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Ben’s just about to give up and go to bed when the sound of a shaky key in the door rings out. It’s late - or early, really, judging by the way the dark has started to fade and give way to another day. He’s always found so much peace in that - the sight of one day fading away with new light. He used to sit and watch it from a bench in the park sometimes, when everything was a little too much. It’s a kind of solitude, a kind of promise that whatever happens that will still happen - the Earth will still turn, the moon will still fade and the sun will still rise with exceptional certainty. Ben still watches it sometimes, but now more often than not it’s from their bedroom window. The bench doesn’t hold quite as much comforting solitude any more. He finds that he can get that in their bedroom too, even if Callum’s there - it’s a nice way to be alone without being alone, and it’s a kind of comfort he’ll never admit to anyone else.
Callum doesn’t take as much comfort from the changing of the days as he does, even though he sees it more often than Ben. Especially now, since he sees it more often than not - what with late shifts as a paramedic and overtime when the hospital is overrun. He’d once said that it made him feel like time was moving on without him, like it couldn’t possibly be the beginning of a new day because he hadn’t slept yet, but the new day was already starting, and all the things he hadn’t done -
Ben had ended up kissing him to stop that train of thought.
It’s why, more often than not, Ben sees those times with Callum, just in case. When he has a particularly late shift he’ll stay up in the living room, sinking into late night television until the door clatters open again.
It’s why he’s here, waiting. It feels strangely domestic and Ben finds he doesn’t mind. It doesn’t scare him as much as it used to, the thought of domesticity, and maybe that’s an achievement in itself.
Ben hears the door swing open then, the clattering of the blinds against it too loud through the silence. Callum must think so too because, just at the edge of his hearing, there’s a quiet fuck and the noise stops abruptly. Always so considerate.
The door closes quietly a minute later, and there’s another crash - this one unmistakeably the sound of Callum walking into one of the kitchen chairs - there’s another little fuck right after that too. It would be funny, if Ben didn’t know just how exhausted Callum was. It had gotten to the point where Ben was almost begging him to take a shift off before he’d left that morning - he’d done a double shift, and the bags under his eyes were steadily climbing. Callum had argued that he had the weekend off anyway, so he couldn’t call in sick on my last shift, Ben, it’d just be a pain. That’s why Ben had been so determined to see his arrival tonight - because he’d been expecting this crash.
Callum must see the low light in the living room when he leaves the kitchen because there’s a little noise - an adorable little huh? that makes something squeeze deep in Ben’s chest - before he’s walking into the living room.
God , he looks good in that uniform.
He stands there surveying the room for a moment until his eyes catch on Ben, and the surprise that fades into his expression, followed by the smile that creeps onto his tired face at the sight of him is something that Ben never wants to forget.
“What you doin’ up?” Callum whispers, voice low and a little hoarse, and it makes Ben wonder how busy things have been. The sound of the other man’s voice also just makes him shiver anyway - his accent always comes through stronger when he’s tired, and it’s equal parts adorable and devastatingly hot.
“Waitin’ up for you like a good little house-husband, ain’t I?” Ben replies with a smirk. It’s a running joke between them that Ben’s settling into the house-husband role nicely, what with all this waiting up for Callum, and it’s another thing that doesn’t scare Ben as much as he thought it would.
“Mm, well I certainly ain’t gonna complain,” Callum replies and tilts his head forward, eyes closed. It’s a clear request for a kiss, even if Ben’s still sat on the sofa and it’s unbearably sweet. He drags himself up and over to the door, and presses a kiss to Callum’s lips. It’s slow and soft, and it’s something and nothing, and it’s more than enough for now. They’re both too tired for anything more, and Ben can see the way Callum starts to fidget as they pull apart and he catches sight of the light in the window.
“Right, come on you,” Ben says, dragging the other man’s attention back to him. “Upstairs. It’s sleepy time.”
Callum rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face somehow gets a little wider. “Mm. Need a shower first, ‘m all sweaty. You wanna join?”
There’s complete innocence in the question, and the other meaning is something that probably doesn’t even cross Callum’s tired mind so Ben holds his tongue and nods. “Go on then. Upstairs with ya, just gonna check the doors.”
Callum nods, blinking slowly and tiredly, then presses a small kiss to Ben’s forehead before turning out of the room. The space gives Ben a chance to breathe against this rising giddy feeling that rings through him sometimes, when he’s reminded of how much this man cares for him. It’s a lot to feel at once so the space is nice, and he focuses on turning all the lights off instead because it’s at the point where it feels wrong to be away from Callum any longer.
Eventually he does stumble up the stairs himself, heading straight for their room when he doesn’t hear the shower. Ben finds Callum sat on the edge of the bed in just his boxers, his uniform folded - if a little messily - on the floor.
“Alright, handsome?” Ben calls quietly, and when Callum looks up that smile comes back to his face. It’s accompanied by a growing blush a second later, and the smile turns bashful.
“Everything alright?” Callum asks, ever the protector, the one to take care even when he’s the one that needs it.
“‘Course,” Ben replies. The it always is when I’m with you goes unsaid, but he thinks Callum might hear it anyway. “Come on then, you. Shower and bed. And no funny business!”
Callum rolls his eyes again with a little laugh and reaches out for Ben, who pulls him up and off the bed. He stumbles a little and panic shoots through Ben for a second, before the other man rights himself.
“‘M alright, ‘m alright,” Callum says, a hand coming up to cup Ben’s cheek. “Shower and bed, yeah?”
Ben sighs, relief mixed in with an inexplicable amount of adoration. “Yeah. Come on then, you.”
He ends up leading Callum to the bathroom with a gentle hand, partly because he’s a little concerned he’ll fall again, and partly because Ben’s not sure he can actually bear to let go. The other man goes easily anyway, content for now in being led.
Ben flicks the light switch on when they get to the bathroom and he feels Callum flinch straight away. It’s bright and almost fluorescent, and such a stark difference to how things had been before. He turns and finds the other man stood there with his eyes pulled closed, a grimace on his face, and Ben can’t be having that .
“Wait there,” he says a second later, and flicks the light back off. Callum’s eyes flicker open and there’s a spark of panic in them.
“Where you goin’?” he says.
“Just to the bedroom, babe,” Ben replies, soothing his thumb over the back of Callum’s hand. “I’ll be back in a minute, Cal, just wait there.”
Callum nods a second later and squeezes Ben’s hand as he goes.
He half-runs back down the corridor to their bedroom, because any time away from Callum right now feels pointless. He searches the room for what he has in mind before his eyes find it in the darkness, and he pulls it into his hands.
By the time Ben’s back in the bathroom, Callum has barely moved. He’s watching out the window again, but he turns back around to Ben when he hears the other man coming.
“What you got?” he asks.
“Something,” Ben replies, and it’s stupid but this little thing feels so much more exciting than it should. It’s 4am, and all he’s doing is having a shower with his man but somehow Callum makes everything he does feel like so much more. “Close your eyes.”
Callum raises an eyebrow but he does it anyway, perhaps too curious to see what Ben has planned to argue. He flicks the light switch back on and he sees Callum flinch again, squeezing his eyes more tightly closed.
“Just one minute,” Ben says as he shuffles about, before he flicks it on and turns the main light back off, and it’s perfect. One of their bedside lamps sits on the toilet, plugged into the outlet just outside of the bathroom. It casts a softer light over everything, something that’s so much less of a contrast and hopefully reminds the other man less of the lights at the hospital. It also helps to disguise the sight of sunlight creeping in through the window, which is a bonus. “Alright, you can open your eyes now.”
Callum does, and they go wide and soft almost immediately. Ben counts it a complete privilege to be able to make Callum look like that, and it’s something he takes pride in.
He looks back to Ben, and there’s tears in his eyes - he knows that the exhaustion makes Callum more emotional but the sight of the other man crying still sends a shot of panic through him, terrified that he’s done something wrong.
“Thank you,” Callum says quietly. “I love you, so much.”
It’s a fact when he says it - an assurance of something Ben should already know. Maybe he does, but it still sometimes feels like the first time every time those words cross Callum’s lips.
“I love you too, darlin’” Ben replies, stepping forward so that he can hold Callum’s face in his hands. “Come on, let’s get you showered.”
It’s a simple routine, one that’s not new to them. Callum takes his boxers off and steps in to warm the water up, while Ben slips his contact lenses out in the mirror. The last thing he does is take out his processor - it leaves him vulnerable and it always makes him panic a little at first but maybe Callum just knows, because right at that minute he reaches out.
This, Ben finds, is something that hasn’t changed, because they don’t need words for this - it’s a simple dance around each other’s bodies, careful touches and washing off the stresses of the day. Ben runs shampoo through Callum’s hair while Callum helps the soap slide off Ben under the water. Ben runs soap over his shoulders and his chest while Callum slips a little shampoo into Ben’s hair.
Callum holds his hands tight when Ben lets the water run right over his face, because it still feels a little much to do it alone sometimes, what with the memories that water brings.
(It’s a routine they’d developed after that, actually. Ben had found water a little much for a while, which had ended up in him just- not showering because he couldn’t bear to admit it. Callum had worked it out because of course he had, because he’s observant and caring and loving like that. He’d showered with him for a while, holding his hand when the water was a little too close, took him back a little too strongly. Water still holds him captive sometimes now, still wraps a little too tight around him and chokes him with everything that could have happened then but it’s easier, because Callum’s there and he loves him, and that’s enough.)
They hold each other close under the water for a while because sometimes it’s just nice to be . That is, until Callum tries to stifle a yawn against Ben’s skin for the fourth time and he decides that enough is enough.
“Right, to bed with you,” Ben says, and it’s testament to how tired the other man is that he doesn’t even argue.
Ben turns the shower off and they wrap each other in soft towels, and he could just stay right here forever if the exhaustion wasn’t so evident in the other man’s eyes. They dry each other off and Ben sends Callum back to the bedroom while he turns the lamp off and pulls it from the socket.
When he gets back to the bedroom, Callum’s already tucked himself under the covers, watching the door. He’s sat back against the headboard as if he’s trying his best to stay awake, and he offers Ben a sleepy smile.
“Alrigh’?” Ben watches him say, half through a yawn.
“You’re adorable when you’re tired, you know?” Ben says, and Callum rolls his eyes again. He leaves the lamp on the bedside table and slips under the covers. As if it’s an instinct, Callum moves over to him and rests his head on Ben’s chest, pulling him in close. The pressure is nice, the feeling of just having Callum there, and Ben slips a hand into the other man’s hair. Contentedness makes a home somewhere deep in Ben’s chest when Callum properly relaxes into him.
Callum’s hands slip off him for a minute and he misses the warmth straight away, but they end up held up where he can see the movements they make.
Goodnight, Callum signs carefully, the budding light just catching on his skin and making him look ethereal.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Ben replies, and Callum nuzzles into him again.
(Ben can feel the smile that he hides against his chest.)
Callum’s asleep in minutes, little puffs of air curling out across Ben’s skin and maybe it’s an unusual thing to take comfort in, but he does. It’s a reminder that Callum’s safe, that he’s okay and that he’s relaxed, right here with Ben. Even when he doesn’t need the reminder it’s there, and it’s nice.
Ben falls asleep to that feeling, content.
(He dreams about Callum’s eyes and then wakes up to them, and maybe that’s the real dream - that he gets to wake up right there.)