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Jon’s awoken by a soft touch to his arm, a small, trembling hand shaking him gently. He blinks a few times to relieve the dryness of his eyes—sleeping with his eyes open has very few perks, and he can’t quite shake that particular habit even after all these years spent in relative peace—and when his vision clears, he sees a round, worried face staring back at him, hazel eyes wide and unblinking.
“Masie,” he says, voice still groggy with sleep, and he scrubs a hand across his eyes a few times before reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What- what’s wrong?”
“I had a nightmare,” Masie says, her voice tight and scared. “The- the one with the eyes.”
“Oh,” Jon says, a familiar thrum of anxiety bringing him fully awake. He shifts into a half-seated position and says, “It’s- it’s okay, Masie, they… they can’t hurt you. It’s just a dream.”
It’s true. It… it’s just a dream. The first time Masie had described the nightmare, her face buried in Jon’s chest as he’d hugged her close, he’d nearly flinched at her description of thousands of eyes, always watching no matter how much she tried to hide from them. Later, he’d shaken apart in Martin’s arms, gasping into the fabric of Martin’s shirt, it’s my fault, I’ve hurt our daughter, I’m a monster.
Martin had whispered back, it’s not your fault, they’re just dreams, you love her, you would never hurt her.
They’re just dreams, Jon had told himself, over and over again. The skies above them are blue and he doesn’t need statements anymore to survive and he hasn’t Known anything in years and years and she’s just afraid, in the normal, non-supernatural way.
He hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking, once, when Masie had crawled into bed with them and pressed her face into Jon’s shoulder, if she felt safe with them. It was a ridiculous question to ask a child, and he wanted to take the words back as soon as they’d left him, but Masie had simply curled closer to him and said, matter-of-factly, “Yeah? That’s a silly question, Dad.”
“Yes,” Jon had said with a small smile. “I- I suppose it is, isn’t it?”
Jon’s still not entirely convinced that it’s not his fault, somehow. That he hadn’t left some corrupted part of himself within her when she’d been born, startlingly quiet as she’d sat in his arms and stared up at him with wide, curious eyes and curled her hand around his thumb with surprising strength. But he tells himself now that even if it is, it doesn’t matter, because he can’t change what’s happened. He can’t control Masie’s dreams, but he can let her slip under the covers beside him and he can press a soft kiss to the top of her head and tell her that it’s okay. That they’re just dreams, and she’s safe with them.
She does so now, clambering clumsily over his legs and jabbing a particularly bony knee into his side as she situates herself between him and Martin. She must jostle Martin as well, because he makes a groggy noise before cracking one eye open reluctantly, his nose wrinkling in confusion. “Jon?” he says, voice rough with sleep. “What’s… what’s going…”
He finally takes notice of the presence of a third body in the bed, and his mouth forms a small O. He blinks away a bit of the lingering sleep and says, quietly, “Oh, Masie, honey. Did you have another nightmare?”
Masie burrows her face into the pillow and nods, little hands gripping the duvet and pulling it up to her chin.
Eyes, Jon mouths silently at Martin, gesturing vaguely to his own to further get the point across.
Oh, Martin mouths in reply, his face twisting into an apologetic expression before he turns back to Masie and takes one of her hands in his, squeezing it gently. “Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”
Masie hesitates a moment before shaking her head, tangling strands of curly brown hair around her ears as she does so. “Wanna go to sleep,” she says, punctuating her words with a yawn.
“Okay,” Martin says, and he squeezes Masie’s hand once more before letting go. “It is quite past your bedtime, after all,” he continues teasingly. “Can’t have you forming any bad habits.”
Masie giggles and says, “I’m going to be nocturnal! Like a- an owl, or a mouse, or…” Her nose scrunches as she thinks, and after a moment, she says, “A civet!”
“Oh?” Martin says, raising an eyebrow at Jon. “I wonder where you learned that word from.”
“Ha ha,” Jon says, not without fondness, before lying back down in bed and scooting close to Masie, nestling her between him and Martin. “It’s not that obscure of an animal, Martin.”
Martin makes a noise of amusement before leaning over to press a quick kiss against Jon’s nose. “Mm, it is, actually. But of course, you’re right—this is essential knowledge.”
“It is,” Jon says primly, before laying a soft, chaste kiss on Martin’s lips.
“Gross,” Masie says, turning her head to frown at Jon in a way that she almost certainly learned from Martin.
Jon lets out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Sorry,” he says, giving Masie a soft kiss on the forehead, right up against her hairline. “Let’s go to sleep now, yes?”
Masie’s mouth cracks open wide with another yawn. She snuggles deeper into the sheets and makes a sound that sounds a bit like uh huh but could just as easily be ‘m tired.
Martin’s hand finds Jon’s, and he rubs his thumb over Jon’s knuckles before threading their fingers together and resting their joined hands lightly on the duvet between them. Jon can feel the gentle rise and fall of Masie’s chest, and an intense, warm affection floods him all at once, leaving him breathless.
He gives Martin a small smile, mouths I love you, and closes his eyes, letting the feeling of quiet, domestic bliss lull him back to sleep.