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Summary
Alex wakes in the middle of the night, confused and in pain; John wants to help, Alex doesn't know what he's doing and hurts his husband in the process, and, overwhelmed and scared, ends up in his father's bed instead.
Come next morning, Alex can think clearly again and has to make amends.Series
- Part 13 of Thin Ice 'Verse
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literally THE lams series oml <3333
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😭😭😭
And that was when a cloud that had partially obscured the moon slipped away, and a little more light illuminated the room. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for John to see the glint in his husband’s eyes for what it was–a film of tears.
John pushed himself upright immediately and reached for Alex, his chest tight with the realisation his husband had sat alone in the dark for who knew how long, suppressing the tears probably caused by another of his horrible nightmares, just to let him sleep.
Alex flinched away from his touch and pulled his knees closer to his chest, like a fucking shield, as if he thought he had to put something between himself and John. His hand dropped back into the sheets, a fresh fracture in his heart.
“Don’t,” Alex said, so small it didn’t even register as a command with John, it sounded like more of a plea.
It wasn’t like him to speak this clipped. This blunt. Especially not to John–and with a flash, he realised what was going on.
“You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question, but he took Alex’s answering silence as confirmation, anyway. “What- where? What’s hurting, do we need to find a medic?”
“God, is it really so hard for you to shut up and leave me alone?”
Oh.
The silence rang in his ears, and John swallowed, cut his eyes away from Alexander so he wouldn’t see the tears that shot to them almost instantly.
“I can go,” he said in a whisper, even though he wasn’t sure where he would even go.
A pause. “No.”
John held his breath, hoping the next words out his mouth would be along the lines of I don’t want you to go or even just don’t leave, because he didn’t really want to go anywhere, he didn’t want to leave him all on his own in the state he was in, not even if he kept saying hurtful things that made John want to cry-
“I’ll go.”
Oh.
“Tell me what’s wrong, love,” he said–an order, but a gentle one. He had to tread carefully.
“Hurts,” was the stifled response, almost lost to his heaving sobs, and George’s blood ran cold.
He was hurt.
In the middle of the night?
“I was so mean to him,” he sobbed and turned his face fully into his chest in an attempt to quieten himself. “He- he’s so sweet, he just wanted to help, and I was horrible, I- I-”
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be,” he cut in and craned his neck to press a short kiss to the top of his son’s head.
“I told him to shut up and then I just left,” he said directly into his shirt, muffled by the fabric and his never-ending tears.
Well. “Nothing is perfect all the time. Every marriage has its rough patches, you just have to apologise and work together to mend this.”
“How did you meet my mother?”
George frowned, and the soothing motion of his fingers in Alex’s hair stilled without him meaning it to; an unhappy whine snapped him back to movement.
“Have I never told you that?”
Alex sniffled and shook his head as best he could, but didn’t answer otherwise.
“Huh, then it’s about time I did, I suppose,” he said and fell silent for a moment or two. He had to take some time to puzzle all the fuzzy details back into order–that had been… twenty-two, almost twenty-three years ago, after all, and as he began to recall everything that had transpired on Nevis back then, it became very clear to him why he’d never told Alex.
“I… might have broken her husband’s nose in a bar-fight.”
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