Chapter Text
The only thing Warren could hear was rumbling as the wheels of the taxi passed over uneven, New York streets. It was dark outside, and despite the bright lights zooming past the window, it was freezing. The car had little insulation, either, so Warren’s cold-blooded body could only grip at his thin jacket.
He was seated on Hypno’s lap, with a seatbelt crossing uncomfortably near his neck. The unicorn booster seat he normally used for car rides was destroyed in his last car chase with the turtles. He really had meant to replace it, but with all of the Armaggeddon and aliens happening, he just ended up putting it off for a while. He didn’t expect to need one anytime soon (Hypno generally handled grocery shopping and the like).
He certainly didn’t expect to get evicted anytime soon, either.
No, when the slip arrived at the pair’s doorstep, they were caught by surprise. They probably shouldn’t have been, considering how often they would skip on bills or rent, but nonetheless, they found themselves scurrying to collect their few belongings into meager suitcases and looking for a temporary living space.
Warren’s refusal to take the offer on some… Airbnb in the sewers (of which Hypno was actually quite passionate about how nice it seemed advertised on the stained flier), posted by a fellow named “Michael Angel”, led the two to turn to some motel near a discount furniture store they frequented.
They both simply sat in their seat limply. Silence filled the car, both of the passengers being far too tired for conversation, and the driver choosing not to say a word. He was relievingly unconcerned with the fact that he had a mutant hippo and worm in his taxi, or at least chose not to question either about it. Neither really wanted to have to answer.
Their bags were left in the back of the trunk, Warren’s being quite large despite his lack of items and Hypno’s being quite small despite fitting every single piece of his magic act into it, along with his living essentials. He’d told Warren offhandedly that it was a mystic magician’s trick, not giving much explanation. Warren knew he got a kick out of the mysterious showmanship, and, to be fair, it was pretty impressive. Other than that, Warren’s bust (his most prized possession) had been personally buckled into the seat next to them, and was taking the ride just as well as anyone.
The ride was short and uneventful, save Warren accidentally, inexplicably tangling his body in the polyester of the seatbelt. Hypno managed a “reverse escape artist” trick and got the worm out in about one piece, giving him a bit of a sheepish grin and a pat on the back, while the two (Hypno) retrieved their luggage. Strange – Hypno looked just as tired as either of them felt, with his suit all rumpled and cummerbund hanging a bit too loosely around his waist, but he was as cheerful as ever. At least, he was trying to be. His quiet tone lacked just enough energy, as to betray the sort of persona Warren thought he was trying to put on for them. Of course Hypno would try to play the supportive best friend, especially in a crisis like this. He always did.
The character cracked as soon as he entered their dingy motel room, the springy bed creaking under his weight as he instantly threw himself onto it with a muffled groan. Warren, instead, took to shoving the suitcases Hypno had haphazardly thrown on the floor, trying to get them against the wall, for a sense of order and beauty in such a place like this.
Sure, Warren’s apartment wasn’t that great. It was the best thing he could afford on his past fortune and the occasional bank heist! But, at least the paint stuck to the walls and there were less than 3 bugs in any given room.
This place smelled like an uncertain musk (Warren wasn’t sure he wanted to place it) that someone tried to overrun with cheap, lemony cleaning products. It didn’t work.
It was incredibly barebones, which is what would be expected for something that could be afforded off of the pair’s life savings, with minimal decoration and furniture. Anything there was, was tacky. Even by Warren’s standards.
An old, cracked, mosaic lamp leaned over a probably cockroach-infested bedside table. A small TV hung on the opposite wall, accompanied by frames of horse pictures. They still had the stock image watermark plastered all over them. In the center of the little room was a bed.
One bed.
It was a queen that looked like it was definitely on its last legs, and Hypno’s still body took up about 75% of it. Warren hauled himself up the side of the bedside table and apprehensively poked a splayed out arm. Normally, Warren had a small baby doll’s bed that he could sleep on, while Hypno could use the one that used to be Warren’s when he was a human. They shared a room, as roomies tend to do, but they never… slept in the same bed.
And with how complicated their relationship (and Warren’s feelings) had become, Warren wasn’t sure if he wanted to start now. At least, not without asking Hypno about it first.
“Hypno,” he whispered.
As he didn’t respond to Warren’s gentler nudges, Warren began to shake him with every piece of strength within his body (which wasn’t much, but it was enough for a reaction).
“ Hypno. ”
Hypno swatted his arm with another groan.
“Urgh… What is it?”
He closed his eyes tighter and shifted slightly.
“Hypno, there’s only one bed.”
“You’re a worm, Warren. You’re, like, one foot tall. You can fit.”
“Oh- no, it’s not that- I wasn’t sure if you were okay with it, and y’know, I was-”
Warren’s half-asleep, barely coherent ramble was interrupted by being picked up, Warren’s abdomen making a sound reminiscent of a squeaky toy, as Hypno rolled over and held him close on the other side of the bed.
“...just go t’sleep…”
Warren’s face went red hot as his shock made his head feel a bit fuzzy. He held one of Hypno’s large fingers with both of his tiny hands, shifting a little in his grasp. It was surprisingly gentle, but Hypno always was very careful when carrying the worm around. …so why wouldn’t it be any different with… cuddling?? Warren wasn’t really sure what this was.
He liked it, though.
Exhaustion got the better of him, and despite the drafty state of the motel room, he began to feel very warm. Maybe it was just the warm chest he was held against, the soft heartbeat he could hear, or the sheer sense of tiredness after the night’s escapades, but he relaxed in just a few moments, prior embarrassment drifting to the back of his mind. He felt his body go limp.
The pair fell asleep quickly, both still fully clothed and on top of the blankets. But they were comfortable, together.
Warren woke up with a definite crook in his neck, but he felt surprisingly relaxed and refreshed. He hadn’t expected much from a motel bed that he’d sworn seeing a bug or two crawl out of. Somehow, though, he was feeling pretty great, although a bit cold, like he was missing something…
He sat up, finding another crook in his back, and rubbed his eyes. Momentarily, he failed to recognize the beige room he was in, but soon began to quietly remember the night prior.
Right, eviction, cab, motel, and then…
“Mornin’, Warren!” Hypno said, face bright and smiling. He closed the door behind him, holding some plastic bags with, presumably, breakfast in them.
“Oh, uh, good morning.”
In an attempt to appear casual, Warren stretched, cracking nonexistent bones. He felt the pressure of embarrassment and tension heavy on his chest, but did everything he could to appear casual as his “friend” placed styrofoam boxes on the table next to him.
It didn’t work, Hypno’s expression shifting, becoming a bit tight. Warren sensed he felt it too, but was doing what he could to hide it, making some unconvincing light conversation.
It eventually dwindled down.
“Listen, Warren, about last night– I was exhausted, and not really thinking– I can’t even really remember it right now! But, you know, I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s… fine. Don’t worry about it. You’re fine. We’ll just have to be more, um, conscious about our room choices, next time.”
Neither really wanted to say anything else, nor confront the strange feelings that were definitely brewing. Warren ran a cocky hand through his hair (which really needed a brush), and Hypno stared at his lap in guilt.
It took only a few seconds for the latter to totally shift gears, snapping his head up and suddenly speaking with a much brighter tone of voice. Apparently, they were over it now.
“Anyways, what were you thinking about the whole housing situation? I kinda glanced at some advertisements earlier this morning, but couldn’t find anything that caught my eye.”
“Oh, right, that. I was scouting some townhouses in LA, actually–”
“We do not have the money for Californian housing.”
“Well, I didn’t see you with any better ideas, Mr. We Only Have $500 Between the Two of Us in the Bank Account ,” Warren huffed, dramatically throwing his body into the pillow.
“The problem is that we simply haven’t any budget, nor a reliable source of income.”
The two were silent for a moment, Warren sulking over his ridgeline 1.6K sqft coastal mansion, and Hypno holding a hand over his mouth in contemplation.
“Wait a minute. Hey, Hypno?”
“What?”
“We rob banks.”
2 days, 3 hold-ups, and 4 hostage situations later, the best friends/partners/roomies/it’s especially complicated sat in their old apartment. The two dearly missed the tattered couch and floral perfume that was seemingly impossible to get out of the carpets. Very little was moved, considering they were gone for such a short amount of time, and it was easy to put things back where they went.
All was well, once more, after that “little escapade”, as Hypno liked to call it. Things all went back to normal, with the apartment back and the regular routine back in place.
Well, all was normal, except the two could find themselves curled up together quite frequently, whether on the couch, bed, or floor (on a particularly bad day). Neither said anything about it, but it certainly became a welcomed occurrence.