Chapter Text
When they were so young that their voices hadn't started changing yet, Boyd spread the rumor that Soren didn't sleep. Maybe it couldn't even be called a rumor, considering how small their company was at the time. But it still spread, and soon the youngest members of the Greil Mercenaries would whisper to each other whenever they saw Soren retiring for the evening, wondering what he'd get up to, even going as far as to follow him to his room once and peeking under the door to see the flickering light of a candle and the muted sound of turning pages. Soren had noticed, of course, and he'd gotten angry, of course, but Ike hadn't missed the nervous crack to his voice, and the paranoid glances the mage would throw over his shoulder during the weeks following the incident. He had started looking even more tired after that, and the bags under his eyes became a permanent part of his anatomy.
Ike had been concerned. He had never seen Soren sleep, no one had, and Soren’s complete lack of self-preservation coupled with his tendency to obsessively drown himself in work had worried him—still worried him. But Soren had brushed off his concern and his suggestions to take a break from work, because that was Soren when he was young, tormented by his own blood and utterly convinced that he wasn't worth anyone’s attention or care. Ike prided himself on his resilience though, and he had kept asking, kept caring, until Soren had finally caved one night during their war against Begnion.
Ike was hiding in Soren’s tent, not because Aimee was chasing him around again—she had been doing that less and less these days, her interest seeming to have shifted into their increasingly charming staff officer—but because he needed some peace and quiet, some time away from the boisterous mix of laguz and mercenaries that kept barging into his tent to pester him about one thing or the other. Ike loved his friends, and he sometimes felt cruel for avoiding them, but Soren understood. Soren always understood.
And Ike wanted to understand as well. No matter how many heart-to-heart talks he had with his best friend, he found that he never knew enough. There was always something left to decipher, something left to explore. Maybe that was what made his relationship with Soren so engaging, and Ike was insatiable.
And Soren? After a bit of prodding, Soren always caved. So that one specific night, after being prompted, Soren shut his book, placed it on his desk, and flopped down on the cot, next to where Ike was laying.
“When we sleep we are at our most vulnerable,” he said while looking up at the ceiling of the tent. His voice was quiet, barely a murmur, a pleasant hum that Ike liked to listen to with his eyes closed. “I don't want people to find me like that. Anything could happen.”
Ike wanted to argue that nothing would happen, that they were surrounded by good people and that even if someone wanted to, they wouldn't dare to hurt Soren because everyone knew they'd have to face Ike and Titania’s rage. Maybe Mist’s too. Even Skrimir’s now. But Soren was Soren, and Soren didn't trust people. Soren was always scared, and Ike wanted to make him less scared. So he turned to lay on his side, propping his head up with a hand, and looked into those familiar red eyes.
“What about me?” He asked. “Would you be able to sleep around me?”
“I… suppose so,” Soren answered. His cheeks colored a little, and then he added, “It would be embarrassing though.”
“Why?” Ike asked. Soren shrugged, turning his head away, and Ike sat up to get a better view of Soren’s flushed face. “I bet you have a nice sleeping face.”
“Oh, shut up,” the mage said in a poor attempt to hide the fondness in his voice. “Anyway, even if I slept next to you, you wouldn't be able to see my sleeping face. You always wake up later than me.”
“Then take a nap,” Ike suggested, gently placing a hand on Soren’s chest and feeling his rapid heartbeat on his palm. “Right here. You look exhausted. I'll keep watch for you.”
Soren sucked in a sharp breath, and Ike felt the muscles of his chest moving with it.
“Why don't you take it, Commander?” he asked slowly. “You must be tired after today’s meeting.”
“Then we’ll take it together,” Ike said. When Soren pursed his lips and shook his head, Ike lightly pressed down on his chest. “Soren. Talk to me?”
“I…” Soren closed his eyes and inhaled sharply again. Ike stayed where he was, but gave his friend time. “If I… don't sleep. Or if I sleep as little as possible and busy myself until I collapse, then… I don't have to think.”
“Think?”
“I fall asleep as soon as I close my eyes, so my mind doesn't wander. I have dreamless sleep, so… no nightmares.”
“You have nightmares?” Ike asked.
“Don't you?” Soren countered. He often turned Ike’s questions around to avoid talking about himself. Ike was used to it, so he replied.
“I do. About my father.”
“I see.”
“Yours?” Ike asked after a beat of silence, starting the back and forth that he knew always worked when talking to Soren. He would ask, Soren would reply because he never denied Ike anything, and Ike would offer more information about himself so Soren would keep talking as well.
“About the time before I met you,” Soren replied.
“I also dream about losing you to the war,” Ike offered, and predictably, another answer came.
“I dream about being left behind.”
“You won't be,” Ike said. He didn’t mention how Soren would surely outlive him. Soren knew. They both did. “I want you by my side.”
“Thank you, but… how much will that last?”
“Forever.”
“Forever is a heavy word, Ike.”
“Then… For as long as I live.”
That was heavy too. They both knew that as well. Soren didn't argue, however, because that was what he wanted. Because Ike didn't let him believe he wasn't worth it, not anymore.
He stopped pressing down on Soren’s chest but kept his hand there, his thumb tracing slow circles on Soren’s thin inner shirt. The sage squirmed in his place, and Ike smiled.
“Ticklish?” he asked.
“No,” Soren lied. Ike’s smile widened.
“Sleep, Soren,” Ike whispered. “Your nightmares won't come true. I'll be right beside you.”
“I can't. Not yet.” He turned his head to fully look at Ike with an open, vulnerable gaze that made his chest warm. “Give me some time?”
His tone was imploring, the question said in a tiny voice that was far from the usual secure and steady tone of the tactician. Ike didn't hesitate, because Ike didn't mind waiting for Soren. He would always wait for him, because he was worth it, oh, so worth it.
“Of course,” he said. “I'll wait all you need.”
And so he did.