statement_ends | Reprise

It hadn't exactly shocked John when Martin had prepackaged his commentary about feeling a little under the weather with some determination to make it into work the following day. He knows that Martin would haul himself into the Archive so long as he was capable, regardless of whether it was particularly wise or not. Christ knows he's done it before.

But things are different, now, which is to say that John is now free to nip that sort of nonsense in the bud. If Martin's ill enough for it to be noticeable at bedtime, then there's no need for the pageantry of setting the alarm, getting up early, and butting heads over whether one or both of them ought to go in. Instead, John silences his own alarm — more of a reminder to let Kat, Eliot, and Daisy know that neither of them will be in today than a signal to get out of bed — and lets Martin sleep.

And sleep Martin does (with a bit of congested snoring, which is both adorable and all the validation John requires), until John gets a bit bored of just sitting up in bed and rises to make himself some tea. That accomplished, he engages in some quiet puttering: pulling out a fresh box of kleenex, gathering all the assorted cold medications he can find for easy access, and clearing the coffee table so it can be used as a staging ground for whatever Martin needs. He finds himself smiling as he works, small but genuine. He's not glad that Martin's taken ill, of course, but he'd be lying if he claimed not to enjoy doting on him, and a mild illness provides an excellent excuse.

And unlike last time, there's no need for miserably polite restraint. He's going to spoil Martin rotten, so help him.

For the moment, that just means making a few simple preparations while trying not to wake him. But he leaves the kettle on low, for whenever Martin should decide to join him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Martin raises an eyebrow, surprised and intrigued by that last remark. He would never have thought of this as something he wanted outside these circumstances — the idea would have been prohibitively mortifying had he not been so exhausted and pitiful. And it had been wonderful, but he still hadn't expected it was going to become a standing offer.

But that's... It's really nice, he thinks. He smiles to himself, sheepish and warm, as he turns it over in his mind. He's still smiling as he takes John's hand, grunting softly as he picks himself up, wrapping himself in his towel. He's a little shaky, and moving even slower than before, contentment on top of illness.

"Yeah," he says belatedly, and peeks up at John before moving to gingerly dry his hair. He's so lucky to have this, to have John, to have the time and energy between them to find things like this. An ever-increasing wealth of ways in which to share space, to care for each other. Right now, sleepy and warm and clumsy, he feels nearly overcome with it. "Th-that'd be really nice."

John stays close for a minute, wanting to make sure Martin's steady on his feet before he steps away. But once Martin reemerges from toweling off his hair, John sneaks a quick little kiss to his forehead, murmuring a low, "Don't go anywhere," before retreating to the bedroom. He fetches some pants and loose joggers — much like what Martin had been wearing before, but clean, at least — and then, on impulse, grabs his own bathrobe off its hook. Martin isn't really in the habit of borrowing it, running warmer than John ever does, but he has turned to it for its combined powers of comfort and self-indulgence once or twice before, and now seems as good a time for that as any.

John returns to the bathroom, setting Martin's clothes on the counter and then holding out the bathrobe in much the same way as he might help Martin don his coat. "I think the situation calls for it," he says.

Martin stays put as instructed, pulling the towel close around himself and tucking his chin down to hide the warmth of his smile and accompanying blush. He waits, not so much patient as too dazed and tired to think much of anything, so that he's almost startled when John returns.

He blinks at the robe in John's hands before his grin returns, equal parts sheepish and delighted. "Mkay," he murmurs, and gives himself a final sluggish toweling off before reaching for the clothes John brought. "I s'pose it does."

He dresses himself as quickly as he can under the circumstances, which is not saying much, before turning and allowing John to help him into the bathrobe. It's warm and soft and a little too long for him, and he lets out a shy giggle as he all but burrows into it. It's so nice. This, all of this, has been so nice — far nicer than the circumstances seemed to allow. He lifts his hands, obscured by the overlong sleeves, then wraps them around John, pulling himself close for a hug. All but melting against him.

"G'night," he announces.

It seems that grabbing the bathrobe was a good impulse, and John grins as Martin snuggles himself into it. He has a few moments to just enjoy the view — the too-long sleeves are a particularly endearing detail — before Martin pulls him close, and he returns the embrace with a low chuckle.

"Time for a nap, then," he says, as much an agreement as a question, before nestling a kiss in the tousled mess of Martin's hair. "Bed, or couch?"

"Mmmmbed," he mumbles, muffled against John's chest. He only just came from there, but at this level of decadence, the couch just seems silly. "And maybe..."

He almost catches himself, a little embarrassment seeping through the cracks in the coziness, but he stifles them stubbornly. "Maybe you could read more," he suggests in a sheepish little voice. "If you wouldn't mind."

John grins outright at the request. "I think we could manage that."

Martin hasn't requested anything specific, but as far as book choices go, the answer seems rather obvious. John hasn't actually picked up Watership Down since the last time Martin was ill — not because he wasn't curious to know what happened next, but because carrying on without Martin's involvement hadn't... well, it hadn't felt right, or held much appeal. He probably could have suggested they continue the read-along for no other reason than the enjoyment of it, but it never felt important enough to outweigh the embarrassment of making such a belated request in the first place.

But now, with Martin both making the suggestion and providing such an excellent excuse, it's easy to just look forward to it. "Let's get you settled," he says, keeping an arm curled around him for both comfort and support as he guides him back into the bedroom. Once Martin's comfortably situated on the bed, John doubles back to the living room, where he plucks Watership Down off the shelf. Then he returns to Martin's side, settling himself in bed and then lifting his arm in invitation. "Come on, then," he coaxes with a warm, easy smile.

Martin grins and curls up close under John's arm, letting his head settle upon his chest. Symptoms are creeping back in and he's already starting to feel a bit sniffly again, but there is still overwhelming warmth and comfort and contentment surrounding him, leaving him happy and relaxed.

John starts to read, and Martin starts to drift along with the pleasant rumble of his deep voice. He doubts he'll be able to keep awake for long, but there won't be any nightmares this time.

Reprise

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject