He dreamed of whales in the sky. Long and grey and elegant, weaving through the clouds like a canoe through a lake: gentle, swift, even artistic. Nate dreamed of a creature grand in its travels through the breath of early morning. It weighed enough to crush anything, and yet it refrained, bound by its nature to a twisted brand of freedom.
Wade dreamed of an orca in the sky's churning surface. Black and white and stained by years of misconception, the beast sang its mournful song as lightning sparked and crackled around it. Stray birds became trapped between its teeth, and few returned to the raging storm. Wade dreamed of his orca and turned in his bed.
His face was greeted by a chest, solid and metallic and living all in one impossible bundle. He nuzzled it, warm metal smashing his nose to his face, and let out a grumble in his sleep. In his dream, the orca let out one more wail into the thunderstorm, and then Wade jerked awake, bonking his skull against that living metal chest.
"Ouchies."
When he opened his eyes, Nate was asleep. He hadn't expected anything more, the brick-jawed idiot worked himself so hard during the day he could sleep through a full four hours of the Full House theme blasting at max volume, not that Wade had tried or anything.
For a moment longer he admired the way moon bathed Nate's silver hair in white (eggshell? vanilla? maybe it was whitesmoke, that sounded cool) and then he closed his eyes once more. His cheek rested against an impossibly beefy chest that rose and fell and hissed just so slightly as the TO moved to accommodate each and every breath Nate took. Wade curled up against Nate's torso, breathing him in one last time before contenting himself to fall asleep again.
He dreamed of the same orca he had before, black and white and gold in the early morning light, except something was different this time. This time, the creature cut through the clouds in chase of a massive silhouette in the distance. You know, for symbolic purposes.