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Moonlight spilled through the gap in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow that would have been lovely if it wasn’t so late. Maybe Jon would be able to appreciate it if he was ever able to fall asleep. It was months after the end of the world had failed to happen, but some things still just weren’t working right.
Sleep, to name one. Jon’s stupid fucking brain, to name another.
Perhaps it was fitting. Why should monsters ever sleep? He’d still never quite been able to shake every trace of the Hunger. He had no compulsion left. That bit was gone. But he still found himself missing the statements sometimes. The fear. What kind of person did that mean he was. To miss something that had hurt so many people so deeply. He had hurt those people.
Jon rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour. Did he miss being an archivist? Did that mean he was still connected to the eye? Or, whatever remained of it at least. Was there still any left over?
God, that was a sobering thought. The fears were probably still out there, lurking, just waiting to bring in another archivist and start another ritual. Could they do that? Would he be able to stop them again? Was he strong enough?
“Martin, are you still awake?” He whispered at Martin’s back.
It was a moment before Martin shifted, turning over to face him.
“Well, I am now.”
“Sorry. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, I just-“
“Jon.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s fine. You’re alright.”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about the entities. Just… What if they try again? What if we can’t stop them this time? What if this all happens again, and I just… can’t do it again, Martin, I can’t. I don’t want to do it all over again, I don’t-“ His eyes were beginning to well up, and he tried to push away. To hide his face, maybe. To somehow protect Martin from the weight of his burden. He wasn’t sure. Martin caught his wrist and pulled him back.
“Jon.”
“Yes?”
“It’s okay. You’ve done enough. The world doesn’t need saving right now. We won, Jon, you fixed it. You can rest now.”
“But I-“
“Shh… rest now. Save the world another day.”
Martin let go of Jon’s hand and pulled him to his chest, wrapping him in a warm, deep, hug. Jon shuddered and melted into Martin’s arms, holding onto the back of his shirt for dear life. Martin slid a hand up to cradle the back of Jon’s head, and pulled him onto his chest. Jon rested his head in the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, receiving a kiss to the top of his head. The weight and pressure of Martin’s arms around him felt incredible, and Martin’s breathing made a slow, steady rhythm for him to relax to.
Surely nothing could be better than this. Jon felt as though he could live in Martin’s arms and die a happy man.
“Are you alright, Jon?”
“Yeah. Yes. I am now.”
Jon finally fell asleep in blessed comfort, his cheek pressed against the soft fabric of Martin’s t-shirt, Martin’s legs tangled in his. It was a deep and peaceful dreamless night, so unlike the nightmare or insomnia fraught nights he experienced so often.
+++++++++
When morning came, Martin’s alarm gave them both a rude awakening. Jon felt the heavy cloud of sleep falling away as the first rays of light peeked through the curtains, shining directly into his eyes. He closed them again and tried desperately to hang onto the last dredges of sleep slipping away from his foggy brain. Martin shifted and tried to sit up. Jon responded by holding onto him and curling up even further, trying to bury himself in Martin’s arms.
“Jon, I’ve really got to get up”
“mmm… just five more minutes…”
“Well… Alright.”
They stayed like that for roughly five more minutes, But it was becoming more and more difficult for Jon to hang onto the blessed sleepy comfort that gripped him before that infernal alarm had awoken them. With a sigh, he pushed away and let Martin get up.
Martin went to their closet and picked out a pair of trousers, a floral button up, and a jumper for Jon as well. It had become a sort of a routine. Martin got dressed while Jon attempted to get out of bed. Once he managed, Martin handed him a jumper which he gratefully put on. The morning chill was seeping through the cracks in the windows.
“Hm. I’m thinking omelet for breakfast.”
Jon swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Sounds good to me.”
“Could you see about the chickens?”
“Of course.”
Martin was nearly in the kitchen before Jon called out to him.
“Wait! Martin!”
Martin’s face was etched with slight concern as he turned around “What is it?”
“Well, its morning…”
“Yes…”
“And I still haven’t gotten a good morning kiss.”
“Oh my god, Jon, you annoying little man.” But he settled down on the bed anyway and took Jon’s jaw in his hands. Jon sighed and leaned into the touch just as Martin captured his mouth in a kiss.
Martin pulled away. “There. Satisfied?”
“I could go for a few more.”
“Never satisfied, huh? You’re like the discontented pig.”
“I’m like what? Should I be insulted?”
“Like the-- nevermind. It was an old children’s story about a-- pig. I don’t remember really what it was. I’ve just always heard that saying. You know, for people who are… well, discontented.”
“Martin?” Jon was looking at him with an inexplicable softness in his eyes, and it made Martin want hold him and bake cookies, and go for long walks in the countryside, and share the rest of his damn good life with the most amazing man he’d ever met.
“Yeah?”
“I love you,” said Jon, still looking all soft, like he Knew what Martin wanted and couldn’t wait to get started.
“I love you too,” said Martin, and kissed him again.