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Warm and comfortable, it took an embarrassingly long time for Jopson to slip free of sleep's grasp. The last tendrils of a dream still lingering, he didn't notice for far too long that the thumb rubbing soothingly across his knuckles had followed him to consciousness, that the body he was curled against was very real.
Until he warily cracked open his eyes to the familiar sight of Captain Francis Crozier's ruggedly handsome face, mere inches from his own.
To his horror, he realised he had fallen asleep, his own exhaustion and the warm body in his arms lulling him into a surprisingly restful slumber. The peaceful fog was obliterated in an instant, however, as he remembered himself and leapt from the bed, stumbling backwards until his back hit the unyielding wood of the door. Unable to bring himself to look his captain in the eye, he spoke his regrets to the scarred floor, the words tumbling over each other in his haste to explain his grave blunder.
“My sincerest apologies, sir! Please forgive my impertinence. You were so unsettled I thought only to comfort you enough that you should find peace to rest, I did not intend—”
“Hush, lad.” The softly spoken directive had Jopson's jaw snapping shut as firmly as if it had been a barked command. “Don't fret. You did nothing wrong.”
Jopson blinked, shock raising his gaze from the floor to boggle at Crozier in bewilderment. Surely it is the worst kind of indiscretion to take it upon oneself to climb into the captain's bed. That falling asleep beside him had not been his intention was certainly no excuse for such behaviour.
Yet far be it for him to argue with his captain and still fully expecting a reprimand - an order to leave at the very least - he remained silent, eyes downcast yet again, and so it took him a moment to register the crooked, boyish smile tilting at Crozier's mouth.
“You always know how best to care for me.”
Despite the fear churning in his gut, that simple statement sent a thrill of pride through his heart. That was all he wanted, and what he endeavoured to achieve every day, but to have overstepped… He couldn't forgive himself even if Crozier saw no infraction.
A shuffling upon the bed caught his attention and he risked another glance up to find a gently trembling hand reaching out towards him.
“Come here, lad. I have not the strength to come fetch you myself.”
Jopson stepped haltingly forward, prepared to stop a discreet distance from the bed, but that hand caught his wrist in a surprisingly firm grip and tugged him closer. The blankets were swept back to reveal a strip of bare mattress and there was another pull at his arm.
“Come on then.”
Jopson only stared, uncertain of what was being asked of him even when the evidence was plain. “Sir?”
“Lie down, Thomas.” His given name, spoken in Crozier's sold lilt and full of fond exasperation, had Jopson flushing to his ears as he bent to obey, awkwardly reclaiming the spot he had so recently occupied.
Assuming Crozier wished for his embrace once more, Jopson was instead compelled by a hand at his hip to turn the other way. Weak as it was, he allowed the pressure to guide him until he lay with his back to Crozier. Once he was settled, that large hand curved over his ribs, sliding up to rest flat against his chest.
Aware the captain couldn't see his confused frown, he found his tongue. “Should it not be I, sir, who holds you?”
Crozier hummed, the sound close enough to raise goosebumps across his shoulders. “Indulge an old man, won't you?”
And so, unable to deny his captain his request, Jopson stilled and stared out into the dimly lit cabin, so very aware of the arm slung about him, its weight across his middle, the fingers splayed across his clothed breast, focusing on calming his breathing to a rhythm that would hopefully send Crozier back to sleep.
Entirely unprepared for it, Jopson jerked when he felt Crozier's nose press into the hair at the back of his head, the gust of warm breath that tickled across his neck. It was just as suddenly gone again, the arm snaking away as Crozier pulled back.
“I've made you uncomfortable,” Crozier said, voice gruff with regret. Even in his sickness he agonised over taking advantage of his steward, despite knowing how far Jopson would go for him. “This was no order, you are free to leave.”
“No!” Jopson felt his cheeks heat at the urgency with which the word left his lips. He cleared his throat and twisted to grope for Crozier's hand, to pull it back to him. “It is only that… I fear if I relax I will find it entirely too comfortable.”
A soft chuckle sounded near his ear. “Well then, I see no reason to fight it.”
Jopson chewed his lip, met Crozier's eyes for any sign that this was a feverish delirium brought on by the absence of whiskey, saw only the shrewd, clear blue gaze free of the haze it had been lost behind for too many days now. It was a reassuring sight, if one that raised more questions than it answered.
Questions for tomorrow, perhaps, for he dare not risk bursting the peaceful bubble that encased them now.
This time, Jopson settled back against Crozier's chest, the warm swell of his stomach, allowed the arm that brought the blanket up before wrapping about him to hold him in place, blunt fingers playing idly across his still-clothed breast, the movement and warmth having the soporific effect Crozier no doubt intended.
“Go to sleep, Thomas.” Crozier's voice was a whisper close behind him. “You need it as much as I.” The whisper drew closer as Crozier rested his head gently against Jopson's own, a touch somehow more intimate than any they had previously shared. With sleep rising up to claim him once again, Jopson almost missed his captain's final words, uttered on a breath. “You deserve it more than I.”
Any argument he might have fought the clutches of sleep to make was quickly dispelled by the barely-there graze of chapped lips against his nape.
Perhaps that had been the stirrings of a dream, but this time Jopson welcomed it regardless.