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Tim jolts awake in Jon’s arms, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. Jon is already awake, light sleeper that he is, and he tightens his grip around Tim with one arm, and with the other gently starts stroking Tim’s back. After a moment, Tim’s breathing slows and he opens his eyes to look at Jon. There’s no point in asking if it was a nightmare; they both know it was. It’s routine for them.
“Worms?” Jon asks instead.
Tim shakes his head. It’s the first time since the Prentiss attack that his nightmares have returned to the circus and Danny. He had half hoped that the worm-shaped horrors had replaced the clown-shaped ones, but of course that was too much to wish for. Danny’s death is going to be burned into his subconscious until the day he dies.
Jon doesn’t ask if he wants to talk about it; he knows it’ll be easier for Tim to talk about it without the pressure. They’re alike in that way.
“It was Danny,” Tim says, and for a few moments he has to put all of his attention on his breathing so that it doesn’t escalate into a panic attack. Jon desperately wants to know more, wants to ask who Danny is, but he restrains himself. He just holds him, lets Tim press his face against his chest, presses a gentle kiss to the top of Tim’s head, and waits.
“My little brother,” Tim speaks into Jon’s chest, because of course it’s easier to talk if he can hide and avoid looking Jon in the face, Jon gets it. “He died. He was killed by some thing and I saw it. I was there. I just… watched.” Tim is trembling in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Jon says, because what else is there to say? Jon simply doesn’t have the frame of reference for a loss like that. He barely remembers his parents’ deaths and he was never that close with his grandmother, but he can certainly imagine the pain. “Is that what brought you to the Institute?” Tim nods.
“I…” Jon hesitates, because he’s never told anyone about his own supernatural encounter, not since he was a child, but it only seems fair. “When I was eight, I encountered a Leitner. And it took someone. I couldn’t do anything, if he hadn’t snatched it out of my hands it would have taken me instead.”
Tim’s head snaps up so quickly that he nearly hits Jon in the chin. Tim’s gaze is intense as he stares at Jon, like he’s trying to determine if Jon is serious.
“Shit, Jon,” Tim says when he sees the pallor of Jon’s face.
“…Yes,” Jon says, shifting his gaze away from Tim’s eyes, and Tim wraps his arms around Jon, threading his fingers in his hair. Jon sighs.
“So what, I showed you mine, so you showed me yours, but with our trauma?”
Jon wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t say it like that, but sure.” Tim gently scratches Jon’s scalp, and they both start to relax.
“I wondered, when I started, if everyone at the Institute had something similar happen to them.”
“I don’t know,” Jon replies. “I’ve never asked, and I never told anyone my story.”
“Never gave a statement?” Tim asks sardonically. “No, me neither.”
“I’m not particularly keen on the Archives having my statement,” Jon says. Tim hums in agreement. “I think by the time this is all over, more than enough of my suffering will be on those tapes.”
“Don’t say ominous shit like that,” Tim huffs. “You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.” He wishes he could promise that he won’t let Jon get hurt again, but they both know that is beyond their control.
“What was it?” Tim asks after a moment.
“Hmm?”
“Your monster.”
“Oh,” Jon says, “A spider. Yours?”
“Clowns. How stereotypical, huh? Clowns and spiders. If it’s gonna be something I see every time I close my eyes for the rest of my life, at least make it original.” He laughs without any humor to it. “Guess Stephen King was onto something.”
“I’ve never read it,” Jon says, “Never really liked horror.”
No, Tim can imagine not. A Leitner at eight years old, Christ. That explains a lot about Jon, like why he treats each obviously fake statement as if it has offended him personally. This has been Jon’s whole life, while Tim has only managed to stumble into this in the past few years, and still Jon doesn’t understand it any better than Tim does. Jon is just as terrified as Tim is. At least they have each other.
“I did read Carrie,” Jon continues, “Didn’t really find it all that scary, mostly it was just sad. But I suppose that’s the point, the cycle of abuse, that monsters can be victims too…”
“Alright, you English major,” Tim says fondly, “Are we gonna go back to sleep? We can still analyze the themes of Carrie in the morning, you know.” Jon blushes at the teasing, and Tim finds him absolutely adorable.
“What time is it?” Jon asks. Tim turns to glance at the clock on his bedside table.
“Half three,” he says. Jon frowns, considering. If he were alone, he wouldn’t bother trying to go back to sleep, but with Tim he might actually be able to get a couple more hours. He’s certainly survived on less sleep than this before, he doesn’t NEED a few more hours sleep, but he’s trying to be better at taking care of himself, at both Martin and Tim’s insistence.
And, he thinks belatedly, Tim will get up with him if he decides not to go back to sleep. And while Jon may not need the extra sleep, Tim deserves it.
“Yeah, alright,” Jon says. Tim gives him a small, affectionate smile, and he wraps an arm around Jon’s chest, pulling him close. Jon snuggles against him and lets himself relax. He feels safe here, with Tim.
“I love you,” Tim sighs, and something about the way he says it makes Jon’s breath catch in his throat. Tim is free with his affections, always has been, and he’s told Jon he loves him several times in the past week. But he’s normally so casual about it, it’s something he’d say to all of his friends, but this feels intimate. Like it’s just for Jon.
“I love you too,” Jon replies.