⋆.˚ Warnings: swearing, verbal fight, drunk rafe, crying reader (read at own caution
Rafe chuckles under his breath as he stumbles across the hall, unsteady from the alcohol. He’d have too many drinks tonight- his gaze unfocused, legs ready to give up, mind spinning in a blur of noise and lights from the party he’d just left behind.
None of his friends were sober enough to drive, so he called a cab, barely managing to not throw up in there.
“Baby! I missed you,” He yells, a drunk smile tugging at his lips as he approaches the doorway of his bedroom.
No response. Which, is normal, since, its… four in the morning.
Rafe lets out a laugh, more to himself, as he stops at your vanity table, lazily taking off his watch. For a few seconds, the sound of the metal clicking against the wooden surface is the only thing filling the space.
He shuffles a little closer to the bed, ready to collapse in beside you, but then he sees it. Even through his clouded senses, he knows- you’re not in bed.
His brow furrows, confusion starting to emerge.
A knot tightens in his stomach. Where are you?
“Babe?” Rafe yells louder this time.
He pauses, listening, but the house is eerily quiet.
His drunken state finally catches up with him, and something clicks in his foggy mind. He blinks, squinting toward the bathroom door.
Rafe's stomach lurches again, and his eyes widen as he realizes the small detail that his alcohol-fogged brain hadn’t processed before. He would’ve noticed the moment he walked in, if not for the haze clouding his thoughts.
Without thinking, he pushes the bathroom door open with a bit more force than necessary. Other than the harsh, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the room is still—too still.
Sitting near the bathtub, your legs curled in tight to your chest, hands gripping your knees so hard your knuckles are white. Your face is buried in your arms, and your body trembles with a slow rhythm.
Rafe freezes in the doorway, the realization slowly coming in; you’ve had a nightmare.
His feet feel heavy as he steps into the bathroom, his body moving on autopilot towards you.
The alcohol clouds his mind, but something deep inside knows what to do- what you need.
But… will it translate well?
Rafe flops down beside you, and you don’t look up at first.
He reaches out, his hand tugging gently on the hem of your shorts, to get your attention.
His voice, though slurred by the alcohol, carries warmth and softness. “Fuck- baby… what’s- what’s wrong?" he asks, the smile he tries to offer shaky and uncertain.
You don’t answer right away, and there’s a look in your eyes, like you’re stuck between worlds- the nightmare and the waking world, each pulling you in different directions.
Rafe has seen you like this before; panicked from a nightmare, to the point where it consumes you physically.
Now, he’s usually sober to deal with it- to help you find your way back. He’s used to taking control of the situation, grounding you with his presence. But tonight, everything’s off-balanced.
He shifts, leaning into your shoulder, letting his weight fall against you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, feeling the warmth of your body against his.
It’s dead silent for a moment;
Your words snap him out of his half-sleep, and he blinks.
His eyes are barely open, his head still resting on your shoulder.
“Where were you, Rafe?” you repeat.
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first.
The warmth of your skin against his, the rhythmic sound of your breath, almost lulls him back into slumber, but then your voice breaks through again.
Your voice cracks, almost like you’re holding back a cry.
“I'm right here, aren’t- aren’t I, baby?” His voice, you can tell he’s too far gone, his words slow, barely making sense as he shifts closer to you, arms leaning in like he’s trying to wrap himself around you.
But it doesn’t feel right.
“No- no, Rafe, get away from me,” you suddenly move a few inches away, causing his head to slip off your shoulder with a soft thud.
Rafe mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, feeling disoriented, and shifts, trying to sit up, but his body feels heavy, uncoordinated.
It’s a few seconds before Rafe tries again, his hand reaching out to touch the flesh of your thigh.
“Y/n, shit, what’s wrong?”
“I’m right here. Talk to me.”
“You’re barely awake,” you say instead, a sniffle following after.
He squints his eyes at you, trying to read your face, but everything in his vision feels like it’s moving too fast, too slow- he can’t pin it down.
“I’m here,” he says again, though this time it sounds more like a question than a statement.
“You’re not,” you let out a sad laugh, the sound barely escaping your lips, “you’re not.”
His brows furrow deeper, and a flash of frustration flows through him. The words come out before he can stop them, “fuck you mean?”
Rafe can see the way you flinch- surprised by the sudden change of tone.
“You’re drunk. I don’t- I don’t want to talk to you like this,” you say, your voice strained.
He knows you’re right. He’s drunk. He can feel the weight of it in his head, in the way his words are coming out wrong.
“Maybe,” he murmurs, his voice rough and slow, “…but talk to me. I’m listening. Swear- ”
"…just tell me what’s wrong," he coos, the hand grazing your thigh giving it a soft squeeze.
“No, Rafe,” you interrupt, the sharpness stopping him in his tracks. You say his name like it’s final, like you’ve already made up your mind, and it stings more than anything he’s felt tonight.
He pauses, his breath catching in his chest. Somehow, he’s sober enough to know he might’ve crossed a line. Yet, he’s drunk enough to not acknowledge it.
Rafe pulls his hand away, frustratingly running it through it hair.
He shakes his head, like he’s disagreeing with you.
“Just- you're crying, and fuck- sitting here, all fucked up and shit. Tell me what’s wrong, c’mon.”
Rafe watches the way your teary, red eyes dance across his features, almost as if searching for something in him.
And then you speak, your voice breaking just slightly, "I’ll tell you when you can make out a full sentence.”
“What? What’s that suppose to mean-”
“I don’t want you when you’re drunk,” you cut him off, your voice tight with frustration and hurt. “I don’t want you like this,” you repeat, quieter now.
“‘Like this’? Jeez, can’t a man party-“ Rafe mumbles, his words slurring together as the alcohol still weighs heavily on him.
“I called you- the whole night!” The sudden high-pitched tone of your voice serves as a reminder that this might be escalating into something more than just a misunderstanding.
Before he can even respond, you abruptly stand up, the movement so sudden that it sends a jolt of panic through him. His heart races, and for a second, he just watches, stunned, as you distance yourself from him.
He yells after you, body sloppy as he stands up. His hand reaches for the bathroom doorframe to steady himself, "y/n, where you going?”
He watches helplessly as you collect your bags and jacket, the movement sharp and quick, like you’re ready to escape.
"I'm going home," you say. It stabs at him, and for a second, all he can do is stare at you, disbelieving.
“Fuck you mean?” He stumbles towards you, his voice thick with confusion and panic. "this is your home, y/n.”
Rafe licks his lips, frustrated as he watches you pack up.
His hand tugs whatever’s in your hand away, trying to drag your wrist back toward him, towards the bed.
"Stop doing that. Just get in bed, I’ll hug you, or whatever, talk to you-“
“Alright, then what you want? Tell me-“
Rafe licks his lips, a dry, humorless laugh escaping him.
“You know I don’t like repeating myself," he mutters, his gaze narrowing slightly.
He gives your wrist a tight squeeze, leaning in close to you. His eyes, fogged by the alcohol, flicker down to the pout on your lips- helpless, but trying to look tough.
Rafe’s a sucker for you; even more so now that he’s drunk.
The shift is almost imperceptible, but it's there.
“You wanna go home? Sure. I’ll drive you. When I’m- I’m all sober.”
“That’ll take you forever,” you say, “I’ll go by myself.”
He winces, the idea of you walking out- alone- killing him.
“Fuck- forget it. You’re not going home. This is your home.”
His hand grips your wrist tighter, almost desperately, like he's trying to keep you from slipping through his fingers.
You whimper, and the sound cuts through him like a knife. The tears that follow fall down your cheeks, slowly, like a beautiful sad montage from a movie.
"Don’t you get it?" you choke out, your voice trembling, "I don’t want to be here. Be around you right now.”
And just like that, everything inside him freezes.
Rafe’s hand falls away from you, his brows furrowing.
"It's four a.m- I’ve called you all night. I needed you. I needed you and where were you? Drunk, high, I don’t know…"
Rafe’s mouth is opened ajar, chest tightening as he listens to how hurt you are. He’s fucked up, he knows, and now the consequences are crashing down on him.
"I'm scared, Rafe. I know it's stupid, but I'm scared, Rafe.”
Your hand comes up, wiping the tears away, but they keep falling, stubbornly, as if your heart just can’t catch up to your mind. The way your fingers tremble, the quiet sobs that escape you- Rafe feels like he's shattering with every breath you take.
“And I know it’s not your fault- but at least, just, I don’t know. I hate how you’re drunk right now. I hate how- how I’m crying, I hate how much I need you, rely on you-“
Your words are cut off when Rafe pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly as if he could absorb all your pain, all your fear, just by holding you.
The sudden closeness of him- the warmth, the scent of alcohol mixed with his familiar presence- makes your body tremble even harder, but this time it's not just fear. It’s everything. It’s the vulnerability. The relief. The frustration.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just holding you as his own breath hitches, feeling the way your body shakes against his.
His hands stroke your back, trying to soothe you, to comfort you, but he knows it’s not enough. He knows this isn't fixed by just a hug.
“I’m here. I’m here- I got you,” he whispers in your ear, feeling your hands ball into fists on his shirt.
“I’m scared, Rafe,” you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled.
“I know, baby. I know,” he coos, his voice hoarse with the mix of guilt and desperation.
You cry into his chest, the wetness of your tears soaking through his shirt.
Rafe's eyes flutter shut, the weight of the situation hitting him harder than the alcohol ever could. He tightens his grip around you, trying to offer what little comfort he can. He holds you longer than usual, unwilling to let go just yet.
Between your sobs, you manage to say, “you smell.”
He lets out a shaky laugh, “no shit.”
And then he feels it- your hand landing on his side, the playful hit landing softer than it usually would.
“…Let go of me, Rafe," you whisper, your voice soft but clear.
For a moment, Rafe doesn’t move. He stays there, his arms still wrapped tightly around you, his thumb tracing circles on your back.
Then, as if answering his own unspoken fears, you add quietly, "I’m not going anywhere, Rafe.”
He lets go reluctantly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if afraid you might slip away.
You give him a forced smile behind those cried-out eyes of yours, "wanna take a shower?" you ask.
He lets out a tired chuckle, "I can barely keep my eyes open, babe.”
You tease him, a playful pout forming on your lips. “…I don’t wanna sleep with stinky Rafe.”
His eyes widen a bit, caught off guard by your shift in tone- how quickly you went from crying to being… well, cute? He can’t help but feel flustered at the sudden change, and despite everything, it makes him smile a little.
“Alright, alright,” he murmurs, grabbing your hand gently, his grip a little unsure but steady. “but you’re, you’re helping me.”
“Of course,” you reply, ready to guide him to the bathroom. But just as you're about to move, Rafe suddenly pulls you back, a serious look in his gaze behind the tired, alcohol haze.
“But you gotta tell me about your dream… what’s got you crying, alright?” he says, his voice dropping low.
You tilt your head, studying his face as you consider his words. Then, you say, "don’t fall asleep, okay?”
“Then keep me awake, talk to me, touch me, whatever,” he mutters, though his eyelids are still heavy. He wants to listen, to be there for you, even if his body is fighting to stay awake.
You reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead, your touch light. “Okay,” you whisper, “I’ll keep you awake.”
Just like that, Rafe’s being pulled back toward the bathroom, his body mostly leaned against you for support. His legs are unsteady, and he’s still half-dazed from the alcohol, but he doesn’t fight you as you guide him forward.
A shower might sober him up anyways.
Besides, you’re not crying, you’re off the floor, and you’re not trembling anymore.
As you start to strip down, Rafe’s gaze follows you.
He stands there quietly, his tired eyes tracing the lines of your figure, the way you carry yourself, despite being tired and scared on the inside.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough, guilt washing over him.
You finish taking the last piece of clothing off, walking towards him, hands reaching for his shirt, “it’s okay.”
“It’s not-“ the shirt goes over his head, “y’know I’m better. Sober, I mean.”
You meet his eyes, and in that moment, Rafe can see the calmness in them. It’s subtle, but it’s there- like you’ve already started to find your ground again, even if he hasn’t.
“I know you are,” you say, "you’re here now. That’s all I need.”
Rafe nods slowly, a breath escaping him, your words a relief to the storm inside of his mind.
“And y’know- y’know this is your home.”
“Then don’t- don’t ever say that shit, ever again,” the way he says it, it’s almost like a threat.
“…don’t give me the chance to.”
“I won’t,” Rafe says, assurance in his tone.
You help him undo this belt, the material dropping to the floor with a hard thud. Rafe shrugs his pants off, so now the both of you are naked.
Hand in hand, you guide him into the shower, the sound of the water running softly as the steam starts to fill the room.
The warmth of it envelops you both, washing away the tension, the fear, the misunderstandings.
Rafe pulls you closer once inside, and you lean into him, resting your head on his chest as the water cascades down around you.
For now, it’s just the two of you- no more words, no more fears, just the comfort of being together.
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took a long break bc i got busy! yall miss me???
btw i have like ten identical nightmare- type requests in my inbox. all remotely similar T_T
