Work Text:
It had been several years since Jon's nightmares had abated into an occasional occurrence, but he was still a light sleeper. On mornings like this, when there was no need to get up early, he would let the sun wake him up rather than setting an alarm. Today, it was bright enough outside that a warm glow was cast over the bedroom, and Jon was letting himself simply bask before getting up. This was partly out of necessity - with his husband's arms planted firmly around his waist, and two cats snoozing on his outstretched legs, he didn't stand much chance of getting up. This suited him fine - unless he suddenly needed the bathroom, or started getting pins and needles in his legs, he was more than happy to stay here, reading. He was currently working his way through a paperback on paleontology, which Martin had gifted him for his fortieth a few months back. Despite everything, he still enjoyed learning new knowledge, and tended to prefer non-fiction nowadays. He staunchly avoided horror. Georgie had been unsurprised, but sympathetic, when he explained that he didn't much enjoy listening to What The Ghost anymore. It was nice that the two of them were close again - the few years when they weren't speaking hadn't been pleasant.
There came a loud snort from beside him, and Jon's free hand found it's way into idly playing with his husband's unruly hair. Martin always was a terrible snorer, but Jon had honestly found it endearing. Between his best impression of a chainsaw, and the tractor-rumble of the cats' purrs, Jon may as well have been enjoying a spot of quiet reading in a room full of land maintenance machinery. Not that he minded, of course, but he was almost certainly going to tease Martin about it later.
As if he knew he was being thought about, Martin mumbled in his sleep and tightened his grip around Jon. Clingy bastard, Jon thought, knowing full well that he was just as bad. Even worse, if they'd had a few drinks. Georgie had once informed him of her "blackmail folder" on her phone, full of various photos of Jon hanging onto, or getting emotional over a lack of, his husband. Jon had gotten her to send him one photo in particular, of him clinging onto Martin with his legs around his waist like a koala. His own face wasn't visible in the shot, but Martin was grinning down at him in fond exasperation. Thinking of the memory, Jon glanced down at him, fingers still combing through his hair. With middle age a tangible thing on the horizon for both of them (not a particularly frightening concept, considering what they'd been through already), Martin's hair was now thinning a little at the temples. The same couldn't be said of Jon, however, and Martin had expressed a bit of envy more than once. What jon liked even more, though, was the grey hairs scattered through his curls. Not quite as numerous as the salt-and-pepper affair Jon had going on these days, but enough to be easily visible. When the world had first returned back to normal, it had still taken several months for the bleached look from the Lonely to fade, and Jon had been utterly delighted when he realised it was finally gone entirely. Whereas Martin had been a little morose when, a few years later, he spotted those first few greys, Jon had been enamoured. Since his nightmares had finally started to fade into the vagueness that came with old memories around the same time, it had felt like a final assurance that the Fears really had left them. It honestly made him feel a little possessive too, the fact that they matched now, which was...christ. It sure was something, feeling smug because his husband had hair that was a bit like his own (well, they weren't married yet at the time, but the sentiment was more or less than same).
He could easily ramble on about Martin and his hair and his little crow's feet for hours on end, but that's certainly not to say Jon hadn't changed too. After a lot of work, he was finding it easier to set aside his paranoia and be more sociable (although a fair bit of credit ought to go to the therapist Melanie had recommended to him). His hair was...greyer, admittedly. Now that he didn't have an Eldrich horror tearing him apart from the inside, and the stress levels that tended to come with it, he'd managed to get into the habit of eating regularly again. Martin had helped with that one, happy to help take care of his husband despite the bad memories that came with caretaking. His health had improved, in general, now that he was a healthy weight (although in the past year or so he had arguably gotten ‘chubby’ rather than just ‘not half-starved’, which Martin seemed quite pleased about, if the way he was currently nuzzling his face into Jon's middle was anything to go by - although Jon was secretly a little disappointed that koala hugs were no longer an option). He had gotten a lot better at talking about his feelings rather than bottling them up until it was too much to bear (again, therapy), although he still found it a challenge sometimes to pinpoint how exactly he was feeling. After a lot of discussion, a fair bit of research and, admittedly, a good few hours crying on the couch even before that, Jon was trying to get assessed for autism. It had taken a lot of encouragement from Georgie (it was her couch he had been crying on. He'd been too anxious to tell Martin at first). It was probably going to be a while yet before he'd have an actual appointment, but it was working wonders for his confidence just knowing that the possibility was there. It certainly explained a lot about his childhood.
Their five year wedding anniversary was coming up next year. Jon was hoping to plan something special, but it seemed likely that Martin was thinking the same, meaning Jon would probably have to plan quickly if he wanted to beat him to it. Not that it was a competition, of course, just that Martin was generally better at organising dates and valentine's plans and anniversaries, and Jon wanted to surprise him for a change. He supposed he could always...casually mention the upcoming anniversary at work, and see what the class had to say about it, see if they had any good ideas. Amusingly, his students were quite invested in how their relationship was going. It was probably just benign nosiness (or a ploy to get him to forget that he was supposed to collect homework today), but when Martin had dropped by his room to hand over the lunch he'd left in the car that morning, the class had immediately started asking questions. Apparently it was a big shock that their scruffy English teacher was married to the school's kindly guidance counsellor (understandable - Jon was sometimes still awed that he ended up with someone as lovely as Martin). Apparently they gossiped for a few days until something more interesting turned up. One of the students had come to him a few days later, asking if he could help out at the LGBTQ+ club they were setting up. He'd honestly been chuffed that they'd asked him, and Martin had to deal with him excitedly talking about it for days. But that was enough about that. Jon needed to think of what to do for their anniversary. Obviously, they'd (hopefully) have a great many more over the years, but this was technically the first 'big one'. He wanted to do something nice for it.
Next to him, Martin stirred. Jon could feel his breath against the bare skin of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up in the night, and he chuckled at the sensation. This was apparently enough to wake up Martin properly, and he yawned, shifting closer to Jon on the bed. "Morning," he croaked, still groggy with sleep. "Morning, handsome," Jon replied easily, removing his hand from its position tangled in Martin's hair to turn the page of his book. Martin made an affronted sound at the loss of contact and Jon chuckled, putting his hand back in Martin's hair. "Yes, yes, alright," he teased, rubbing his thumb in circles at the base of his skull. Martin sighed and stretched out, pressing a lazy kiss to the nearest bit of Jon he could reach, which happened to be his waist. "Unhand me at once," Jon gasped in mock offense. Martin hummed and pushed himself upright so he was leaning against the headboard like Jon. Smirking, he draped both arms around Jon's shoulders and leaned his cheek on the top of his head. "Nope."
"You're unbelievable."
"Mm-hmm."
Jon managed to keep a straight face for a whole second more before bursting out laughing, jostling Martin with the motion. Martin smiled wider, ducking his head down to press a kiss to the corner of Jon's mouth. Jon turned to face him and kissed back, placing a hand on Martin's hip to steady himself, smoothing his thumb over the stretch marks that littered the skin there. His husband had finally been able to get a mastectomy two years back, and very much enjoyed the novelty of sleeping shirtless (Jon, on the other hand, got cold easily and had been known on occasion to sleep with two layers on). That was another thing they (wonderfully) matched on now, although Martin had slight dogtags, and Jon's scars were a bit more lumpy and uneven, and Martin's incision scars had joined together in the middle.
"Should probably get up."
"Without even letting me finish my chapter? You are so cruel to me."
At this, Martin laughed, tipping his head back and giving Jon an excellent view of the freckles and beard hair on the underside of his jaw.
"Fine, but I'm making a cuppa while you finish," he teased, giving Jon a last squeeze before getting up. "Mm, you're the best, dear," Jon yawned, settling back down onto his back.
"Are you just going to go back to sleep now you have the bed to yourself?"
"I don't plan to," Jon mumbled, petting the ears of the two cats that had immediately climbed onto his stomach, "but we'll see what happens."
"You're ridiculous!"
"I love you too."
"Yeah yeah, whatever, love."