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Sunlight trickled through the curtains as Henry blinked awake, squinting at the light that bounced like headlights across his vision. He ran his tongue over chapped lips, untangling his hands from the sheets to run a palm over his face.
The warmth of the asphalt ghosted along his back and he rolled over, crushing his face into the pillow next to his. The other man’s scent tended to calm him down after one of his nightmares, but today it only took the edge off of the haze crowding his mind. He sighed forcefully against the pressure building in his skull.
Henry glanced up at the sound of soft footsteps. Casey stood in the doorway, his henley riding up his waist as he gripped a pan, his eyebrows lifting slightly when he saw Henry was awake.
“Breakfast?” he suggested, voice soft in the way that Henry had only known Casey to be.
Henry scowled at him. He didn’t want to, but his head was already starting to hurt and the idea of doing something so domestic twisted in his gut.
“Don’t deserve it,” he murmured, turning his head to stare at the wall opposite the doorway.
It was Casey’s turn to frown and Henry wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t heard the small puff of breath. Everything was gentle about him. It pissed Henry off sometimes.
Casey glanced about the room, then picked up one of his dirtied shirts from the floor, using it to cushion the pan atop their dresser, before cautiously approaching the bed.
Henry squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed his face back into the pillow as Casey reached out and rested a hand on his arm. When it met no resistance, he climbed into bed next to Henry, wrapping an arm around his waist.
They lay there for several minutes, Casey rubbing circles into Henry’s stomach with the pads of his fingers, hand dipping slightly underneath his oversized button up, before pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. Henry huffed at the sensation.
Casey continued slowly pressing kisses into his skin until he felt Henry’s shoulders relax under his care. When he was confident that Henry wouldn’t fight him anymore, he asked, “Will you eat?”
Henry’s eyes slowly opened and he rolled toward Casey, finally noticing the smell of bacon in the room. His mouth was pressed into a thin line as he glanced at Casey, but he nodded.
Casey pressed a kiss to his temple before pulling the sheets back to help Henry pull himself out of bed. When Henry stood and stretched his aching muscles, his button up lifted to reveal pale thighs, and Casey turned away, picking up the pan of bacon and bringing it into the kitchen.
Henry followed him, settling into one of the dining chairs they’d found at the thrift store months ago. He remembered mentioning offhandedly to Casey that he wished he had the dining table from his parents’ house. The next week, Casey brought home a small table and two mismatched chairs, avoiding eye contact as he assembled them.
The memory made the weight in his gut heavier and he furrowed his brow, watching the man in front of him. Casey chewed on a toothpick as he cracked eggs into the pan, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder.
He glanced back at Henry then, checking to make sure he’d come out of the room. When he realized that Henry was already looking at him, Casey flashed him a genuine smile, unphased by the other man’s frown, before turning back to the stove.
Henry’s chest tightened at the other man’s reaction. He sucked in a breath and shifted his gaze to the table, studying the worn wood like it could tell him how he got into this situation.
He didn’t deserve this. Not after what he’d done. How could Casey even stand to be with him?
He exhaled shakily, attempting to quiet the tide rising in his throat, and when it rose anyway, he held his breath. He didn’t deserve to cry. A broken sound escaped his mouth before he crushed his lips back together in a pained grimace.
Casey turned towards him at the noise, holding the plates with their breakfast. Henry looked towards the movement and they locked eyes. Casey’s face shifted from confused to worried, his eyebrows knitting themselves together.
Henry dropped his head against the table, the urge to hide overwhelming as he choked back his tears, pressing his hand hard against his mouth. He swallowed hard, trying to clear the saliva gathering in his throat, but the sound of his wet gasps continued as his chest hitched.
Casey quickly sat their food onto the table, climbing into the chair next to him. Henry continued to fight against the tears running down his nose. When Casey pressed a hand in the middle of his back, he took in a shaky gasp, inhaling like he hadn’t had a good breath of air in years, and began to sob in earnest. Casey just stayed there, one hand against Henry’s back.
Eventually, he calmed down enough to think and he realized that his hand was tangled in Casey’s shirt, gripping the fabric so hard that he had pulled Casey halfway out of the chair. Tears were still slipping down his face, and his breath wasn’t steady yet, but he was starting to feel his brain calm down, the silent pressure settling back between his eyebrows.
Henry slowly lifted his head as he looked up at Casey, hyperaware of the man’s presence. He started to pull his hand away, but Casey reached up and grabbed it, straightening in the chair and massaging his palm.
Henry watched him as his breathing relaxed. Casey’s calmness often unsettled others, but he found it soothing compared to his own extreme emotions. Casey never seemed to know what to do with Henry’s outbursts except wait for them to pass, then pick up the pieces.
When he was done massaging Henry’s palms, Casey rested his palm against the other man’s cheek, searching his eyes. Henry let him. If he was honest, he would let Casey do anything to him. Henry gave him a half-hearted smile and Casey returned it before leaning in to press a kiss against his forehead.
“Come here,” Casey said as he pulled back and held his arms out. Henry climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, and fell into his arms without question.
Henry nuzzled his nose into Casey’s neck, whispering “I’m sorry,” into his collarbone and pressing a kiss into the skin. Casey squeezed his ribs in response before reaching behind him and dragging one of the forgotten plates closer to them.
He kept one arm wrapped around Henry as he held a forkful of eggs up to his mouth, silently coaxing him to eat. Casey smiled at him again as Henry fed him a strip of bacon. Henry snorted at the absurdity of it, the sound catching in his still-sore throat.
They only managed to get through one of the plates, feeding each other and dropping egg on the floor twice, before they both hunched over laughing, food abandoned.