Pretending Hearts (O/O CLOSED)

Arvil leaned back against the back of the couch, sighing and closing his eyes. He’d been up since morning, but it wasn’t like it was anything new. There were too many things to look over, so many things to replace and update that he’d started the second he woke up. And now that he was full, sleep hit him full force.

And though he tried to fight it off, he still ended up losing to it.

Arvil shifted a little in his sleep, making his tall frame comfortable as he slept. It did feel a little hot and uncomfortable, considering how low he was leaning. Usually he fell asleep on the desk, which sometimes made his back ache, but it was still comfortable. Still, it wasn’t that made. What he was resting on was soft.

The door opened abruptly and a blue haired man poked his head in, a laptop in his hands.

“Sir! You have to check this ou—“ he stopped abruptly, eyes taking in the form of his sleeping boss on top of his fiancée.

The man winced, nodding in understanding. He immediately looked apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Davis,” he apologized profusely, though he kept his voice quiet. “I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t know he was asleep, too. I’m sorry! I uh—I’ll come back later. If you need anything, please call us!”

He was gone just like that, shutting the door behind himself carefully.

Arvil stirred, his eyes blinking open, hazy from sleep. The smell of vanilla reached his ears and Arvil inhaled deeply. Then confusion took over his senses. Vanilla? There was only one woman he knew who smelled like vanilla and she was—he closed his eyes again, exhaling. He pulled himself into a sitting position, unable to look at his fiancée. Fake fiancée.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, still drowsy, voice heavy and harsh from sleep. “How long was I out? You should have woken me up.”

Arvil leaned back against the couch, covering his mouth as a yawn broke through. He failed to notice how she refused to meet his gaze, instead running a hand through his hair.

“It still doesn’t excuse my behavior. I promised I wouldn’t touch you unnecessarily,” he murmured, eyes closed again. “At least it wasn’t for a longer time.”

“If you say so,” Arvil muttered, pulling himself to his feet. “Did anyone drop by while I was out?”

“Cam,” Arvil nodded, sitting back down on his own seat. “You can leave if you want to, you know. But stay if you’d like. I’m fine either way. You can leave the trash here, too.”

Arvil nodded, still a little sluggish from sleep. He really was exhausted, though that wasn’t a surprise. He really needed a proper life.

“Good,” he murmured, his face in his hands, eyes closed, nearly falling asleep again.

“I’m good,” Arvil blinked, stretching and running another hand through his hair. “I’ll sleep later. Unless you offer yourself as a pillow…?”

“If my fiancée wants that, then she’ll have it,” Arvil declared, standing up and walking toward her. He held out his hand for her to take when he was in front of her. “Maybe I’ll let you win this time.”

Arvil intertwined their fingers, leading her to the door. "Because you suck unbearably at it?"

Arvil let out a laugh, squeezing her hand tightly, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand. “Fair enough,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you win sometimes.”

Arvil looked down at her, smirking when he caught her warm cheeks. He bent down slightly. “Are my actions really that flustering, love?” He murmured, furrowing his eyebrows and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It’s not like I’m terrible at dartboard, love. Or dancing, or things that involve throwing balls. Definitely not terrible at all.”

“Warm. Right,” Arvil grinned as he opened the door and stepped outside. There were a few employers walking around, so he nodded at them. They greeted him in reply, as well as Daisy. “Do you know they keep the games that require throwing something on the other side of the room?”