Work Text:
Parker groaned as he pushed open the front door, the ache already sinking deep into his bones like it was trying to fuse there for good. He dropped his bag with a dull thud, then stood there a moment, hunched slightly forward, just breathing.
“Rough day?” came Chance’s voice from the kitchen—warm, gentle, and laced with concern.
Parker didn’t answer right away. Just tugged his cap off, ran a hand through his slightly sweaty, messy hair, and exhaled. “You ever try to wrangle twenty hyper six-year-olds who’ve just discovered how to weaponize baseballs?” he muttered.
Chance stepped into the doorway, holding a glass of water. “Is that a rhetorical question, or…?”
That earned him a tired, crooked smile. Parker crossed the room slowly, clearly favoring his right side, and Chance’s brow furrowed the second he noticed the tightness in his walk. That familiar pinch at his lower back, the stiffness in his shoulders—telltale signs of a pain flare setting in.
“You didn’t take your meds this morning,” Chance said quietly, reaching out to touch his elbow.
“I forgot.” Parker leaned into him, just enough to accept help without saying the words. “Didn’t expect practice to turn into a full-contact sport.”
Chance let out a soft, nervous laugh. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve picked you up. Or made a heating pad fort or something.”
Parker sighed as he settled against him fully now, letting his weight rest there. “You’re already too good to me.”
Chance flushed a little but didn’t argue. He helped guide Parker toward the couch, easing him down with slow, practiced movements. As he reached for the throw blanket, Parker caught his wrist.
“You gonna keep hovering like a nervous boyfriend,” Parker teased gently, “or are you gonna sit here and let me look at you?”
Chance’s ears went pink. “I mean—technically I am your boyfriend, so.”
“Mhm. The nervous part’s cute.” Parker smirked, then winced slightly as he adjusted. “You’re doing that thing where you pace when you want to help but don’t know how.”
Chance stared, caught red-handed. “…I’m making you tea.”
He disappeared into the kitchen and Parker let his head fall back, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t used to people caring this much. Or noticing things. But Chance always did.
When Chance returned with the mug, he set it down carefully and knelt between Parker’s legs, hands resting lightly on his thighs. “Let me help?” he asked softly.
Parker blinked, the tenderness behind the words making his chest pull tight. “Help how?”
“I mean—stretching. Heating pad. Back rub. Carry you to bed like a dramatic knight rescuing his beloved—your call.”
That got a laugh out of Parker, rough but real. He reached up and touched Chance’s face, brushing his knuckles against his cheek. “You always get this flustered when I’m half dead from work?”
“Only when you look this good doing it,” Chance mumbled, clearly trying to joke, but his eyes were serious. His hands slid up to Parker’s hips, resting just under the hem of his shirt. “Just… want to make you feel good. However you need.”
Parker’s breath hitched at that, pain momentarily forgotten.
“Yeah?” he said, voice softer now. “Then start slow. I’ve got a whole day’s worth of knots you need to work out.”
Chance’s fingers curled just a little tighter, and he nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I got you.”
—
Chance disappeared for a moment, and Parker just breathed. The living room lights were dim, the room hazy with evening stillness, and even with the dull throb in his back and hips, something about the quiet made it easier to exist.
He heard the microwave hum, then the sound of drawers opening, soft footsteps on the hardwood. When Chance returned, he had a heating pad slung over his shoulder, a bottle of water tucked under his arm, toast in one hand, and a bottle of Parker’s prescription pain reliever in the other.
“You’re such a dork,” Parker mumbled, trying not to smile as Chance knelt down again in front of him.
“Say that after I fix your spine.” Chance smiled softly and uncapped the bottle. “You didn’t eat much today, so take one, not two. I made you toast. I used the good jam.”
“You’re gonna make me propose,” Parker murmured, taking the pill and water anyway.
Chance rolled his eyes but his face was red.
Once the toast was placed within reach, Chance pressed the warm pad to Parker’s lower back, and Parker let out a sharp breath, his whole body easing like it had been holding itself together with rubber bands. He slouched further into the couch, head tipping back against the cushions.
“You’re magic,” Parker mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.
Chance moved slow and deliberate, kneading Parker’s thighs first—not roughly, just grounding him, letting his palms sink in. When Parker shifted to give him better access, Chance’s breath caught just a little.
“You good?” Parker asked, his voice low, laced with something new.
Chance nodded too fast. “Yeah. You just always… make noises when something feels good. I’m learning your tells.”
Parker opened one eye, eyebrow raised. “You taking notes?”
Chance huffed a laugh. “Obviously.”
He worked his way up Parker’s back next, pushing up the back of his shirt just enough to feel the skin. His thumbs pressed carefully into the muscles along his spine, slow and rhythmic, and Parker exhaled a low, drawn-out sigh that went straight to Chance’s ears.
“This okay?” Chance asked, his voice quieter now.
“Mmhm. Better than okay.” Parker’s voice dropped, lower than before. “Your hands are strong. Who knew.”
Chance’s breath stuttered again. “I—I mean I lift books all day at the library, so.”
Parker chuckled, a raspy, flirtatious sound that sent heat crawling down Chance’s neck. “You blushing yet?”
Chance didn’t answer. He just kept his hands moving—along Parker’s sides, brushing just below his ribs now, his thumbs curling in just a little at the edges of his waist. Parker tensed under the touch, but not from pain—this was something else.
“You’re not just helping anymore,” Parker murmured, low and teasing.
“I—” Chance stopped, fingers pausing. “I didn’t mean to cross a line—”
“You didn’t,” Parker said, reaching down and covering Chance’s hand with his. “You’re doing perfect. Just… don’t stop.”
Chance looked up at him then, his eyes wide behind his glasses, pupils blown wide with something he hadn’t let himself name yet. His voice was nearly a whisper when he spoke next.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Baby,” Parker whispered, leaning down before Chance could even fully rise. “You always can.”
And when their mouths met—soft, slow, with every inch of pressure laced in that quiet care—it wasn’t about forgetting the pain. It was about feeling despite it.
It was the start of something that wasn’t just relief, but release.
⸻
They stayed like that for a while—lips brushing, breath mingling, fingers curled into shirts like they were scared to let go. But eventually, Chance pulled back just far enough to study him.
“You hurting too much?” he asked softly.
Parker gave a slow blink. “Not too much. Just enough to be lazy.”
Chance chuckled under his breath, brushing a knuckle along Parker’s jaw. “Do you want lazy?”
Parker let his head tip back against the couch, lips curved in that soft, dangerous little smirk. “No. I want you to take care of me. But I don’t wanna move.”
Chance swallowed. “So—”
“You’re gonna have to do all the work,” Parker murmured, voice low, words slow and teasing. “But I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
Chance froze like he’d just been hit with a charm spell.
Parker tilted his head, that smirk only growing. “You like that idea, don’t you?”
“I—uh—I—” Chance floundered, eyes darting from Parker’s face to his own hands, as if unsure what to do with them. “Yeah. I… yeah.”
“Good,” Parker said softly. “Because I’m not doing anything tonight except laying here, and letting you prove how good you are for me.”
Chance’s whole soul short-circuited.
He kissed Parker again, slower now, reverent. It was so obvious how badly he wanted to impress him, how every little gesture came from a place of wanting to worship, to help, to serve. He kissed along his jaw, down his neck, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of Parker’s shirt like he was touching something sacred.
“Clothes off?” he whispered.
Parker nodded, voice a quiet murmur. “Careful with my shoulders.”
Chance nodded quickly and helped ease him out of his shirt, movements slow, always checking for a wince. Once the shirt was off, Parker reclined back into the couch again, the softest little sigh escaping his lips.
“Good boy,” he said.
Chance whimpered.
Parker grinned.
“Take off yours too,” Parker said, voice low, lips still pink from kissing. “I wanna see all of you.”
Chance’s hands fumbled at his own shirt, cheeks blooming bright red. He looked like he’d been caught doing something scandalous—even though Parker was the one orchestrating every move. It made Parker grin, lazy and triumphant as he watched Chance shed his layers.
“I don’t know how you still get shy,” Parker murmured, eyes roaming. “You’re hot.”
Chance flushed deeper. “You’re not exactly making it easier.”
Parker just smirked and patted the cushion next to him. “Good. Come here.”
Chance obeyed instantly, crawling back over him, bracing himself with one arm so he didn’t lean too hard into Parker’s body.
And Chance did exactly what he was told
“Okay,” he breathed, eyes flicking between Parker’s mouth and his eyes. “What do you want?”
Parker hummed, like he was considering a very serious choice. “Kiss me first.”
Chance did exactly what he was told. It was soft, slow, like Parker was made of glass and Chance was made of nerves. Then Parker tilted his head, lips brushing against his ear. “Now… touch me. Where I tell you. How I tell you.”
Chance made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan. “Okay.”
“Start slow. Gentle. Use your hands first.”
He did. Soft brushes down Parker’s sides, fingertips ghosting over skin like he didn’t want to press too hard, didn’t want to startle a single nerve. Parker sighed under him, head tipped back, letting the couch hold his weight while Chance hovered over him like he was trying to memorize every inch.
“Lower,” Parker whispered. “There. Like that. Little slower.”
Chance’s breath hitched with every word.
“You’re such a good listener,” Parker murmured, voice warm and teasing. “Bet you’ve been wanting this.”
“I have,” Chance admitted, eyes fluttering closed. “You have no idea.”
Parker laughed softly. “Oh, I do. I know exactly what I’m doing to you.”
He caught Chance’s wrist and guided it lower, making contact with his swollen clit, his own breath catching when the contact made his body jolt just slightly. Chance froze, immediately looking for signs of pain, but Parker nodded quickly.
“I’m okay,” he breathed. “That’s good. That’s perfect. Just like that.”
And Chance kept going—thumbing over his clit, kissing at his neck, whispering apologies every time Parker winced, only to be pulled back in again, over and over, until it was Parker who was flushed and panting and whispering “Don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
It was clumsy in the way real things are. Careful. Hesitant. Filled with so much affection and built-up tension that it felt like the room could’ve caught fire from the heat between them.
Parker tugged him down for one last kiss, arching up just enough to press against him the way he needed.
“You’re perfect,” Parker murmured. “Now be a good boy and finish what you started.”
Chance’s whole body shivered. “O-Ok.”
Parker grabbed the back of Chances head, intertwining his fingers into his black hair before lightly guiding his head down. Taking the hint, Chance was quick to get to work. He peppered kisses all over Parker’s thighs, teasing before sliding his tongue into his clit. He moved his tongue quickly, enjoying all the sounds that he drove from Parker.
“Babe… baby—I need your fingers, please,” Parker whined from above him. Listening, Chance pushed 2 fingers into Parker’s vagina, resulting in a loud whine. Chance felt his own clit throb, begging to be touched, but tonight was about Parker.
He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of Parker, withering over how his hole clenched around him.
He started to both quicken his pace with his tongue, while also curling his fingers up on each thrust, knowing his lover well enough to know he wouldn’t last like this.
As if on cue, Parker's thighs clenched around Chance’s head as he came on his face, riding out his orgasm on his tongue.
⸻
Afterward, Chance didn’t move right away. He stayed close, arms braced around Parker, forehead resting against his thigh. Their skin was warm and damp, breaths shallow and tangled together. Parker was still catching his breath, eyes half-lidded and mouth parted in a dazed smile.
“Holy shit,” he murmured.
Chance laughed softly—half relief, half overwhelmed wonder. “Yeah.”
A pause. Then Parker whispered, “You okay?”
Chance pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Me? Are you okay?”
Parker blinked. “I mean, yeah. Little sore, not bad. Worth it.”
Chance made a soft noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re gonna be so sore tomorrow.”
“Coach battle scars,” Parker grinned.
But Chance was already shifting, standing up carefully and pulling the blanket back over Parker. “I’m running you a bath.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Chance leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You always take care of me. Let me do this.”
Parker didn’t argue again.
He listened to Chance padding into the bathroom, heard the creak of the faucet and the faint clink of bath supplies. When Chance returned, he had that determined, flustered look again—eyes on the floor, ears burning red. Without a word, he scooped Parker up, and Parker yelped, arms flinging around his neck.
“Chance!”
“I said I was taking care of you.”
“You’re such a dork.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Chance just grinned and kissed his cheek before carrying him into the bathroom.
The tub was already steaming gently, water perfumed with something subtle and soothing—lavender and chamomile, maybe. There were even two candles flickering on the counter. Parker blinked.
“You went all out.”
“I didn’t know if you’d want bubbles,” Chance mumbled. “So I skipped those.”
“You romantic little freak.”
Chance helped him ease into the water, waiting until Parker sighed and melted back before finally slipping in behind him. The tub was a little cramped for both of them, but neither of them minded. Parker’s back fit against Chance’s chest like they were made for it.
Chance’s hands moved without thinking—over Parker’s arms, up to his shoulders, thumbs working gentle circles into every tight muscle.
Parker let out a soft sound. “God, you’re good at that.”
“Practice,” Chance whispered, kissing the back of his neck. “You carry too much tension.”
Parker hummed, leaning fully into him, letting the warmth and touch lull him.
“You’re perfect,” Chance said, barely audible.
Parker smiled. “You’re such a sap after sex.”
“You say that like it’s new.”
“Yeah,” Parker murmured. “And I love it.”
Chance tightened his arms around him, holding him close as the steam curled around them like a blanket. Their skin flushed, their fingers laced under the water, and the only sound was soft breathing, slow heartbeats, and water lapping gently around them.
It wasn’t about the sex anymore. It was the bath. The closeness. The way Chance would whisper, “Tell me if anything hurts,” every time he shifted. The way Parker would hum and lean back, eyes fluttering closed, trusting him completely.
It was everything Parker needed at the end of a long, aching day.
And it was everything Chance wanted—to take care of the person he loved, with every touch, every word, every kiss.
⸻
Next Morning
The first thing Parker felt was warmth.
Not pain. Not tight joints or the dull ache in his back—though those were still there, lingering quietly like background static—but warmth. The comforting kind. The held all night kind.
Chance was still asleep beside him, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm, his arms cocooned around Parker’s middle. His face was smushed against Parker’s neck, glasses nowhere in sight, and his hair stuck up in a dozen different directions.
Parker didn’t move. Didn’t want to.
He just… took it in.
The weight of Chance’s arm over his waist. The soft inhale against his collarbone. The way Chance always twitched a little when he was dreaming.
Safe. So goddamn safe.
After a few minutes, Chance shifted with a sleepy groan, nose wrinkling. His voice came out muffled and adorably scratchy. “Mm… ‘s it time to go to work already?”
“Nope,” Parker whispered. “Saturday.”
Chance froze. “Oh thank god.”
Parker grinned and leaned back into him. “You got the whole day to keep being my personal heating pad.”
A low chuckle rumbled in Chance’s chest. “That your way of asking for another back rub?”
“That’s my way of saying I might die if you ever stop spoiling me.”
Chance finally opened one eye, looking at him with the dumbest, drowsiest smile. “Never gonna stop. You’re my man. I got you.”
Parker felt his heart thud. Every single time.
“I love waking up with you,” he said softly, eyes searching Chance’s face.
“I love you,” Chance replied, still sleep-groggy but dead serious. “Even when you snore.”
“I don’t snore.”
“You do. It’s cute though. Like a little gremlin kitten.”
Parker gasped dramatically. “Take it back.”
“Never.”
They ended up tangled together again, laughing into kisses and sleepy pillow talk. Eventually, Chance dragged himself up to make breakfast—still shirtless, hair wild, yawning into the crook of his elbow—and Parker stayed bundled on the couch, shouting things like “extra cinnamon or I’m divorcing you!” while Chance cooked with the door cracked open between them.
It was soft. Domestic. Familiar in a way neither of them had ever really known, but both had desperately needed.
And when Chance brought over a plate of French toast and climbed back under the blanket, pressing a kiss to Parker’s temple, Parker knew:
This was the kind of morning he’d never stop dreaming about.
⸻
Evening — D&D & Chill with the Crew
The living room was a mess of dice, character sheets, and half-eaten snacks. Chance, Parker, Hector, Jerry, Mac, and Dasha were sprawled across bean bags and couches, the glow of fairy lights casting a warm haze over everything.
Chance was the DM tonight, but the usual intensity was softened by the afterglow of his morning with Parker. His voice was a little lighter, his jokes a little goofier, and his occasional glances toward Parker were full of fondness.
Parker sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning into Chance’s side, fingers occasionally brushing his thigh under the table—a quiet reminder of the connection between their worlds.
“Alright,” Chance said, clearing his throat, “Your party approaches the dark forest of Eldergloom. The trees whisper secrets, and the air is thick with magic. What do you do?”
Mac grinned, adjusting their rainbow glasses. “I’m checking for traps. Again.”
Jerry laughed. “You’re the trap finder, Mac. We trust you.”
Hector, clutching a dice, looked nervous but determined. “I cast light. Bright light to see through the darkness.”
Dasha, ever the stoic mom friend, nodded approvingly. “Smart move.”
Chance smiled, narrating the scene with a little flair. “The light cuts through the shadows, revealing twisted roots and glowing mushrooms. Suddenly, a pair of glowing eyes stare back at you.”
Parker’s hand found Chance’s under the table, fingers intertwining just briefly. “I ready my bow. No surprises.”
Chance’s eyes twinkled. “Always prepared. Love that.”
The group chuckled, rolling dice and diving into their story. Between battles and banter, Parker whispered low to Chance, “You’re the best DM.”
⸻
The D&D game had wrapped up hours ago, but the warmth lingered in the air. The group had slowly filtered out—that left Chance and Parker alone in the softly lit living room, the dim glow of the fairy lights casting gentle shadows.
Parker stretched, rubbing at his lower back where the usual ache still hummed softly but wasn’t flaring. He looked over at Chance, who was sitting on the couch with his knees pulled close, hands nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“Hey,” Parker said low, voice a little huskier than usual. “I’m feeling better than earlier. Think I can… take care of you tonight?”
Chance blinked, caught off guard by the sudden boldness. “Uh, yeah, sure. You wanna… lead?”
Parker grinned, the sparkle in his eyes making Chance’s heart race. “Mhm. You’ve been so good taking care of me. Let me return the favor.”
Parker slid over and curled up beside Chance, brushing a soft hand along his jaw. The gentle touch sent shivers down Chance’s spine.
“Relax,” Parker murmured, “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”
Chance swallowed, the nerves melting into a slow-burning heat. Parker’s hands traced slow, purposeful patterns—nothing rushed, everything deliberate. Chance leaned into him, their breaths mingling.
When Parker’s tongue found the sensitive spot just behind Chance’s ear, Chance’s breath hitched.
“Feels good?” Parker teased, voice thick with affection.
Chance nodded, voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. Feels… perfect.”
”Good.” Was all Parker said, before jumping right in. “Do you want me to fuck you with the strap baby?”
—
Chance was not able to walk after that.