It was going to be one of those nights… Tim was sure of it, long before lids started sagging and an active effort was made by the man to make it to the bedroom instead of conking out on the couch. He could see in Jason's posture, in the way his eyes looked flat and far too tired as he climbed in through the balcony entryway, and his shoulders sagged with exhaustion, more mental than physical. He said nothing regarding it, knowing that if he did it would be more hassle than it was worth, that Jason would only get defensive, perhaps even lash out, only to regret it later.
Instead he went about the remainder of the night in a normal fashion. Draped Jason's dropped jacket upon the coat rack, frowned as he placed the mud caked boots discarded in the middle of the kitchen back by the balcony doors, and made the man some decaf tea. He never asked about his night, seldom ever did, and instead turned the television straight to the first action flick he ran across. It didn't matter that they had seen it a dozen times, or that it had started twenty minutes ago as he knew neither of them would be paying attention, and it was unlikely that they would make it to the end anyway.
And they hadn't.
It took quite the effort to convince Jason that it was most definitely time for sleep, even when he could hardly keep his eyes open, or head up straight. Most nights their roles were reversed but this was not at all a first for either of them. After ten minutes of slurred bickering Jason accepted defeat and had allowed Tim to escort him to the bed, not even bothering to protest at being manhandled out of his body armor, or bitch at Tim as he rolled his eyes at his scrunched up face.
Nights like these Jason refused bodily contact as they slept, and as hard as it was, Tim respected his wishes. These nights Tim slept lightly if at all, laying on his side, watching the rise and fall of the man's flank as he breathed, drifting off into an exhausted slumber. Jason lay on the opposite side of the bed, quite near the edge, tucked into a ball he was sure could not be the slightest bit comfortable. It became a habit, waking after dozing off, to reach out and touch him in the dark, making sure he was still there. Early on in their roughly established relationship he wouldn't have been...
At times the man would be too tense, edging gradually into a dream none too pleasant, and he would find himself lazily carding a hand through Jason's hair to ease it back into the dark depths of his mind. Most times it worked… if he woke in time to work is magic.
Other times, like now, he was startled awake by the jerking, the yelps, and heart hammering in his chest as he moved blindly he had to dodge kicks and flying fists to shake the man awake. He would carry bruises, proof of the night's terrors, in the morning. He would hear the unnecessary apologies and sigh as he insisted that the man had done nothing wrong. And Jason would beat himself up over it as he made breakfast much to Tim's protest. But for now he chanted comforting words as Jason's eyes snapped open, pupils contracted in terror, as he pulled himself out of whatever bad place he had been in until he had been rescued. He curled up against the man's chest, pressed their foreheads together, and held him tight, rubbing his back in a soothing manner as he struggled to take in oxygen.
Eventually, as Jason's heart rate slowed and he was able to breathe again, he was pushed away, shooed embarrassedly back to his half of the bed as the man cocooned himself amongst the blankets once more.
And Tim complied with his wishes, knowing he did this in hopes of avoiding causing harm by creating some distance, only allowing the shared bed at all due to his previous complaints and worries about the matter. Tim knew he would not fall back into a deep sleep, too filled with worry that the nightmare would pick up right where it left off, and he would have to coax Jason awake once more to be fully relaxed.
But it was a small price to pay for this closeness they now managed to share.