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Hidgens' Eccentricities

Summary:

Professor Henry Hidgens is not an eccentric. That's why he's out at one in the morning buying milk! Fortunately a friend stumbles upon him, and it goes on from there.

Notes:

I hereby dub this ship "Pidgens!" But I can't believe it hasn't been a thing until now. Hope you guys enjoy sleepy gay disasters as much as I do.

Work Text:

Henry never exactly thought of himself as an eccentric. Sure, he tended to avoid any and all human contact that wasn’t with his Very Specific Student Friends and occasionally the campus staff, but, didn’t everyone do that? No, no, Professor Henry Hidgens was not an eccentric. He simply had very reasonable views about the world that for some inexplicable reason no one shared. Like, for instance, the fact that one in the morning was a perfectly good time for a grocery run, not because he just realized he was out of milk- SOMEHOW! -And he didn’t want to eat his cereal dry, but because the Universe deemed it so. He simply had to go right then, all would not be well otherwise! Regardless of the reason, Henry found himself in the milk aisle at the local store, praising the God he didn’t quite believe in that it was open this late. To his immense relief, almost no one was in the shop with him, he wasn’t quite sure he could afford the mental gymnastics that getting through an interaction with the general public would take. Especially not after what happened the last week, that exhausted him so- No, no, not going to bring it back, he thought at himself, still staring blankly at the milk. Henry also most certainly wasn’t dwelling on the fact that one specific friend of his hadn’t gotten back to him, he wasn’t painfully terrified that either that thing had fully taken over and erased him permanently, or some sort of government agency had gotten to him. No sir!

“Er- Professor?”

Oh thank God- “Paul! What are you doing out here so late?” he asked, eying the younger man next to him. Same tousled, brownish hair, same hazel eyes- Just a new ring, that’s all, bright blue. New mouth, same bright blue. He knew all these things were so already, but he still liked re-observing. Oh, no, Paul had said something, he didn’t know what- “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing! It’s really damn late, you know that, right?” Paul asked and- Oh, he’s cute, isn’t he? Henry thought so, and so he zoned out again, until Paul put a hand on his shoulder. “Is this the only thing you needed, Hidgens?” Paul asked as he picked up a jug, in a gentle tone Henry hadn’t quite expected.

“Oh- Yes, it is,” he replied, noticing that his own eyes were starting to droop and- He was suddenly in the other man’s arms, as Paul made confused and occasionally melodious noises.

“Jesus, when’d you last sleep?” he asked, shifting Henry so he was being carried, bridal style. “I’m buying you your milk and my- ...Cookies. And I’m going to bring you to my place, no buts,” he said, and Henry couldn’t even respond. The time between then and when he was suddenly in the passenger side seat of Paul’s car was blurry, but he could distinctly remember wanting to fight at least one person, and Henry mustered enough coherency to ask about it. “You wanted to fight yourself, Professor,” Paul replied, with a gentle smile and a chuckle. “It didn’t surprise me.”

“The rat bastard deserves it!” Henry announced, and Paul laughed. Oh. Oh. That’s cute. Good lord. Oooh I am so gay.

“Nahh, you don’t deserve being fought. I’d totally duel someone if you wanted me to, though,” Paul said, and Henry simply could not contain himself.

“My brave knight!” he declared, hoping that Paul would still blame how exhausted he was for this ridiculous conversation.

“Sir Paul of…”

“Hatchetfield, of course, it’s where you hail from!” he was giggling, giddy, and so was Paul, their laughter filling the car.

“I guess it is, yeah. Hey- Professor, the only other room I have in my house is Alice’s, so-”

“Dooon’t you worry, I’ll sleep on the couch…” Henry replied, sighing into the seat cushion.

“No, that’s not what I was asking. What I was asking is- would it be alright if we shared a bed?”

Henry’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “Uh- Of course!”

“I figured, since, you’re- really paranoid-”

“True.”

“That you’d feel more comfortable, with someone else in the room with you. Plus, honestly, the heating’s been so off in my house that it’s best to have either five hundred blankets or someone else to share the warmth with,” Paul continued, reaching the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel to pat Henry’s arm.

“I suppose… you’re…” Henry shut his eyes again, drooping, and when they opened again he had returned to Paul’s arms. “Hmh?”

“Just bringing you upstairs, don’t worry,” Paul mumbled, putting the cookies down and Henry’s milk in his own fridge. He started up the stairs, hushing Alice as he passed, before pausing and peeking into her room. “Alice, bubby, it’s 1:30, get to bed. You can talk to Deb tomorrow,” he whispered, trying not to disturb Henry.

“Aw, fine, Dad. Why’s the professor in your arms?”

“Long story. Just get to bed. Love you.”

“You too!”

“...Tha’wa’cute,” Henry mumbled, resting his head on Paul’s shoulder. “You’re… good Dad.”

“I’m Good Dad? Is that a superhero name?”

“I don’t… fucking know, just,” Henry’s coherency was rapidly decreasing, and Paul laughed.

“Here, my bed,” he said, setting him down and taking his coat off for him. “Want pajamas, Professor?"

“Nn… nah... “

“Right. Well.” Paul pushed him lightly, making him flop back onto the bed, “I’m going to shower, I’ll be right back, OK?”

“Okay…” Henry rolled, suddenly aware that Paul had taken off his shoes for him. He smiled lightly, hearing his footsteps leave the room. He found it odd, what Paul said, considering it felt perfectly fine in the room now. He wasn’t about to complain though, curling up in the blankets like a professor burrito. Trying to tell how long it was before Paul re-entered was impossible, since he could barely comprehend anything at the moment, let alone time, but he soon heard his footsteps approaching again and opened his eyes. He had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, that- aha! “ Wicked, Paul?”

“Look, I saw it with Alice,” Paul replied, laughing and patting him. “Roll over a bit, I need to get in.” Henry rolled, letting Paul under the covers, and then nuzzled back next to him, smiling.

Perhaps it’s good I went to get milk so late, he thought to himself, and slowly drifted off. Paul’s steady breathing filled his ears and calmed him, and he was happy.