Work Text:
The clock’s rolled over to single digits by the time Jon gets home from work, head foggy and eyes bleary with exhaustion. He hadn’t meant to stay so late; he’s been trying to get home earlier—”within normal waking hours” as Martin likes to say—but he’d gotten lost in the cycle of one more statement, one more follow-up, one more case.
He shuts the front door as quietly as he can, slips off his shoes and coat, and hangs his satchel on a hook by the door before padding softly through the kitchen and into the bedroom.
Martin’s asleep. Jon can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the duvet, one arm tucked underneath his head and the other stretched across the side of the bed where Jon usually sleeps, and a small pang of guilt runs through him. He takes a step toward the bed, and his foot brushes up against something small and soft that shifts and yields with a small mmrp.
“Oh,” Jon says, stepping back and crouching down so he can card his fingers through soft orange fur. “Hello, Clarence. Have you been keeping Martin company?”
Clarence meows and rolls over to expose his belly.
“I see,” Jon says gravely. He rubs small circles against Clarence’s stomach, feeling his rumbling purr against the palm of his hand, and a small sigh escapes him. “I… I know I shouldn’t work so late. Martin always likes to say that the documents are already old enough, they can stand to wait a few more days, and I- I know he’s right. I just get so caught up in what I’m working on that I… I lose track of time a bit.”
Clarence allows him to pet his belly for a moment more before his hind legs come up and begin to scrabble at the soft skin on the inside of Jon’s wrist with sharp claws. “My apologies,” Jon says, pulling his hand away with a wince. Immediately, Clarence rolls over and chases the trajectory of Jon’s hand, shoving his face into Jon’s palm with surprising force. Jon scratches behind his ears and under his chin for a moment before standing, scooping Clarence up in his arms, and depositing Clarence gently on the bed next to Martin.
Clarence makes a disgruntled noise before looking up at Jon and meowing loudly. “I’m going to get ready for bed,” Jon says, giving Clarence a stern look. “Stay.”
Unsurprisingly, Clarence does not stay. The little orange paw, sticking out from underneath the bathroom door and shifting back and forth, really is quite endearing.
“Yes, yes, all right,” Jon whispers as he follows Clarence back to bed. “I’m coming. You get your impatience from your father, you know.”
Clarence jumps up on the bed with a pleased mmrp. With a small smile, Jon follows, slipping under the covers slowly so as to avoid waking Martin. He’s hardly settled before Clarence walks matter-of-factly onto his stomach, kneads his paws up and down a few times in a way that has Jon wincing at the pressure on his ribs, and sits, paws folded underneath him and tail swishing back and forth as he stares at Jon’s face.
“Hello,” Jon says quietly, locked in a temporary staring contest before Clarence blinks, slowly and lazily. “Comfortable?”
Clarence makes a soft noise, rests his chin on Jon’s chest, and settles into a low, rumbling purr that vibrates against Jon’s sternum.
“Good,” Jon says, the word swallowed by a yawn. He shifts slightly and finds Martin’s hand underneath the sheets, covering it with his own. “Your comfort is, of course, my top priority.”
Clarence closes his eyes and, after a moment, Jon does the same. It takes him no time at all to fall asleep, surrounded by the ones he loves the most, safe and warm and home.