Who: Monte Cameron, Justin Finch-Fletchley What: Two Damaged People Seek Solace in the Dark Night When: 28 January, 2000 (Backdated, set after this exchange) Where: Monte's Flat, Falmouth Warnings: Nightmares, Drinking as a Coping Mechanism, Azkaban/War Feelings
Drinking was not an appropriate coping mechanism. Justin could hear his therapist’s voice telling him. Well, neither was denying what had happened and pretending like everything was okay. That really wasn’t an equivalent, but Justin realized that he didn’t have to do that with Monte, so maybe the very expensive bottle of whisky in his backpack, courtesy of his parents’ liquor cabinet, was more of a celebration rather than coping mechanism.
Or it was just one rather large excuse.
That was too much for Justin to handle, so he pushed all thoughts out of his mind as he knocked on Monte’s front door. Could he just go in? He didn’t know the customs on that, so he erred on the side of being polite and cautious. He wasn’t yet drunk enough for for presumptuous. He had wanted to be able to apparate without splinching himself.
“I brought whisky,” Justin announced as soon as his boyfriend (and that still gave him a little thrill to think about) opened the door. “But I didn’t stop off at any of the off-licenses to pick up snacks. Please tell me you have something better than expired brown sauce.”
Monte found himself pacing his narrow flat, restless since reading Justin's ward and admitting his own sleep woes. Every once in awhile, he would stop, read the lines again, and then he was back in motion once more. The words were burned into the back of his eyelids.
It was really only because he was across the room from the door that it hadn't opened as soon as he heard the telltale crack of Apparition, but it did get yanked open just after that initial knock. He let Justin get inside and closed the door behind him, feeling his hands tremble at the mundane gesture, but didn't let him properly into the room just yet. Reaching up to his shoulders, he pulled Justin's backpack off and set it carefully to one side, not yet ready to answer his very reasonable query.
There was an intensity in his body, in his gaze, that Monte felt powerless to hold in check. He searched Justin's face for even the hint of reluctance before he crowded him back against the door, hands gripping his arms and mouth insistent. There might be an apology in a moment for his actions, but there certainly wouldn't be any regrets.
Monte didn’t even greet him properly, but Justin found that he didn’t mind all that much. The kiss was insistent and full of something that they both needed. Justin let himself be crowded against the door, heartbeat pounding in his ears as his hands seemed unsure of what to do at first, finally settling on Monte’s sides.
“I’m a little drunk,” Justin admitted, a little breathless, once they finally broke apart. “Not much, because apparition, but enough to make me braver than I really am.”
Because he could, Justin reached out and pulled Monte back toward him, stealing another kiss.
It was Monte's turn to pull away this time, however much he didn't really want to. But Justin had admitted that he was under the influence, and Monte had firm tenets in place regarding consent. That didn't exactly keep him from kissing the underside of the other wizard's jaw before leaning away. “Sorry,” he said, a little dazed. “Kinda figured we both could use that.”
He retrieved Justin's backpack and walked over to set it on his couch, before turning back and offering him a somewhat shy smile. “So...hi. And, yes, I actually have food on hand. Isla came over last week and all but dragged me to the store. It's almost like a real, functioning adult lives here now. Will wonders never cease. What would you care for? I seem to have a bit of everything.”
Despite Justin’s best intentions, a little whine of disappointment escaped. That didn’t mean Monte wasn’t wrong, however. Justin certainly wasn’t ready for whatever might come next. Maybe a break was a good thing. “Uhhh...crisps?” Crisps and ridiculously expensive whisky sounded like a brilliant pairing.
He wasn’t sure what to do with a shy Monte, but Justin decided that he might as well take the lead this time. He picked up his backpack and placed it on the table, taking out the bottle. “For us to share.”
Monte had to make himself take another step back after hearing that small sound, because his resolve was already on treacherously crumbling ground as it was. He took in a couple of breaths as he crossed the small space to retrieve a bag of crisps, some crackers and a block of some fancy cheese that his sister had recommended, along with a couple of glasses.
“All right, two things: one- you don’t have to knock. Chances are, it’ll be unlocked if I’m expecting you, and I’ll try to be decent. I mean, if you catch me in my altogether, well, it might be embarrassing, sure, but I won’t exactly be sad. And, two, while you’re in my flat, you’re free to make yourself comfortable. Have a nice sprawl on the couch, kick off your shoes, whatever. You don’t have to stand on ceremony around here, especially not for me.”
Justin looked around the space for a moment before slowly pulling his shoes off, kicking them lightly until they sat just beside the doorway and out of the way. He nodded, not really sure of what to say to that, apparently being brave and taking the lead didn’t last very long. Instead, he busied himself by cracking the bottle open and pouring them each a healthy amount. “Got it. Mostly.” He’d grown up in an environment where privacy was always valued and knocking, no matter the person or time of day, was expected.
“Drink?” Justin held out one of the glasses, eyeing the crisps hungrily. It wasn’t exactly what one ate with fine alcohol, but who was going to judge him? Monte? He was the one who humored Justin in the first place by fetching them out of the cupboard or wherever he had been keeping them. “And if I’m catching you in your altogether,” he successfully restrained himself from making air quotes at that, “expect a wolf whistle. Or a poor attempt a wolf whistle.”
Shooting Justin an amused grin, Monte darted in for a quick kiss- dangerously addicting- and then settled in next to him on the couch. He handed the crisps over in exchange for the whiskey, and then closed his eyes at the initial burn of it going down. “They still don't quite make it the same in the other world, do they.”
It wasn't really a question, just an observation. He gazed down at his glass, now resting on his thigh, and pushed out a quiet sigh. Justin had come over for a reason, and there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. “I think the last time I remember having any kind of dreams, it was a two or three months after… I got out of Azkaban. Isla was the one who took me to a healer, and they started me on the sleeping draughts. It was just supposed to be temporary, but every time I tried to stop taking it, they just came back- the nightmares- except they seemed so much worse.”
He reached up to scrub the back of his neck with his free hand; he hadn't been able to look at Justin yet. Now that he was saying it out loud, he was just embarrassed, mortified, really. It all sounded like a pathetic cry for sympathy, but he felt like it was important for Justin to know, and maybe not to feel so alone. “I stopped going to the healer, but I learned how to make the potion on my own. I haven't stopped taking it since. I'm probably being stubborn or something, but… I can't help but feel that others had it worse than I did, so why bother anyone with some stupid nightmares, y'know?”
For a moment or two Justin was much more interested in the crisps, eagerly breaking them open and popping a few in his mouth. Now that his initial hunger had been satiated, he let his body relax into the strangely comfortable couch. If it ate his wand, he couldn't be too bothered. He didn't speak for several moments, taking in Monte's words. "You remember the basilisk incident, right?" Of course he had to. It had been his sixth year to Justin's second. "They didn't tell my parents." Justin revealed quietly.
At the time he had been glad, attempting to hide it from his parents the first couple of weeks over summer holidays. It hadn't lasted long. His father had been home that summer and they spent the nights watching old movies until the truth had been teased out of him. He had gotten counseling, with a heavily redacted story, for the first time. That following September he'd gone off to Hogwarts with a brand new prescription that he didn't always to take because he didn't like how they made him feel, especially with dementors surrounding the castle.
He shifted until they were touching from hip to knee. "It was shite for everyone. Don't make yourself a martyr if you don't have to."
Unable to help himself, Monte stared at Justin, openly aghast. “They didn't tell-" he cut himself off, because it had come out much louder than he intended. He gripped his glass until his hand was white-knuckled, and simply tried to breathe through the sudden indignation-fueled rage that pounded in his ears. It took a second or two, but he managed to push it down, and went on much more calmly. “Did they ever find out about it? Your parents?”
His arm went automatically around Justin's shoulders when he moved in closer, fingers curling almost protectively against the curve of the opposite one. He chewed on his lower lip as he considered what his boyfriend was saying, some part of him bristling at the idea of thinking of himself as a martyr, because that was his furthest intention. For all that he had opened up before, Monte simply shrugged a shoulder and said, “I know, and I'm not, really. Last thing I want to do is be the poster child for some cause.”
They were all poster children, Justin wanted to point out. They had taken a stand in pink, but maybe that was different. There was a group of them, someone to take the limelight when it got to be too much. So instead he simply shrugged and leaned into Monte.
“Yeah. Yes.” Justin corrected himself automatically. “My dad got it out of me that summer while watching a bunch of old movies and things went on from there. That was the first time I got the sleeping pills.” But not the last. Justin sipped his whisky, but really didn’t taste the alcohol. He only could feel the slight burn down his throat. “I’m surprised they let me go back, if I’m honest.” Maybe his parents should have. He could have been sent to school elsewhere, made up some story about where he was for two years. But the chance for that was long gone. There was no way that he could pretend to be a muggle now. Speaking of….
“Did you know there’s a chance that I might not be muggleborn? Or at least that I could be a fallen branch from a wizarding family tree?”
There seemed to be a lot of thoughtful silences between them, and Monte's was filled with memories of that year, and the nebulous fear that built to a fever pitch with each subsequent attack. He hadn't known Justin then, other than him being in his house, but news of what had happened had come as a shock. It wasn't surprising to think of himself as a potential target when the commonality of the victims became clear. When he wasn't on the pitch or in class, he was always in their common room and never by himself. He almost smiled when he thought of Alec Urquhart, his very own voice of reason, calling for calmer heads to prevail.
But Justin hadn't had that. Justin had had nothing.
A shudder went through him at the thought, because in that instant Monte was back in his cell, curled up in the dark and cold, with nothing but the Dementors whispering their insidious truths in his head. All the terrible things you've done. No one loves you. No one wants you. No one will miss you. This is your forever now. You deserve to be here, and you know it.
The memory didn't last long, maybe just the space of a breath, but that breath shook in his chest, and he had to blink hard to keep the sting out of his eyes. Monte tossed back the last of his whiskey, and then immediately poured himself another. “You've probably heard it a million times, but I'm so sorry,” he said quietly. “Insomuch that it's the least helpful sentiment ever, but I really wish you could have been spared it.”
It took a moment for Justin's last remarks to register with him, to resolve into anything like meaning. When they did, he paused only briefly to consider if this information changed any of his current feelings for the other man, burgeoning though they were, and found they did not.
“Yeah? How'd you come to that?”
Justin didn’t want to talk about his being petrified or his participation in the war. It always dragged up memories and feelings that he’d rather not remember. His new mystery was…. he wasn’t really sure, but it was certainly less emotionally taxing. Or something. “The Burns party someone came up to me and commented on my tie. It was the same clan's tartan. That's why I went to New Register House." Now that he said it aloud, Justin realized how ridiculous and far fetched it sounded.
Throwing back what was left of his drink, Justin wordlessly held out his glass so Monte could fill it as he had the bottle last. "I don't know if it means anything. It probably doesn't." He shrugged.
His brow knit together even as Monte poured another drink, trying to remember details of that night. He'd seen Justin speak to several people, but now he began to wonder… “It wasn't Maggie, was it?” He sipped a little more judiciously at this one, but it was mostly to hide his growing smile. “There are definitely far worse people to potentially be related to. She's well braw, she is.”
He let his fingers draw idle patterns against Justin's shoulder, and his mouth went a bit tight at the corners. All he seemed to be doing was throwing out useless aphorisms, and it was frustrating. He was new to this whole boyfriend thing, and couldn't help but feel like he was somehow failing. “Even if it doesn't, isn't it better to know? Maybe you have a whole clan full of people who would love to meet a long lost relative.”
Justin didn’t know what braw meant, but he nodded anyway. It sounded good, the way Monte said it. “I doubt it. That’s rarely how it works. For me anyway.” It had been the story of his life. Too Korean for his father’s Scottish relatives. Too British for his mother’s family in Hong Kong. Too muggle for the wizarding society. Too magical for the muggles. Justin had learned to not get his hopes up on that front. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to know, just in case.
The whisky was doing its job, however, as Justin’s body relaxed further and he slid to the side slightly, leaning more heavily on Monte’s shoulder. He liked the little flat, especially at night, just the two of them. He could pretend that the rest of the world was far away and he wouldn’t have to think about what lay in wait for them.
Setting his glass on his knee, Justin closed his eyes, using his other hand to unconsciously mimic the patterns Monte was drawing on his shoulder on his boyfriend’s knee.
Unable to help the frown that pulled at his lips, Monte considered Justin’s profile in silence for a few seconds. Something nebulous- so nascent that it couldn’t rightly be named or labeled, because it was just the merest notion of a feeling- passed through his chest as he looked at the way the other man’s dark lashes brushed the top of his cheeks and the curve of his nose, the shape of his lips. That feeling gripped him harder, made him feel suddenly a little light headed and giddy.
“How could anyone not want to know you?” he whispered hoarsely.
As Justin shifted closer to him, Monte accommodated his own body to allow for a more comfortable surface, the movement not entirely conscious. He smiled faintly down at the hand on his knee, and was suddenly aware that this was the most comfortable that he could ever remember being in a long time. He bit his lip, because he almost hated to say anything, but he knew he had to put the offer out there. “You can stay the night, if you’d like. I’d really like it if you would.”
Only two groups had accepted him readily. His yearmates in Hufflepuff and the muggleborn group that had formed around the Pink Movement. "When you look like I do. When you're a muggleborn like we are. It's hard to straddle two worlds and not fit in either." The alcohol was making the words slip out easier than they normally would, but Justin could not bring himself to care.
He swapped his glass to his other hand only to reach over and pat Monte across the stomach, which shortly crossed over into copping a feel. Yes, this was really here and this really belonged to someone that not only he wanted to kiss, but who wanted to kiss him back. "I want to stay the night. But you're going to need a bigger bed."
It killed Monte not to be able to simply dismiss what Justin was saying, to tell him that there was no way it could be true. But he wasn’t that naive, and it would be hurtful of him to even try, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. He tightened his hold around Justin’s shoulders, and was tempted to haul him into his lap to just kiss away that pain- or at least lessen it. Instead, he pressed his lips to Justin’s temple and held them there, hoping to convey his apologies that way.
Monte was just about to chuckle at being patted when his breath hitched as Justin’s touch became something else altogether. He cleared his throat, but all that came out was a barely intelligible, “...charms…” before he tried to string words together again. “I can charm it larger. Or the couch. Or I can transfigure the couch when you come over? Or all the time. I can keep it transfigured. All the time.”
He was rambling, and couldn’t seem to make himself stop.
To his credit, or maybe not, Justin had absolutely no idea about the effect he was having on his boyfriend. That was probably just as well. If he got too in his head he'd start feeling self-conscious and would question himself. No, it was much better to lower his inhibitions and blame any and all of his actions on the whisky. "That's effort," he complained, shifting against Monte until he was more comfortable.
"I also didn't bring anything. To wear." He gestured lazily at where his backpack sat, discarded. "But the bed. I want to sleep with you." Justin wasn't thinking about how his words came out. He was warm, comfortable, and for once, relaxed. He was not thinking about what happened yesterday or what would happen tomorrow. "You can keep it however you want."
Until Justin got him something better. But that could be tomorrow. Or the day after next.
Through sheer force of will, and remembering that Justin was not exactly in a position where his decision making skills were above doubt, Monte talked himself back from the ledge where his Id was telling him to run with his boyfriend’s suggestion to a most favorable (and undoubtedly pleasurable) conclusion. Instead, he let his arm slip down around Justin’s waist, now that the other man was practically lying on his chest, and retrieved his wand to do some expanding charms and slight transfiguration work to the bed in the little alcove.
The result wasn’t exactly the prettiest thing ever, but at least it was bigger and more comfortable, and afforded them a place to lay down together. “I have things you can wear,” Monte said quietly, wondering just how close the other man was to sleep. Another flick of his wand brought an old Pride t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants from beneath the bed to his waiting hand. “Why don’t you get changed, then we can get some sleep, yeah?”
Justin hid a yawn by turning his head against his shoulder. He took the shirt and sleep pants from Monte. They were sharing clothes. They were going to be too big for him. That was besides the point. "Don't go anywhere." Leaning over to kiss Monte briefly, Justin pushed himself up into a standing position, only slightly unsteady on his feet. At least he didn't fall flat on his face. Win.
A few minutes later he was changed, clothes folded neatly under his arm. He'd had to fold the bottom of the sleep pants, which was a little ridiculous, but judging by the amount of space between the bathroom and the bed he wasn't going to have to walk very far. Dropping his clothes by his backpack he wondered if he should take the sleeping pills he'd brought with him. He'd been drinking and he was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to mix the two. He'd chance it. Justin looked back at Monte. "Your turn. If you want it."
Unable to keep the dumb grin from his face, Monte sat there for a few seconds, eyes settled on the closed door, before remembering that it might be a good idea for him to change as well. Since Justin was in the loo, he figured he would have enough time to get into his sleep pants and into bed before it was vacated. As it would turn out, he figured wrong and mistimed it pretty badly. He’d- fortunately- already managed the pants, when Justin emerged, however, his shirt was halfway over his head, muffling his hearing, so he didn’t hear his boyfriend at all until he’d tugged it all the way off.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Justin behind him, and froze. A beat. Another one. And then he lowered his arms and pulled them free of the sleeves before tossing the shirt to a hamper in the corner. He had to swallow before speaking, because of the sight that Justin made, wearing his things. When his voice came out, it was low, rough. “Nah, I’m all right.” He gestured toward the bed. “Shall we?”
When presented with the opportunity, Justin wasn't going to miss the chance to oogle. And oogle he did, enjoying the way Monte's muscles moved across his back. The view only got better when his boyfriend turned around. He had to clench his fists to not reach out and cop another feel. That's what the bed was for. Speaking of, he looked over at the bed. "What side do you prefer?" Justin cracked a little and he tried to cover it up with a cough. Because this was real. This was becoming a real thing.
Justin shuffled over and looked at Monte, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, because if this was going to happen some things probably should be cleared up. "I want to sleep with you, but not sex. At least not tonight. Maybe soon?" He gave a little shrug, trying to play it off like it didn't matter. "Because tonight is probably not a good night."
“No preference,” was Monte’s immediate and honest response. “I’m usually all over the place. Not restless, exactly, just never been much for sleeping in one particular spot.” He shrugged a shoulder, face still burning- first from embarrassment, and then from the way that Justin was looking at him. There was a part of him that wanted to hide, wanted to cover up again; this was the little voice that told him that he was still that sickly, pale shadow of his former self that had stumbled out of a prison cell on legs that could barely support him, with ribs that stuck out a little too much from his chest, and a face that had gone hollow, haunted.
That voice could go to hell.
He was pulled from those insidious thoughts when Justin moved closer, and Monte felt his brows contract in confusion at the shyness in the line of the other man’s shoulders. Understanding dawned, however, and his face burned for another reason altogether. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist in a loose hold. “No, no, I get that. I do. Just sleep. Promise.” Monte closed the distance between them and kissed him once. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
Justin nodded slowly. "Like a rock, me." He molded himself against Monte's slightly larger frame, whispering, "You don't have to be too gentlemanly." He wasn't sure why he whispered, they were the only two people in the room. Nobody else was going to overhear. But it felt right and he wasn't sure he could speak any louder than that.
"Bed?"Justin tugged Monte down until they were both sitting down, the covers already thrown back. He had no idea what he was doing, but it felt right. Now if he could only recreate the feeling they had back on the couch. He found himself sitting with his legs crossed, feet tucked under his legs before they could catch cold. "Can I hold you this time?" he asked, voice tentative.
Monte had just enough time to push up the back of his/Justin’s shirt and skate his fingertips across the small of his back before being directed toward his bed. It felt like being back on the couch, except for completely different, and Monte waited for Justin’s cues. A shiver ran through him at Justin’s question, and he did nothing to try to hide it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Please.”
He turned and shifted around until he was lying on his back, one arm crooked behind his head so that he could still see Justin. Every inch of him was a picture of unintentional invitation.
Like being back on the couch yet being completely different summed up how sitting there felt. Shifting up onto his knees, Justin looked down at Monte as he laid out, completely open. A surge of want coursed through him, but he had to tamp it down. As he said earlier, tonight was not the night. Still, it was nice to look.
Justin slid down and to the side, hovering over Monte for a moment before slotting himself up against his boyfriend's body. Slinging his arm over Monte's midsection, he just took a deep breath to settle himself. "Thank you."
There was a moment- just a fraction of a second- as Justin was kneeling over him, when Monte felt a tiny gasp leave his suddenly parted lips, felt his heart give an odd little lurch in his chest. The sensation was cut mercifully short, because Justin moved again, finally coming over to lay against him. He smiled down at Justin’s arm, and reached over to settle his hand atop the other man’s forearm. “You’re welcome,” evidently it was his turn to whisper. “Anytime, really.”
There was still a light on in the small kitchen area, but it flickered off after he murmured, “Nox.”
---
He didn't know where he was. Just that he should run. His lungs burnt with the exertion, sweat dripping down into his eyes. Hairs prickled at the back of his neck. Something was coming in the grass behind him.
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes
Something, a rock maybe a loose root, had him stumbling forward and the darkness enveloped him. He couldn't see. He couldn't move. Could he breathe? Justin couldn't be sure. He tried to yell out, but just like his other senses they had been stolen from him.
Justin opened his mouth to scream, to shout, to make any noise whatsoever, but nothing but a strangled gasp came out. So this was it. He was going to die not with a shout but a whimper.
The fetid smell of death was upon him and there was nothing Justin could do.
---
It was discomfort that pulled Monte awake, a tightening pressure against his side and along his chest. Since sleep was still muffling his thoughts, it took him a few seconds to realize where it was coming from, that there was an arm across him, and fingers digging painfully into his ribs. He then became aware of Justin’s breath against his shoulder, harsh and ragged. In the ambient light from the street outside his window, he could barely make out Justin’s face, the rapid way his eyes were fluttering behind closed lids.
Another nightmare.
Monte bit his lip, felt a swell of sadness, of sympathy, so strong that he almost choked on it. He reached up and started running his hand soothingly up and down Justin’s arm, trying to coax him out of it or maybe awake. “I’m here,” he whispered into the dark, not even caring when his voice cracked. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me, Justin. It’s okay.”
He could feel hands on him and reflexively Justin struck out and attempted to scramble backwards. All while enveloped in the fog of half-sleep, the last vestiges of the latest nightmare still clinging to him. The only problem is that he quickly ran out of bed and found himself on the floor. Knocking the wind out of himself was just enough to wake him up fully. From the floor, Justin blinked owlishly, looking up at Monte.
"Why am I on the floor?" Justin ran a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to have a conversation in the middle of the night. The concerned look on Monte's face told him everything soon enough. "It was another nightmare," his stated, voice flat. Shame began to creep over him, despite their conversations earlier that night. The buzz of alcohol had long since worn off, just leaving his head vaguely painful and his body even more tired.
"I'm so sorry."
In the flurry of what happened, Monte never even had a chance to try to catch Justin as he fell, too dazed and frankly stunned by the sudden pain in his jaw from where the heel of the other man’s hand had caught him just so. He shifted so that he was halfway leaning off his bed, trying to check to see if Justin was all right. He managed to keep from rubbing at his jaw, but only just barely, and distantly wondered if he still had bruise paste on hand.
Not important. What was important was the look that crossed over Justin’s face, and the awful tone his voice took. Monte slid off the bed until he was kneeling next to Justin, and reached down to take his face in his hand. “Hey, no, don’t be, okay? It happens. It’s awful, but it happens. C’mon back up here, yeah? We can get in a few more hours.”
Justin’s shoulders slumped down. He was tired and embarrassed and he really should have taken those pills. Glancing over at the table, he sighed and stood up to fetch them. He tossed them back dry, wincing as the pills went down hard, but they didn’t come back up. He should have done that earlier, but there was no changing that now.
“Sorry,” he apologized again, returning back to the bed, eyes narrowing when he saw how Monte was holding his head. “I flailed out and caught you, didn’t I?”
When Justin got up, so did Monte, although he sank down on the edge of his bed again, watching his boyfriend carefully. He couldn’t say anything about the pills. That would have been hypocritical. He was, however, silently glad that they hadn’t been taken earlier, when who knows how they may have interacted with the booze. He waved off Justin’s second apology with a wave of his hand, and a shake of his head.
His jaw gave a small throb of pain, almost just a reminder, but it was receding quickly. “It was an accident. It’s fine, promise. Doesn’t even hurt. Had so much worse on the pitch.” He suppressed a yawn with some difficulty, and turned to lay back down. “Let’s just get back to sleep, okay?”
Justin gave a soft huff, because he didn't quite believe him, but he was not about to have an argument at God only knew in the morning. He crawled back into bed, following Monte, and tried settle back into an their approximate positions. It didn't feel right and certainly didn’t feel the same, but he willed himself to ignore it. Monte was not making a big deal so why should he?
Biting back another apology, Justin merely kissed Monte’s exposed shoulder. “Night,” he mumbled mid-yawn. Despite how tired his body felt, he knew sleep would not come easy, but once it did it would be dreamless.
Despite himself, despite the entire screwed up situation, Monte smiled in the darkness. He trailed his fingers lazily up the arm that was once more across his stomach, slow, soothing. The action bled some of the tension from his own body, and he could feel sleep beginning to tug at him again.
“I'm here,” he whispered again, caught in that liminal space between awake and asleep, not even quite fully aware he was saying it. “You're safe. It's okay. I'm not going anywhere.”
Justin made a sound that vague resembled a grunt. Or colorful cursing. It could have gone either way. “Shut up and sleep.” Maybe sleep wasn’t so far away after all. He was comfortable and despite his grumbling he knew he was safe, here and now, with Monte.