Chapter Text
The first thing Jay becomes aware of as he gains consciousness is the warmth. It was all encompassing, like being wrapped in a blanket crafted by God himself, ensuring his comfort and peace. Strong, thick arms were pulled securely around his middle, tugging him into a soft, but solid frame. Matt’s chest was slightly sticking to his bare back, and his face was smashed into the back of Jay’s shoulder, the one not pressing into the mattress below. His breathing was slow and content, breezing across his skin, eliciting a light shiver from Jay. Matt has a leg bent in between his, foot hooked across his own, knee nudged in between his thighs.
Jay pushes back slightly, running his hand along Matt’s arm, who grumbles lightly, smacking his lips in his sleep, leaving spit to coat onto Jay’s skin, and pushes himself harder into his back, causing him to huff fondly. There’s mid morning sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains, basking his face in pleasant warmth, and when he goes to fully open his eyes, he has to squint at the harshness of the light, blinking his eyes rapidly to adjust them.
There’s a dull pressure beginning to build behind his eyes, and his face feels sticky with old tears, crusting in the corner of his eyes. It’d been a rough night. Another night filled with nightmares, images of Matt dying in front of him, his skin burning over, entire body lit aflame. Jay squeezes his eyes shut at that, bringing his hands to grasp firmly at Matt’s that sit on his stomach, running a finger softly over the smooth extent of his knuckles.
He remembers shooting out of bed frantically, body moving before his brain, confused and dazed, not sure where he was. He’d curled himself into the corner of the room, breathing erratic, tears streaming down his face, and his hands buried in his hair, tugging lightly. Then, there was someone with him, gently guiding his hands from his hair, and ducking their head to look at him. Matt always treated him like a wounded animal in these moments, and he should’ve been more upset by that—except it felt nice. Matt was here. And he wasn’t upset taking care of him—seemed to be overjoyed with the opportunity if anything.
Matt smiled at him softly, rising to his feet, before bending to lightly pull Jay off the ground. He gently guided him back to the bed, arm slung around his shoulders, and tucked him in carefully, bending down to press a kiss to his temple, and dropping into bed next to him, yanking him from behind into his chest.
“Go to sleep, Jaybird. I’m not going anywhere,” he’d whispered to him, pressing a soft kiss into the base of his neck.
Jay didn’t say anything—didn’t think he could say anything, and just gave a small hum of understanding. He’d stayed awake until he heard Matt’s breath even out, kept a finger pressed against the pulse point at his wrist, just to make sure.
Now, with the light breeze coming through the opened window—chilling his face slightly, he presses against his wrist once more, dread tightening in his stomach, tying his organs into knots. He presses down harder, and lets out a sigh of relief when he feels it. The steady thump thump of Matt’s pulse, pushing lightly against Jay’s finger. He feels a little silly when he gets like this, annoyed at his own brain. He knows Matt’s okay, can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back, the warmth of breath against his skin, but he just has to make sure—just in case.
Pulling his hand back from Matt’s wrist, he takes his arms to stretch them in front of him—as much as he can in their current position, at least—and revels in the cracks of his joints as he pulls them taut. He loves waking up with Matt, he does, but he also gets restless sometimes. Laying in bed too long makes him feel like ants are under his skin, gets him itchy all over, and he has to start moving for the day, or he’ll freak out. He turns carefully, Matt’s hold going slightly slack, rolling over to lay on his back, doing his best to not elbow Matt in the process. He tries to be cautious as he pulls his legs away from Matt’s, but he fails and hears Matt groan lightly next to him. He shuffles slightly, removes one arm from around him, and turns onto his back, leaving an arm to stay behind Jay, and pulls him back into him.
Jay laughs lightly as he’s yanked back into Matt, turning to face him. He curls himself into his side, warmth radiating off of him in waves, and throws an arm around Matt’s waist, laying his chin onto his pec, looking up at him. Matt’s eyes are still closed, but Jay can see a small smirk pulling onto his lips, and he shakes faintly with suppressed laughter.
Jay rolls his eyes fondly, lowers his head to kiss into the center of his chest. “Mornin, Matty,” he whispers softly, running a finger up his side, across the divots of his ribs. Matt shivers at that, cracking an eye open to look at him.
“Morning, Jaybird. How’re you feeling?” he asks hoarsely, voice cracking at the end.
Jay just stares at him for a moment, mentally connecting the moles on his arms to the ones on his chest, to the small one planted on his neck, just below his hair. He’s not sure how he feels, exactly. Better, sure, much better than he did last night, and he’s only improving as the months carry on. Obviously, he still mourns the man he once knew, but he’s growing to love the man before him, too. It almost feels like he’s cheating, sometimes. Like he’s leaving behind the Matt he once knew. He’s stressed this several times to this version of Matt, who only seems to be upset when he shares this information, frown falling on his face, eyes filled with sorrow. He ensures him that no Matt in any universe could be upset at a Jay who’s happy, that all he wants is for him to feel content, no matter the Matt he’s with. He supposes he’d know this best, he is Matt after all, or at least, a Matt. So, he must know what he’s talking about.
Matt watches him as he thinks, eyes filled with thoughtfulness, something Jay’d never imagined as a look befitting for him, especially not directed at him. But, as they’ve aged, Matt’s only mellowed out, filled with a softness that Jay has come to appreciate, especially in their…situation—to say the least. Matt raises a hand, tucks it into the thickest part of his hair, and scratches lightly at his scalp. Jay sighs at that, and drops his head to land at the junction of Matt’s shoulder and neck, laying a soft kiss to the mole there.
“I—I’m not sure how I feel, MJ. Everything’s so weird,” he says to him, nuzzling his head harder into his skin, tightening his grip on Matt’s torso minutely.
Matt hums at that, moves to twirl a strand of Jay’s hair gently through his fingers. “That’s alright, Jaybird. You don’t have to know anything, man. Just know you got me here, okay?” he says to him, shifting lower down the bed to look him in the eyes.
Jay only nods, and pushes himself up to press his lips into Matt’s in a soft kiss. Matt sighs through his nose, making a gentle noise in the back of his throat, and smiles lightly into his lips. He raises his hands to rest against Jay’s face, and he raises his own hand to land on Matt’s shoulder, gripping at it. They continue like that, until Jay’s stomach rumbles loudly, and Matt breaks away, huffing a laugh.
“Hungry, Birdie?” he teases, pushing his hand up Jay’s forehead to move the hair from his face, grinning at him, a playful glint in his eyes. Jay flushes, rolls his eyes at him, and pushes Matt’s face away from him lightly.
“Shut up, we just woke up. Of course I’m hungry,” he whines, turning to flop back on to his other side, facing away from Matt, who coos from behind him, and he can feel as he shifts to be closer to him.
“Aww, Bird. I was just kidding. What do ya want for breakfast, huh? I’ll make anything you want,” he says to him, voice right next to his ear, and he can feel the warmth of air as it passes past.
Jay turns at that, looking up at Matt skeptically. “Anything?” he asks incredulously, eyebrow raised.
“Absolutely anything, Bird. Scouts honor,” Matt says, throwing his right hand across his heart, the other coming to raise next to his head in a mock salute. Jay laughs, pushes himself up to be in a sitting position. Matt scrambles next to him, pulling himself to be sat across from him with his legs tucked beneath himself, hands folded in his lap, awaiting Jay’s response.
Jay pretends to ponder for a moment, has a finger pressed against his chin in mock thought.
“French toast?” he asks shyly, grinning back at Matt.
Matt whistles and shakes his head. “Bird, you put far too much trust in me. Y’know my cooking skills are subpar at best,” he argues, looking a little nervous at the mere prospect.
“C’mon, Matty. Just try, please?” he says, leaning over to grab Matt's hands into his own, looking him in the eye. “For me?” he tacks on at the end, and he sees Matt’s resolve instantly crumble before him. He sighs, drops his shoulders, and cocks his head to the side in defeat.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says, pointing at him accusingly, before he leans forward to kiss him on the nose, and pushes himself off the bed, heading for the door.
Jay watches his retreating back, and flips on his stomach to hide the smile spreading across his face.
—
Jay stumbles his way down the stairs, nearly tripping at the final step, having to catch himself on the railing as his feet hit the ground. He staggers towards the kitchen, running a hand through his hair roughly, and rubs at his eyes, trying to push the final remnants of sleep out. He’s changed, wearing an old Jaws shirt, it’s a little baggy on him—probably Matt’s, and a pair of black sweatpants that hug loosely at his hips.
As he staggers towards the kitchen, he hears the clattering of utensils, and the soft melody of Talking Heads wafting quietly through the air. He crosses the threshold, feet hitting the smooth ceramic floor, cold seeping in through his socks. The kitchen window’s cracked open, allowing for the mid-October breeze to fill the room, lightly blowing the curtains wider. Jay stops, stands leaning against the outline of the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed, and stares at the back of the man before him.
Matt’s standing at the stove, wearing a tight black shirt, a Back to the Future poster plastered on the front. It’s an old shirt he’s probably had since he was fifteen, Jay’s seen him wear it at least a hundred times in the almost three decades he’s known him. Light gray sweatpants hug his hips and thighs, but seemed to become looser as the fabric flowed towards his ankles. He must’ve not pulled his shirt down all the way when rushing to get it on this morning, as it bunches at the bottom, allowing Jay to get a view of the way his lower back fills out, the smooth expanse of the skin just above his tailbone. Matt’s singing quietly to himself, seems to stop and do a little shimmy when he gets to a part of the song he particularly likes. There’s already a sizable stack of French toast sitting on a plate next to him, and Jay’s pleased to see that less than half of it is burned.
Jay smiles to himself, and pushes off the wall, stepping quietly towards Matt. When he reaches him, he wraps his arms around his shoulders, settling his hands against his chest, and sets his head to lay against Matt’s own.
“Looking good, Matty. Told you that you could do it,” he says softly, coming to press a kiss to Matt’s cheek. Matt huffs at that, rolling his eyes, but Jay can see the smile starting to tug at his face. He flips a slice of bread hastily, and then shuffles lightly to face Jay, who keeps his arms wrapped around him. There’s some flour caked onto his shirt, and it’s so disgustingly domestic that Jay almost cries right there from the sight alone.
“Only the best for my Birdie,” he whispers to him, pushing himself up on his tiptoes, pressing his lips carefully against Jay’s, who sighs through his nose at the contact. Matt pulls back, and looks up at him through his lashes. Jay knows he must have a goofy grin on his face, all teeth and love. As they continue to stare at each other, a slight burning smell begins to permeate the air.
Matt jumps lightly, whirling back towards the stove. “Shit,” he hisses out, frantically flipping the toast back over. It has a blackened crust on it, but still looks fairly edible. Jay looks down at him, and sees a small pout pulling at his face. Jay lets go momentarily, moves to slug an arm around Matt’s shoulders instead, and pulls him into his side tightly, rubbing at his arm.
“It’s okay, MJ. Look at all the other ones we’ve still got,” he tells him, pointing at the plate of food sat next to them. Matt sighs, and lays his head onto his shoulder, arms reaching out to turn off the stove. They stand there for a moment, before the radio on the counter clicks, and the track changes to This Must Be the Place, the careful melody filling the silence.
Matt pulls away from him, and steps back. Jay turns to face him, eyebrows raised in curiosity, and he sees him standing there, with a hand out towards him, a shy look on his face. He bites his lip lightly, and sways back and forth on his feet.
“Dance with me, Birdie?” he asks nervously, a slight flush crawling up his face.
Jay hums, smile creeping up his face, and takes Matt’s hand in his own, pulling him in close.
“The pleasure is all mine, Matty,” he says to him, dropping his hands to rest on his waist. Matt’s arms sneak up to wrap around his neck, and he settles his head into Jay’s chest, who drops his own head to rest into his hair.
They idly sway, feet rustling against the floor softly. The opened window cools down the warmed room from Matt’s cooking, wrapping them in a gentle, cool blanket. The French toast was almost certainly going to be cold when they finished, but Jay couldn’t find it in him to care as he closed his eyes, and settled his weight against Matt’s firm frame.