Oh no. No alcohol means angst. This must definitely have been a Spicyhoney prompt since both you and @rhodyskele95​ requested it. I hope you like it! Thank you for sending in a request!

Warnings: brief discussion of death, mild feelings of inadequacy, basically just sad angsty stuff

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Edge released a weary sigh as he
fumbled slightly with the keys in the front door. It had been a long day—a very long, tiresome day. His patrols
were becoming more and more demanding with the rising dissent between the
public and the Crown. Trying to shake off any lingering thoughts of work, Edge
pushed open the door, making sure to lock it behind him before discarding his
keys and pulling off his armour.

His gaze fell on the living room
sofa, and his soul immediately warmed. His husband, Stretch, was sprawled
across it, fast asleep, the TV still playing in front of him. Edge was grateful
that he’d tried to wait up for him, but he knew the lazier skeleton often
lacked the stamina required for long nights.

Not bothering to fight back the
small smile that curled the corners of his mouth, Edge flicked the TV off,
before gently lifting Stretch from the sofa and carrying him upstairs. The way
Stretch almost immediately reacted to his touch, curling against him, rapidly
sped up the process of wiping the troubles of Edge’s job from his mind.

Despite being married, it was
seldom that Edge and Stretch got to spend much time together. After many fights
and long arguments, they’d come to the (somewhat reluctant, on Stretch’s part)
agreement that it would be far too dangerous for Stretch to come live with Edge
here. And Edge refused to abandon his brother in a place like this. So, they
lived in their separate worlds. It was difficult, but having Stretch stay the
occasional night like this was a welcome relief from the everyday burdens of the
world outside.

After gently placing Stretch
beneath the covers of their (mostly) shared bed, Edge quickly changed, before joining
Stretch in the cozy warmth of the sheets. Pressing his chest against Stretch’s
back, and wrapping his arms tightly around him, Edge closed his eyes, more than
ready to fall asleep and forget the day.

His plans were immediately halted
when he felt Stretch stir in his arms, shuffling slightly and turning his head
to look at Edge. “you came home,” Stretch murmured, groggily.

Edge nodded, pressing a light
skeleton kiss to the back of his neck. “Of course I did. Now go back to sleep.”

Stretch hummed quietly, shifting
so that their bodies were pressed closer together. “thank you,” he whispered. A
small prickle of sorrow settled in Edge’s soul. He knew how much Stretch hated
it when he left, day after day, never knowing what state he would return in (if
he returned at all). For months, he’d tried to convince Edge to come and live
with him, but it had been a futile argument. Edge would never leave his
brother—or his world for that matter.

But, rather than acknowledge the
somber mood, Edge simply nodded, before allowing his eyes to fall closed again.
However, for the second time that night, Stretch shifted, turning all the way
round this time to face Edge, who sighed, feeling tired. “I assume sleep isn’t
on the agenda for tonight?” he asked, raising a brow bone. Stretch smirked, but
Edge could tell that it was forced—something was clearly bothering him.
“Alright, what is it?” he asked, giving Stretch a steady look.

Stretch shook his head, chuckling
weakly. “i think you’re supposed to ask me about the matter baby.”

Edge narrowed his eye sockets,
scrutinising the faint smirk on Stretch’s face. “The… matter baby?”

“nothing. what’s the matter
with—wait.”

Edge chuckled, cupping Stretch’s
face. “Nyeh heh. I’ve known you too long to fall into weak traps like that,” he
said, and Stretch rolled his eyes, pouting slightly.

“well. fuck me.”

Edge observed Stretch dubiously.
“Fuck me? That’s the best you can do?”

Stretch grinned. “i can do a lot
better than just fuck you, edgelord, you know that.”

Edge held Stretch’s gaze for a
moment, completely deadpan. Then he sighed, taking one of Stretch’s hands
beneath the covers. “I know you’re trying to avoid my question. Tell me, what’s
bothering you?”

Stretch shook his head, eyes
flickering away from Edge. “it’s nothing. don’t worry about it.”

Edge knew he was the last person to
be critical about not opening up, but he also knew it would do no good to
ignore this. Stretch wasn’t quite as subtle as Edge was when it came to hiding
his emotions—his preferred mode of deflection being poor attempts at joking.
So, gently lifting Stretch’s fingers to his teeth, and placing a small kiss on
the back of them, he said, “We’re supposed to be honest with each other, you
know.”

Stretch sighed, sounding
resigned. “okay, you want honesty? so, be honest with me for a minute. do you
like me?”

Edge regarded Stretch with bemusement.
“We’re married, Stretch. I think my feelings on the matter are pretty clear.”
Edge’s tone was sarcastic, but the lack of humour in Stretch’s eyes was
disconcerting.

“shit, edge, um…” Stretch was
suddenly looking very uncomfortable, shifting slightly where he was still
wrapped in Edge’s arms. “alright, look—you know i’m not exactly one to spill my
guts—heh.” Edge almost rolled his eyes at the pun, but quickly gathered his
composure, reminding himself that the irritating jokes were merely a cover for
whatever grim feelings Stretch was trying to hide. Seeming to realise that Edge
wasn’t going to deign him with so much as a grumble, Stretch cleared his
throat, continuing. “i, um… i’ve been feeling a bit like you…” Stretch sighed,
seeming to concede. “like you don’t want me around.”

Edge was genuinely stunned by the
confession, and for a moment, he was speechless, blinking. “I—what brought this
on? Of course I want you around!” he said, a little exasperated.

Stretch laughed, but the sound
was devoid of any real humour, leaving a pit of discomfort in Edge’s soul.
“really? ‘cause sometimes it feels an awful lot like you don’t.” Shaking his
head, Stretch sighed, the false smile slipping from his face. “i just mean, i…
i love you. and—and i know you love me too, it’s just…” Edge could tell Stretch
was struggling to maintain the façade of nonchalance he so often projected, and
he gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Tell me,” he said, quietly.

Swallowing heavily, Stretch
finally looked up, and Edge’s soul wilted at the sight of the tears beginning
to form in his eye sockets. “why—why don’t you want to live with me, edge?” His
voice was very small, as if he was struggling to get the words out.

Edge frowned, looking away. They’d
had this conversation a million times, and he hated it with every ounce of his
being. It forced him to think of reality, when all he wanted to do when he was
around Stretch was let go, and pretend that reality didn’t exist. “It’s… not
that easy, Stretch—we’ve been over this. You know I can’t leave my—”

“well—red could come live with
us,” Stretch offered. Guilt blossomed in Edge’s soul at the almost pleading
tone to Stretch’s voice. “i mean—it’s not that difficult, edge. i don’t
understand why you insist on staying in this—this shithole anyway. does it have
something to do with me? am i—am i not good enough?”

There was a desperation to
Stretch’s voice that told Edge he was struggling to hold it together. The guilt
within him grew, and he bit down against the heavy lump in his throat. “Look,
Stretch—I love you. I love being around you—you’re my escape, and I can’t—”
Edge broke off, clutching tightly onto Stretch’s hands and meeting his eye. The
gently falling tears there certainly didn’t help Edge’s crumbling will to keep
this up. “But you need to understand that this isn’t about you,” he continued,
doing his best to keep his voice even. “This isn’t even just about my
brother—it’s about all the monsters here. I can’t just abandon them; they need
me.”

“i need you,” Stretch choked,
a sudden sob escaping him. His tight grip on Edge’s hands was enough to give
away the fact that he no longer had his emotions under control. “edge, you have
no idea how important you are to me—you have no idea. and i—i can’t keep living my life day to day, wondering if
you’re going to come home or not. i can’t wake up to an empty bed in the
morning, wondering if it’s because you’ve run off somewhere and gotten
yourself—” Stretch gasped, the unspoken word lingering gravely in the air.

Edge could only pull him against
his chest as he sobbed, knowing that nothing he could say would make it better.
“It’s… It’s alright,” Edge soothed, the words feeling empty even as they left
his mouth. “I… I’m sorry, Stretch. I’m—I’m so sorry.” Edge’s own voice cracked,
and he pressed himself against Stretch, as if his closeness might quell the
despair in Edge’s soul.

He allowed Stretch to cry himself
to sleep, head still buried in his chest. This argument was ongoing, but Edge
had never seen Stretch break down so completely over it. The gloom within him
hung heavy over his soul, and he struggled to find sleep, even hours after
Stretch had drifted off.

So much for escaping the troubles
of the outside world.