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He was awake for just over a minute the first time.
It was a soft awakening. No alarms, no panic, no screech of medical equipment.
Gordon’s eyes blinked open as he slowly looked around the room. There was a soft haze to his vision. Not enough to worry about, but enough for him to question if he was dreaming.
He continued glancing around the room. If felt familiar, but he didn’t fully recognize it. He did however recognize the equipment surrounding him. His tired mind couldn’t focus on anything fully, so the pull of panic that grabbed at him faded quickly for a few reasons.
First was the memory of being shot.
Thankfully he didn’t remember the entire scene, but he did find a bumpy, healed-over scar just below his rib cage. He ran his fingers over it, inspecting the dimpled skin under his shirt with his fingertips.
Second was when his fingers touched skin that was not his own.
It startled him, the feeling of another hand on his stomach. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t notice it first. The moment he did, it was all he could focus on at all. The heat of a palm pressed against his abdomen, fingertips sitting on the edge of his new scar. Gordon turned his head slowly, looking down to where the mystery hand’s owner would theoretically be.
A soft gasp slipped through his lips as his eyes fell on a shock of red hair propped on a pillow.
Warren.
Gordon laid there, frozen, for what felt like an eternity. The haze in his eyes seemed to only mute the background, Warren sitting just inside his focus. He took in every inch of the man in front of him.
Warren had fallen asleep in a chair pulled up to Gordon’s hospital bed. His left arm was wrapped around the pillow that held his head, and his right arm was extended out slightly so his hand could rest on Gordon. He looked healthier than Gordon remembered. Warren’s face had filled out slightly, no longer nearly skeletal looking. His skin was a shade darker than paper white and he had more freckles than before, like he had managed to spend a bit of time in the sun.
Gordon felt the impatient yank of sleep much sooner than he had hoped. He watched Warren until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.
In his last second of consciousness he grabbed Warren’s hand, pulling it up to rest on his chest. He tucked his fingers under Warren’s palm and fell asleep rubbing his thumb over pink, cracked knuckles.
*.*.*.*.*.*
The next time Gordon woke up it was to fingers running through his hair.
This time he didn’t want to wake up. He stayed right where he was, definitely awake and aware but doing his damndest to not show it.
The fingers continued to card through his hair, softly pulling the waves apart.
—
After a while, Warren watched as Gordon’s lips finally moved into a soft smile. He knew Gordon had been awake, but he wasn’t about to say anything. He froze in place, not intentionally, but out of instinct. He didn’t want to ruin it.
He had been a mess until Aubrey had come in and said the magic words.
“He’s out, he’s stable, and looks to be completely fine.”
Then he was a different kind of mess for the next seven days as Gordon went through the same quarantine that he had.
Gordon had thankfully slept through most of his quarantine. Warren had suspected that Aubrey just drugged him, but GORD had assured him all week that there were no drugs involved.
“This was Gordon’s first time hyper-sleeping. Excessive fatigue is a known symptom of emerging from hyper-sleep, especially one as long as yours.”
So when the seven days had finally passed and Aubrey finally let Warren into Gordon’s room, he was asleep.
The lights were a dim, red-orange and drenched the room in warm light. It was as cozy as a hospital room could possibly be.
And, of course, Warren hadn’t slept for almost thirty hours.
He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep or when his hand had ended up on Gordon’s chest.
He did know that if he didn’t have both hands on Gordon right now then he would absolutely explode and kill them both, which was not the plan at all.
—
So there he was; one hand resting on Gordon’s chest, held there by Gordon himself; and the other slowly carding through Gordon’s hair, soft strands tangling and untangling around his fingers.
Warren watched as Gordon’s lips cracked into a soft smile and froze in place, eyes wide.
“…Gordon?”
His voice came out as barely a whisper, like he was afraid he’d scare the man back to sleep. Gordon’s eyes blinked open slowly, smile widening.
“Hey, you,” Gordon whispered. “How’s the future?”
The laugh that escaped Warren’s mouth sounded a little too much like a sob for Gordon’s liking. So he pulled on Warren’s hand and reached out with his free one to pull on Warren’s shirt and wrenched the taller man out of his chair and into his arms.
It all happened so fast that Warren didn’t realize what was happening until he found himself in Gordon’s arms. His own hands were wrapped tightly around Gordon’s waist and back while his face was buried in the crook of Gordon’s neck.
That’s when he froze. Again.
The hum of electricity was the only sound in the room.
With their closeness they could hear each other’s pulses and feel the subtle shifts in their joints as their hearts beat in tandem.
They stayed there for ages until one of the machines Gordon was hooked up to let out a small, almost sad beep. It broke them out of their trance and that was when they finally realized they had both been holding their breath.
Warren’s deep gasp for air filled his nose with that bitter sting of disinfectant and medical supplies. Buried deep under all of the too-clean smells was the blank scent of ‘unscented’ soap and skin.
Gordon was thankful to smell something other than ‘hospital’. Warren smelled like clean fabric, old people, and what he distinctly and suddenly remembered as the smell of the filler he used to use in Waffles’ tank.
Gordon’s voice came out barely more than a particularly loud exhale.
“…why…why do you smell like Waffles?”
Warren’s shoulders started shaking after Gordon’ question. Gordon wrapped his arms around Warren even tighter in response, one hand sliding up into Warren’s hair. He took in a breath to say something, anything, worried something he said had landed badly.
Then, once his foggy brain had caught up, Gordon realized Warren was laughing. Soft huffs of breath tickling across his collarbone. He felt Warren’s hands wrap tighter around him, passing over bumps of spine and rib that definitely weren’t bumps before. Warren lifted one hand, looking curiously at his -now much skinnier- knuckles. He dropped his hand back down to Warren’s back, gripping onto his shirt. Gordon took a deep, stuttering breath and tried to fight the sting that was starting behind his eyes. He felt Warren loosen his grip and did so in tandem as Warren sat back into his chair. As he pulled back, Warren grabbed Gordon’s hands, holding them in his, staring at the contrast of pale-pink and pale-tan on Gordon’s abdomen.
“I…” Warren started before clearing his throat softly. “I cleaned out her tank today. The vivarium.” Gordon huffed in laughter and watched as Warren stared at their hands.
“I can’t believe she’s still here,” Gordon whispered. He watched as Warren smiled.
“She still bites,” he laughed gently. Gordon watched as exhaustion crept into Warren’s entire being. His breathing slowed, his eyes drooped, and his thumb slowed its soft passing along Gordon’s knuckles. Gordon squeezed his hands.
“You should go rest.” Warren looked back up at Gordon, the sleep in his eyes now accompanied by shock.
“N-no, I’m not-“
“You need to rest as much as I do.” Gordon smiled, squeezing Warren’s hands again. “You deserve to sleep in a bed and not on a chair.” Warren stared at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed.
“I slept in a bed for forty years, I don’t need one right now,” Warren huffed, situating himself on the pillow he had been using, propping his head up comfortably.
“I think we both know that hyper-sleep can’t really be considered resting,” Gordon sighed, his playful tone betraying his defeat in this not-argument.
Warren sighed, “I’m not leaving you.” He looked back down at their joined hands, Hester’s voice echoing through his mind.
I just wanted to save us all ten minutes of britishness.
“Gordon I-“
“War-“
Soft, happy laughter filled the room. It was as if all the heavy parts of Red Valley had been banished to the upper levels. GORD dimmed the lights by two percent.
“You go first,” Warren whispered. He looked back at Gordon, his head cradled in the scrunched pillow, hair thoroughly disheveled. Gordon hesitated for a moment.
“I…I don’t remember what I was going to say,” Gordon admitted, chuckling softly.
“That’s alright.” Warren joined in the soft moment of laughter.
“What were you going to say?” Warren hesitated at Gordon’s prompting. He looked back down at their hands, still tangled and resting on Gordon’s abdomen.
“Do you…do you remember that movie with uh…the Joker guy…ah! Heath Ledger? A Knight’s…story?” He has a plan here. It makes sense in his head but it all rides on Gordon remembering an old, American movie.
“A Knight’s Tale.” Gordon’s kind but confident correction broke Warren from his short spiral.
“Yeah, yeah, that one,” Warren said excitedly, sitting up off the pillow for a second before resting back into it. “Do you remember the scene -it’s late in the movie, when they’re traveling around to different tournaments- the um…” He trailed off, his excitement waning the closer he got to what he actually wanted to say. He looked back to Gordon to take in the soft, half lidded smile that graced Gordon’s face. He could tell the man was paying attention, but he couldn’t tell if he was quiet because he was tired or if he was letting him talk without interruption for once. Either option made Warren even more nervous. He took a deep breath and looked back down at their hands before continuing.
“The…um…” Warren felt his chest clench. The words needed to come out, but they also didn’t want to. He squeezed Gordon’s hand. Gordon squeezed back.
“The letter?” Gordon finished the sentence after waiting a few moments in silence. Warren nodded, still looking at their hands.
“The letter.”
They sat in silence for a while, the electronics around them filling the air with their white noise.
They sat in silence for so long that Warren’s eyes had started to drift shut before Gordon spoke again.
“‘It is strange to think, I have not seen you since a month,’” he whispered. Warren’s face broke into a wide smile as he watched their hands.
“‘I have seen the new moon, but not you,” Warren continued, still pointedly not looking at Gordon’s face. He closed his eyes. GORD dimmed the lights again.
“‘I have seen sunsets and sunrises, but nothing of…” Gordon trailed off for a beat. He took a deep breath and lifted one hand out of the tangle of fingers and carded it through Warren’s hair, pushing softly to tilt Warren’s head so he could see his whole face.
“‘Nothing of your beautiful face.’”
There was a heavy moment between then and when Warren started the quote again, Gordon’s hand was still gliding through his hair. Warren melted under Gordon’s hand, relaxing deeper into the pillow, almost falling asleep for a split second.
“‘The pieces of my broken heart can pass through the eye of a needle,’” Warren whispered after letting out a deep sigh. He furrowed his brow, scrunching his entire face, preparing himself before finally opening his eyes again.
The dim, golden light of the room bathed Gordon in an etherial glow. His dark, wavy hair framed his face against the stark white of the pillow like a halo. His eyes were half open, his lips pulled in a smile that said so much that it somehow both scared Warren to death and brought him enough life to last him another 40 years or more. It was intoxicating.
GORD dimmed the lights again.
“‘I miss you like the sun misses the flower-‘“ Gordon started. Warren sat up, one hand rising to hold Gordon’s to his face, the other moving to cup Gordon’s cheek in return.
“‘I’ve missed you like the sun misses the flower in the depths of winter. Instead of beauty to direct its light to, the heart hardens like the frozen world your absence has sent me to.’” Finally there is eye contact. Yellow-green meeting golden-brown. Gordon looked almost scared, like he can’t tell if he’s still dreaming or if this was really happening and it’s terrifying. Warren continued, skipping the bits that don’t matter.
“‘Hope guides me,’” he whispered leaning into Gordon’s hand. Warren felt the dam finally break as a tear escaped down his cheek, breaking against Gordon’s thumb. Warren took a shaky breath before forging on, barreling over Gordon’s preparatory gasp.
“‘It gets me through the day and especially the night. The hope that after you leave my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you.”
Warren took another shaky breath. Gordon wiped his cheek with his thumb, and Warren returned the favor, shifting again to hold Gordon’s face in both hands.
The next line comes out so quietly, Gordon almost doesn’t hear it.
“‘With all the-“ Warren’s voice cracks and he almost looks away, but Gordon’s hand on his cheek holds him steady.
“‘With all the love I possess, I remain yours.’”
Gordon’s face went through thousands of expressions. Shock, awe, hesitation, understanding, a little bit of fear, and a lot -a LOT- of love. They’re both crying now, but smiling huge, cheeks straining. Gordon let out a huff of joyous laughter as he pulled Warren back to his chest, shockingly strong. Warren buried his face back into the crook of Gordon’s neck as Gordon pressed soft kisses into his hair, his temple, his ear, anywhere he could reach.
After basking in Gordon’s warm embrace for another long moment, Warren leaned back, scrubbing the tears off his face while looking around for a tissue. Gordon lets him for a split second before letting out a frustrated growl.
“No, no, you get over here,” he huffed, pulling Warren back down, this time dragging him up onto the small hospital bed with him. Warren freezes up again, half-hovering over Gordon in surprise.
“I-“ Warren swallowed hard, shifting his weight from one hand to the other, eyes never leaving Gordon’s face. “We both won’t fit, I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally said, voice strained after all the tears.
“You won’t hurt me,” Gordon said softly. He wove his fingers through Warren’s hair again, mussing up and taming the fiery curls in equal measure. “Besides,” he huffed, settling in to the bed, fixing pillows and adjusting blankets. “I swear I asked for a weighted blanket at least a hundred times.”
“The records state that you requested a ‘weighted blanket’ thirty-six times in the month prior to you entering hyper sleep,” GORD unhelpfully supplied. Warren groaned, gently flopping down onto Gordon. Gordon just laughed.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that thing having my voice.” Warren chuckled, smiling into Gordon’s neck.
“I can switch back to the standard issue Blue Sky vocalizations at any time.”
“Nope, no” Warren grumbled, waving a hand in the general direction of GORD. “Just- mute, please.” GORD beeped in response, reverting to silent mode and dimming the lights again, bringing them down to a barely-there glow. Gordon chuckled, his hand returning to play with Warren’s hair.
They stayed like that until their breathing synced up, their chests slowly rising and falling in unison.
Gordon jumped when Warren spoke again.
“‘m glad you still have hair.”
Gordon’s laugh sounded like it had forced its way out of him. A half cough, half shout of a laugh that shook Warren to full consciousness.
“‘The hell do you mean you’re ‘glad I still have hair’?!” Gordon huffed out, trying to calm his laughter before it hurt. “Was that a serious worry? That I’d come out with no hair?”
“A bit yeah!” Warren laughed, leaning back to prop himself up on one elbow. “How much did they tell you?”
“Not a lot,” Gordon started, trailing off and seemingly getting distracted by Warren’s closeness. He blinked a few times, watching the concern start to fade into Warren expression. “Sorry, tired,” he said softly. Warren hummed.
“Sleep first, I’ll tell you about everything you missed when you wake up.” Warren curled back into Gordon’s side, making sure his sharp joints were kept in check; knees facing the mattress, elbows tucked in.
“Mmm, good idea,” Gordon sighed, one hand returning to its new favorite place in Warren’s hair.
The pair fell asleep almost instantly, and GORD turned out the lights completely as soon as the monitors said they were out cold.
*.*.*.*.*.*
The third time Gordon wakes up its to the slow waning of warm light reentering the room.
Its another slow, soft awakening. Mind before body.
He took a deep breath, reveling in the weight of Warren’s body against his.
He is content.
Happy.
He waited there as the lights continued to get brighter and brighter, listening to the soft sound of Warren breathing. It’s nearly silent, the sound more of a rustle of barely shifting fabric than it is breath.
Gordon’s hand was still in Warren’s hair.
It takes him a minute to remember that he had asked Aubrey to be…kinder…when waking him up in the morning. No abrupt lights, no loud intercoms, no GORD half shouting his own name at him in his own voice. They had agreed on something GORD had called a ‘sunrise awakening’. The AI would slowly bring the lights up from off to full power over the course of thirty minutes. Then, after the thirty minutes were up, GORD would beep out a little tune before Aubrey would come over the intercom.
Judging by the light level, they were a little under halfway through the thirty minute cycle.
Gordon took another deep breath, this time releasing it in an uncontained, almost aggressive sigh.
He didn’t want to get up.
He wasn’t particularly thrilled about Aubrey seeing him and Warren in their current set-up, but he could get over it.
He wasn’t entirely sure if he could get over leaving said set-up, though.
He stayed there for a moment, his hand absently curling through Warren’s hair as he thought through his options.
After a few more minutes, he carefully turned his head away from Warren.
“Psst-hey, GORD?” He whispered. GORD beeped quietly in response, still in mute mode.
“Please send a message to Aubrey.” The AI beeped again. “Tell her I’ve decided to sleep in. Send her whatever you need to let her know I’m ok so she doesn’t freak out, ok? I’ll let her know when I…when we’re up.” Another beep, followed by two more that imitated an affirmative hum.
“Thanks, GORD.” Another positive beep rang through the room before the lights quickly dimmed back down to nothing.
Gordon settled back in, tucking Warren’s head back into the crook of his neck and curling his other hand around Warren’s shoulder, his fingers tucked under his own chin.
He fell back to sleep within seconds.
*.*.*.*.*.*
Aubrey was already halfway down to check in with Gordon when her Blue Sky unit all but pulled her aside to show her a message from the corresponding unit in Gordon’s room.
“Incoming message from Gordon. Please step to the side Aubrey.” She huffed, stopping in the middle of the empty hallway to send an annoyed glare at the hovering robot, a habit she still kept up regardless of its ineffectiveness.
“What is it GORD?” She finally sighed, following the unit to where it had hovered over to a small alcove in the side of the hallway. The screen on the unit flashed as it displayed Gordon’s vitals.
“Gordon would like to sleep in today,” GORD began, flicking through the displays of Gordon’s vitals as if trying to convince Aubrey to say yes to the request. She had no reason to say no, but she waited while GORD continued its presentation.
“Gordon said that he would let you know when him and Warren are awake and ready to begin their day.”
Aubrey paused. Not in shock, but in strangely giddy excitement. An almost identical feeling to the giddy excitement she had felt when Hester had asked her out on their first ‘date’. Or, at least what could be considered a date during the slow apocalypse.
“Him and-?”
“Gordon and Warren, yes.” Aubrey smiled.
“You sound like you have something else you want to tell me GORD.”
“Gordon told me to show you whatever I needed to in order to convince you to allow him and Warren to sleep in. You have yet to confirm or deny the request, so I do have one more thing to show you if you need further convincing.” Aubrey’s smile turned mischievous.
“Show me,” she said, firmly, keeping any lingering emotions out of her voice. GORD let out a small beep in response, its screen flipping over to a still from the camera feed in Gordon’s room. It showed the entire room, machines and bed and all. Aubrey had to lean in closer in order to see what was actually happening in the photo.
It took a moment for her to realize what she was looking at, but after a beat she noticed the shock of red hair at the head of the bed, next to a cloud of brown waves.
Aubrey’s smile drooped for a split second before spreading back across her face, wide and warm.
She turned on her heel, starting to make her way back to where she came, humming to herself.
Grace owed her twenty pounds.