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Sonny is startled by the sound of his own voice. Of his own sob. He’s sits up straight in bed and can barely breathe. Can’t grasp a conscious thought for a moment. Looks at the empty side of the bed. The side that used to be Clay’s.
He rubs his face, his cheeks wet from tears, and takes a deep breath. It’s a bit shaky. Sonny clenches his fists in the sheets, bows his head and takes a few more breaths. Until his heartbeat doesn’t feel like a bird in his chest that desperately wants to escape. He decides to get out bed and splash some water on his face.
It’s 3 a.m., his first free weekend since… Sonny can’t even remember, but it feels like forever. He turns off the tap and when he turns around…
"Hey." Sonny immediately wraps his arms around him.
"A nightmare again?" Clay’s walking stick falls to the floor with a quiet thud as he hugs Sonny tight.
Sonny just nods, unable to talk for a moment, because of the lump in his throat. Suddenly he’s on the verge of tears again.
"About Venezuela again?" Clay sounds like he’s holding tears back himself. Sonny nods, because yes. Bravo got blown up, Clay lost his leg. He’s dreaming about it more often than not, these days.
"I’m okay," Clay whispers. "I’m here. I love you." Clay’s fingers play with the hair on Sonny’s neck.
Sonny kisses him softly, as if he wants to reassure himself that Clay is real.
"Is the little one okay?" Sonny asks, nodding towards Brian’s room.
It was part of Stella and Clay’s custody agreement after the divorce that Brian would stay every second weekend at Clay’s.
"Yeah. He was just a bit fretful, but didn’t even wake up." Clay leans on Sonny, and slowly they make it to the bed. "Probably just a bad dream, like yours..." He stretches out on the bed. "Wanna talk about it?"
Sonny turns onto his side and swallows hard. "The mall cop shot you. Not with a taser-gun, but with a real one." He feels the panic and desperation that woke him up again. "Stella called and told me that you were dead."
He touches the scars on Clay’s chest with his fingertips. The marks left from the mall-cop’s taser. Sonny remembers the nurses telling him that was just pure luck Clay hadn’t ended up dead that day.
"No, babe," Clay says softly, running his fingers through Sonny’s hair. "It didn’t look so good for a second or two, but it’s all good now." He moves his fingers to Sonny’s beard and eventually kisses his lips.
Sonny deepens the kiss and pulls him closer. Then he shifts a little, so he can look into Clay’s blue eyes. "When I woke up the bed was empty. For a moment I thought my nightmare was real and you were gone..."
"I’m right here," Clay says, before kissing Sonny. "And very much alive, too." He grins. "If you have any doubts about it, just tell me and I’ll come up with something to make them disappear…"
"Sounds good to me." Sonny nods after a moment of mock consideration. "I guess physical evidence should be a good enough start…"
"Right." With a few quick moves, Clay lays on top of him. "Is that physical enough for you?"
"No." Sonny shakes his head and shoves Clay’s pajama pants off his hips.
"Okay," Clay says, pushing Sonny’s boxers down. "Because this might take a while."
And it really did.