Jonathan Sims

Martin holds on firmly until John finally pulls away, seeming utterly wrung out. When he begins talking Martin can't hide a slight grimace; as if John has any business apologizing for any of this, as if only one of them at a time were allotted space to be a mess.

"John," he says softly, reaching up to frame his face, his thumbs brushing gently at a few more tears. "It's not backwards. You're allowed to—to feel this way." Christ knows he's been a wreck over John's own near-death experiences, even if the circumstances have been a bit different. "It's not like you have to be okay just because it didn't happen to you. We take care of each other, right? Taking care of you, it... it helps me feel normal."

Of course the reverse is probably true, and John does still deserve an answer to his question. He holds John's gaze a moment then leans up to kiss him, slow and delicate. "I just need to be with you," he murmurs. "T-to know we're okay." Because it is we; he doesn't have the wherewithal to pretend they don't need each other, that either of them would be remotely okay if they lost the other. It may not be entirely healthy, but he really doesn't care. After all it took for them to get here, he thinks he's allowed to feel however the hell he wants.

"Can we have a lie-down?" he asks, still pulled quite close.