Work Text:
Jonathan finds himself staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping. Twelve hours ago, he thought he’d never sleep again. He and Malcolm were facing execution as spies on a low-technology planet where they couldn’t reveal the truth of their origins.
They’d talked, finally voicing a long-simmering attraction. He’d taken Malcolm’s hand, drawing as much comfort as he offered in that last hour together.
Now he finds himself alive… and unsure how to go forward. He can’t unsay what was said, nor would he want that.
Abandoning the pretense of sleep, he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants when there’s a soft knock on the door. As it slides open, Malcolm reaches for his hand. The connection is there again… and this time there’s no stopping.