Tender Touch

By

Kelsey

Disclaimer: Not mine. Promise. WaT belongs to CBS and a bunch of other people.

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a sexy PWP. And then it turned into this. Huh.

Summary: Danny needs someone to hold him, and Martin finds himself learning to enjoy touch. DM slash, post- 5.01

Rating: PG

There's a hesitancy in Danny's gaze that Martin doesn't see too often anymore when he shows up at his door at 4am the night after they'd successfully found the kidnapped little boy. He was a little surprised, because it was Sam that Martin thought had felt the emotional brunt of the case, though kidnappings, and especially ones associated with pedophiles, were extremely hard on all of them.

But Danny has been seeking out Martin for several years now, when he's feeling low, and Martin has never turned him away. Even if he's exhausted and dreaming fitfully in black and white nightmares, he's not going to turn a distraught-looking Danny away from his door, and as he opens it and pulls Danny inside, he expects to see the hesitancy fade. It doesn't, though, and Martin walks Danny over to the couch and shoves him down on it. "What is it?" he asks, his voice gravelly with sleep and a little short with exhaustion.

Danny fidgets, and looks like he's going to get up, so Martin joins him on the couch and puts a hand on Danny's knee. "It's 4am, man, there's obviously something bothering you."

This time, Danny does stand, but Martin holds stubbornly onto his wrist, and he doesn't try to fight the hold. "I'm sorry," he says, without looking at Martin. "It's too late, I shouldn't be here."

Martin tugs hard on the wrist in his hand, and Danny reluctantly meets his eyes and holds them for a moment before sitting back down. Again, though, he can't seem to hold onto the gaze, and glances away before setting to looking around the room in a confused, agitated manner. "You feel like crap, man?" Martin asks frankly, his voice a little more awake now that he is, too.

Danny meets his eyes briefly, then nods quickly.

"Then you should be here." Martin doesn't say anything more, because there's nothing more to say. Ever since he and Danny managed to forge their tight friendship in spite of their initial suspicions, that's always been Martin's policy. His door is open to his friends any time of day or night, should they need him. Of course, he knows that Danny holds a similar policy-- it's hard not to, when you work the jobs they do-- but he rarely takes advantage of it. They both have trouble with weakness in different ways, and Martin's relates to showing emotion. Danny, however, won't hesitate to scream or cry or punch a wall, but he has his own buttons.

The first time Danny showed up at Martin's doorstep, it was after a twelve-year old boy had almost committed suicide because of the ridicule he was getting in school. He'd gotten so far as to hang himself in the backyard of the worst offender when Danny and Jack reached him and cut him down. He'd lived, but Danny had been badly shook up. Martin had seen the tears in his eyes and the way his hands shook as they wrapped up the case, and he'd offered himself if Danny needed to talk. Danny had turned him down.

Hours later, there'd been a knock on the doorbell, and Martin, who was sleeping the sleep of the satisfied and fulfilled, almost neglected to get up and get it. He was glad he did, though, because Danny had stumbled through his door and landed on his couch with such an utter lack of coordination that for a moment, Martin had feared he was drunk. But Danny hadn't been drunk, just emotionally exhausted, and Martin had fetched him a glass of water and sat with him, and when Danny had fallen asleep on the couch, Martin had covered him with a blanket and returned to his own bed.

Now, two and a half years later, things have changed a little with the addition of a new element in their relationship, but not that much. Danny still shows up in the wee hours of the morning looking dreadful and Martin takes him in. Now that they are lovers, he holds him and rubs his back and takes him to bed with him instead of leaving him on the couch, but it's much the same--the comfort offered by another warm body that Danny inevitably seeks out when he feels bad, and that Martin delights in being able to offer him.

Martin slowly releases his grip on Danny's arm and watches for any signs that Danny's about to bolt again. When Danny doesn't move, he rubs his hand up his arm, and then puts his arm around Danny's shoulder and pulls him firmly down. Danny's head lands on his shoulder with an impact that is almost painful, and speaks to the amount of sleep that they both need to catch up on. But slowly, his muscles start to relax, and Martin holds him against his side as he waits for Danny to reach that boneless state of lassitude that he can find in physical comfort.

Martin has trouble with touch. He always has. He was never hit or molested or even bothered on the playground very much, so it's not something that was scarred into him. But his family is very hands-off, and combined with the training from an early age not to let his emotions show, means that Martin has a hard time with touch. Danny's constant casual contact he learned to tolerate fairly quickly, since Danny has no concept of personal space, but the kind of pleasure and relaxation that his lover derives from simply holding someone is something that Martin is only beginning to enjoy.

Now, though, Danny is almost asleep against him, and Martin's eyes are starting to droop, too. "C'mon," he says, shaking Danny a little with the arm around him. "Let's go to bed."

Danny groans. "Let's stay here."

Martin pushes a little harder, and Danny reluctantly sits up. "Nope. We've got to get to work in the morning, and if we don't go to bed, we're going to be too stiff and sore to get up." He stands up and then reaches down and takes Danny's hand, pulling him up off the sofa. "Bed."

Danny sheds his coat, leaving it on the back of Martin's couch, and then toes off his shoes as he follows Martin into the bedroom. Martin stops and helps him unbutton his shirt, and then take off his belt and shuck his pants, and then they both climb into the bed and Danny attaches himself to Martin like some kind of limpet or remora.

This is something else that Martin is gradually learning to enjoy. He always tolerated it, because he's had girlfriends before, and cuddling is usually required, but he's never felt any desire to do so for himself. And in the beginning, it was the same with Danny. But now he's beginning to see the appeal of holding someone simply for the sake of being close, of feeling warm skin against his and feeling another heartbeat and someone else's twitchy pre-sleep muscles. It's a sensual pleasure that has nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with the human need for simple contact.

Danny mumbles one more apology about the hour before he drops off, and Martin assures him it's fine. "Anytime you need," he says, and watches as Danny's breathing evens out and his grip relaxes. Martin curls in a little closer and wraps an arm over Danny's waist, and falls asleep himself.

Morning is in two hours, but these two hours of sleep alone will leave them feeling more rested than the entirety of the six hours preceding them.