.”

It took a moment for either of them to take the first step, but Vi did, and Kabbu wasn’t close behind her. They, too, collapsed into heaps onto the floor, and they seemed to understand what they had to do, each one burrowing under each of his wings. He swathed his wings over them, ensuring that nobody could do them harm, no matter what kind of weapon or magic they had on them. 

Vi was able to make herself just tall enough to lean against his fluff. She mumbled into it, “you make a better pillow than my actual one…”

Leif smirked just a little bit. They had been a lot of things over their years, his years and its years, but he didn’t think he’d ever been a pillow before. He supposed there was a first time for everything, and right now a pillow was the perfect thing for him to be.

Kabbu was still trying to catch his breath, even crawling to this position had taken a lot out of him, but he caught enough to still say “thank you, Leif…”

Chompy circled for a few seconds, before flopping down and curling up against Leif's legs.

He let them get situated, as comfortable as they could. He thought wryly to himself if they thought this was his plan, if so, they had no idea he was only getting started.

Taking in a deep breath, he tried his hardest to wrap his arms and his wings in such a manner that he could cover every part of them, before he channeled every single crystal that lay in his own body. Leif didn't think he had ever been so grateful for them before, and that was after they had helped to save Bugaria. 

He chilled them just enough, he hoped, to relieve them and ease their pain. More than the refreshments of a cool breeze, but far from the complete package of encasement via ice. Though, he did guess that with how wracked with pain the two of them must be, they might not object to the latter should it be suggested.

Still, he kept his cool.

Even after both Kabbu and Vi objected.

“Hey!”

“L-Leif! What are you…!”

“Helping you,” Leif replied sardonically, “what else?”

The beetle huffed, and his eyes even brightened in anger. The lack of sleep must have been making him cranky now, and usually when angered Kabbu played the part of intimidator extremely well, but right now Leif found his grump cute rather than threatening. “You didn't say you would be using your magic!”

Leif couldn't help but smirk in the face of his friend’s upturned gaze, “and what's wrong with that?”

“You…!” Usually Kabbu was well on top of his words, but the sleeplessness must be making him lose his balance. “You shouldn't need to!”

“And yet, we do. And we're doing it anyway.”

Vi chimed in. “You're gonna tire yourself out!”

“Isn't that kind of the point?” he questioned. 

She didn't reply to that, at least not with her words. After a look of resigned defeat, she simply stuck her proboscis out at him.

He looked between the two of them, frosty eyes twinkling with amusement, “do you two really want us to stop?”

They didn't reply to that. It wasn't like Leif had been planning to stop if they'd told him to anyway, but it was nice to get the confirmation. 

And so like that was how they stayed. Silent, in his wings, besides their breaths. He could feel their chests rising and falling against his own, and it was a constant presence, a consistent presence, two he could count on to be there no matter what. It felt beautiful to be so close with another bug, so awe-inducing to live such a moment, and especially so close and such a moment with them. He felt so connected to them suddenly, and he swaddled them just a little more.

Despite how sedative the atmosphere was, all three of them kept their eyes open for a while longer yet. Mostly looking up at the ceiling. It was wondrous how they could do so, with their fatigue and the serenity and everything else, but maybe this moment had become so special and bookmark worthy, circling the date on the calendar worthy, that they all had to live within the moment for some moments, lest they sleep through it all and forget all about it.

Perhaps they were just merely thinking how good it can be. That for all its hardships and for all its flipped plans, life could be so good. How fortunate they were that what they were experiencing right now could even happen, all of the things that had to go right and even the things that had to go wrong. If nothing else, if nothing more, all of it had been worth it for this moment right here. If this were the culmination of everything that had happened, how could they be so mad at the events of life, mad at themselves?

There was to hoping that they could always be there for each other, like this, for always and always and always. Because each of them knew that love was to share, and right now there was nobody else in the great big world that they would rather share it with. Sharing is caring, and caring is loving, and loving is living.

If this moment were to freeze in time, and it would be the only thing they could live through for the rest of time, it wouldn't be so bad. Far from it, actually. If this current were to be transcending, and overpower every other plan they’d both dedicated days to and hadn’t spent more than a second on, then rooting within it and making a shared home would be their new plan.

Life had always played games with their plans, even through to this day and this moment. And though they were allowed to be upset by that, and often they were, they were also resourceful, and adaptable, and they always came back with a new plan to work with and build off of. And that was why life worked.

It could not be under nor overstated how much of a pleasure and a privilege it was to be able to occupy the same space as them. To dwell within their radius, or even inhabit the same room with them, was something not to be taken for granted. But to be this close, and for them to want to be this close, was fully a miracle of life. 

The idea that they had lived enough to create this moment was difficult to comprehend. The truly elite scholars of the world had always attempted to discover the meaning of life, and some had even questioned if it was a mistake for bugkind to be awoken in the first place. Leif had never been much of a philosopher, but it occurred to him, right now, that the meaning of life was currently huddled underneath his wings, for only his and their eyes to see.

It was to connect with people, touch their hearts and lives in such ways that they want to touch yours, they want to influence your life and your person in a good way, in the best way, and make your life the best it can be. No matter how much or how little the time you have with each other. Little deeds can do big things, and you never know how much you can help someone until you try.

He could not agree with the idea that being awoken had been a misdeed, because for all the harm and grief and strife intelligence caused, if it led to moments like this one, surely it was all worth it in the end. And he liked to believe that in their primeval antcestors, there had been a strive and a desire for connection too, perhaps not to the degree that the three of them shared, transcending background and disposition and species, but still one instilled and prevalent.

Surely it would not last, and it would begin its questioning and disillusionment again someday soon, but right now, it was comfortable within its own body, more so maybe than ever before. Not only itself, but despite the pain, also comfortable within his chitin, and now it did not feel like the failure or the monster that it was inclined to believe it was, led to believe from both others and itself.

But never them. They'd never made him feel like anything less. They'd never made him feel like an outcast. He always felt like he belonged, with them.

The pain had not gone away, it would not truly dissipate for much time from now. But they all did not know it was there anymore. Their breaths all came easier now, all clear and with no signs of blockage or stoppage, no whistles or sneezes, and the only variation that ever occurred was sighing in pure relief and enjoyment. There was only beauty and love and care, and for now, in this revolve, everything resolved right with the world. 

It may have been a revelation, but they'd already discovered their care for each other long before tonight.

Ever since he had taken out his second lease on life, he had been trying to live for the present as much as he could. If there was anyone in the world who knew that tomorrow was no guarantee, it was him. And so he set his mind to the idea of living as if there was no tomorrow, not to panic himself into believing that every day would be his last, but simply that every day could be his last, and that was nothing to be ashamed of. Especially when the present, as it were this very moment, was its own present, every day.

Every morning, he received a present. A multitude, plenitude of them. Waking up, in a place with food, water, and shelter, waking up in a place where he was wanted, a place where he belonged and was loved and cared for. A place with other beings who would wake up, and wanted him to wake up with them, so they could share in the fruits of love and life together.

Kabbu, Vi, and Chompy gave him presents every morning, and perhaps they weren't even aware.

It was written somewhere that the basic needs of awakened bugs were food, water, and shelter. He didn't think that to be true, because he felt there was a fourth, that being connection. That connecting to other bugs was a need for all, and it was one that would never die even within the likes of hermits. No one wants to feel like an outcast, he didn't think, and surely everyone just wants to feel like they belong somewhere.

He was lucky that he had woken up in the place and with the people he felt he could belong with.

Maybe that weren't true, on the face of it, because of the time and people he had hailed from. Maybe he didn't objectively belong here, in this era, with them, and maybe he was displaced and somewhere he would never truly fit into. Maybe it never should have seen the sun, and stayed in a tube or at least underground for all its days. But he and it, they together, both felt like they could belong here, and that was good enough for them.

His teammates certainly thought he belonged here at least, particularly with them, and that was even better.

The moment was so treasurable, cherishable, he almost thought he was dreaming. They didn’t dream, nowadays, but it could tug on the wisps of his memories of dreaming, and right now, it felt as if this, this moment in time, must be what dreams were made of. It felt like safety, shelter maybe, and it felt so comforting and and so sweet, like the lullabies his mother used to sing to him. 

He knew he wasn’t dreaming, because he could tangibly feel his family’s rustles and stirs against him, hear their breathing and beating of their hearts, and they were not dreamlike, they were real and instilled so much within him. But if this were a dream, and he could catch his dreams, he’d want to cup this one in his claws, corral it and cradle it gently and softly, hold it against his face, and dream it every night.

He didn’t know if he’d been worried, he might not have had the time to, but he did know he had felt something over the last two days. Something like worry, he supposed, or maybe even fear or sorrow. He didn’t think he’d ever doubted his teammates, if he ever did then right now he’d want to profusely apologize, but maybe there had been times where he had worried that they all wouldn’t come out on top.

And it would have been a shame, to say the absolute least, because just when they’d finally discovered who and what they were, and they’d found people who accepted them and loved them for who they were, they would have lost it all over again. And not just those people, but the whole world as he had come to know it for a second time, it would have transformed without him yet again.

He didn’t like that thought, not one bit at all, and it didn’t fit this moment at all, it was not cut out for it, and so he cast it aside and set it there. Because as serendipitous as this all was, eventually this moment would pass, as all things must do, it would pass him by and he would leave it behind, fleeting and fleeing forward, should his days allow him to. And so he wanted to soak it in, take it in, let it move through him and around and across him, and he didn’t want to blemish the memory with platitudes of what ifs and should’ves, could’ves, would'ves. It was too sublime for that, far too delightful.

He wanted more days, in his life, he wanted more days to spend with the ones around him, more days in his future to experience more moments like this one with them, but he did think, that if he were to fall asleep now, and not reawake in the morning, he would have passed a happy bug, or whatever they were. There wasn’t much more he could ask for, nothing he could wish for, more than this, right now. He could leave now, and he would be happy and content.

Still, he was looking forward to tomorrow.

A high-pitched whisper made his antennae twitch. “I still can’t believe no one said anything about how we look…”

Kabbu whispered back, though his whispers were always much louder. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone could find room to care. But,” he paused dramatically, “I do wish I could have cleaned myself up a little. It would have been more…proper.”

Leif looked down at them, between them. “No one said anything because you two look very brave.” 

Red shone under the soot gathered on Kabbu’s face, and Vi smiled up at him. “So do you!” she giggled.

“We suppose we look like we played our part,” Leif smirked.

Vi chittered again, before sighing happily and gazing up at the ceiling. “You'd think Mothiva would've said something, you know?”

“She didn't because then she'd only be drawing attention to the fact that she has nothing of the sort,” Leif snickered.

Vi laughed, a genuine, cheerful, beautiful laugh, although it didn't shine for long until it burned out into a coughing fit. Still, the bee managed another smile. “Hehe, no wonder I barely saw her!”

Kabbu, however, hummed. “She contributed too, you know. Just because she wasn’t physically harmed as much as us, doesn’t mean she didn’t aid us on our way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vi waved him off, “whatever you say, Kabs!”

The beetle shook his head, but Leif was in such proximity with him that he could hear perfectly the small chuckle that slipped past his mandibles. “Oh, you two…”

Vi giggled again, before the blanket of silence fell upon them again.

Some time passed. Kabbu nestled deeper under his wings, and sighed placidly. And Leif was verklempt with some kind of feeling, what he would maybe venture to call an instinct, overpowering and washing over him, and he wrapped his wings ever tighter and ever softer around them. It felt like something inside him that had always been there but had never been called upon, never been summoned, and was only just now receiving his echo.

Perhaps it was his fatherly instincts that he had never gotten the chance to use.

Team Snakemouth didn't refrain from telling each other that they loved each other. It had taken them some time to get to that point, but once Kabbu had said it for the first time, the barrier had been broken, and the flood of love caressed through. But no one said it tonight. There was no need to. Their love for each other was expressed through every action that they gave. 

Every single one of them had discovered and rediscovered so much, across their shared days, about themselves and each other, and there was still much for them all to want, but though he couldn’t speak for Kabbu, Vi, and Chompy, especially not Vi in this example, he thought that he had all he needed, right here. He’d like to think that every single one of them had all they needed, within these four walls and floor and ceiling, and under his wings.

“Goodnight, everyone,” Kabbu murmured, perhaps making it official.

“Sweet dreams,” Leif offered.

“See ya tomorrow,” Vi piped.

Chompy huddled closer against him, and settled her head onto the floor as she let out the softest of purrs.

“Leif…you're too comfy,” Vi muttered, as she leaned further against his fluff, as her eyes finally fluttered shut. 

He expected to hear Kabbu offer yet another ‘thank you’, but the beetle had already drifted asleep.

Leif didn't mind. Hearing his snores reverberate through the room was all the thanks he needed.