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Parker and Arthur didn't share a bed often, it's just that buying a second bed would've been too much of a hassle and sometimes the couch in their apartment was too littered with boxes and files, and they were both too tired at the end of the day to move any of that.
The first time they'd shared a bed was awkward, stilted. They slept so far apart that a third person could reasonably fit in the space between them, and Parker had to admit that the bed they could afford was barely twin-size. They settled into sleeping with their backs pressed together, eventually, when the room was cold in winter and the blanket wasn't quite enough. It was then that Parker learned why Arthur looked like he'd been crying all night sometimes in the morning.
It would start with him stirring, tossing. He'd sometimes call out a name quietly, or just mumble it, but Parker eventually heard the syllables of it enough times to be able to tell what was being repeated through sobs.
Parker never knew what to do with himself in times like that. Listening to Arthur have a nightmare always broke his heart just a little, only because he never dared to do anything to help. God knows the man was already withdrawn enough about it, and the prospect of accidentally scaring him off with too much prodding and losing his trust was something that made Parker's chest go tight.
But tonight he just can't find the strength to keep himself away.
Quickly enough he realizes that he's never comforted someone through a nightmare before. Should he wake Arthur, or..? He turns around to face him and places a careful hand on his back. The shudder that pulls out of Arthur makes him feel completely wretched. The man curls in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and clutching his arms in the space between.
"Hey, Art..?", Parker tries in the softest whisper he can manage. He doesn't hear a reply, only muffled sobs.
Fuck it. He'll deal with any awkwardness in the morning if he wakes him on accident with this.
Parker carefully wraps an arm around Arthur's shoulders and pulls him closer. When he rolls over to his other side he thinks he must've woken him up, but Parker knows that Arthur probably wouldn't even think about clinging to him like a lifeline if he were awake.
Parker slowly runs his hand over Arthur's back, comforting him as best as he can.
"It's okay. Just a dream. You're okay, Artie."
He's not sure how long he spends like this. 15 minutes, maybe, or maybe a few hours. Still, eventually Arthur's sobs quiet down, his body no longer shuddering with each one. And yet his arms are still wrapped around Parker, and he's still curled up against his chest. At least his hands are no longer curled into fists in Parker's sleeping shirt.
Parker tucks Arthur's head under his chin, hand still running over his back in a slow rhythm.
They say that the sleeping mind acts on the most earnest of impulses.
He wonders if Arthur has ever wanted Parker to hold him like this as he sleeps.
When the morning comes, Parker carefully pries himself from Arthur's hold before he's awake, even if it feels like tearing off a piece of his own heart and leaving it with him in bed.
He doesn't tell Arthur about what happened during the night. He only cheerily asks how he slept when he comes into the kitchen, still bleary-eyed, even though he knows the answer.