Work Text:
Martin’s eyes snap open. The dream fades even as he lies there, taking in shuddering breaths through his teeth so he doesn’t wake the Archivist sleeping quietly beside him.
The dream (nightmare) is already somewhat foggy around the edges, but the feelings of terror and guilt still sit heavy against his chest. He remembers her face, snarling down at him; an empty beach, somewhere; a man, in a hospital bed—
He rolls over. Jon, unsurprisingly, is looking at him.
“Did I wake you?” Martin asks softly. “Sorry.”
Jon shakes his head. Martin hears the unspoken no, I was already awake.
No, I was also having nightmares.
“Your hands are shaking.” Jon says quietly, in that same matter-of-fact tone that Martin has slowly been able to divorce from Jon-as-his-boss into Jon-as-his-boyfriend.
Martin looks down to find that, yes, his hands are trembling where they are clutched at the duvet. The more he tries to calm them, the worse it seems to get.
He’s about to leave bed entirely, go sleep on the couch so that maybe Jon can get some rest, when two hands close around his own.
“You’re okay.” Jon whispers. “I’m right here.”
Martin sucks in another shaky breath, but pushes away the images still haunting the corners of his mind in favor of looking at Jon.
They breathe together, until Martin stops shaking. Until his eyes flutter closed and Jon pulls him against his chest.
Until Jon’s eyes close too.