"You're late."
It wasn't the best first line but Dan didn't seem to mind. He walked slowly forward into the room and Jones tried to take in everything at once, like staring at a painting until you'd memorized every brush stroke and every tiny dab of blue amongst the green and grey and yellow. Dan looked tired and that tightness was there around his eyes which Jones knew meant he was feeling more vulnerable than he was letting on. His skin was puffy and dry and he had some of the worst bedhead ever seen and Jones wondered just how quickly he'd decided to leave the hospital after the procedure. He was leaning heavily on his cane but the plaster cast was gone, replaced by a thick, foam boot like footballers wore when they wanted to show that they were really injured and hadn't just been faking it for a bit of drama, and Jones felt his lips twitch at the thought of Dan doing anything even remotely athletic.
Dan smiled too, and Claire scrambled out of the way as he lurched forward with a surprising amount of speed until he was standing in front of Jones' chair, his face shadowed by the light directly behind him. Seven years and he still managed to look like the same scruffy angel who'd bought him his first cup of coffee and showed him that not everyone wanted to use him for their own ends and then throw him away.
He held out his free hand and Jones took it, feeling his fingers slide against Dan's palm, their skin smoother than it had been in a long time through forced rest, and allowed Dan to pull him to his feet.
"You're late," he whispered again, not judging or telling off or anything like that, but so that Dan would know how much Jones had missed him.
"I know," Dan replied in the same tone. "The doctor was a prat, wanted me to stay an extra two hours to see whether I could support my weight then gave me a lecture about not doing too much weight bearing."
"What a prick," Jones agreed, nuzzling his face into Dan's chest and feeling those familiar arms wrap around his waist. "I like your fancy boot though."
"Moon boot," Dan mumbled into Jones' hair, pressing his nose to Jones' head as he mussed at it, trying to bring their bodies as close as possible, to simply feel the heat and life of each other.
Jones' felt his smile widen. Dan smelled of hospital - harsh and sharp against the nose - but beneath that was the tea and biscuit and cigarette smell, like the opening credits of a black and white film, and Jones let it wash over him. He could hear Dan's heart as well. The steady thump of it calmed him down like nothing else and was making him sleepy too. Dan had explained it once, how listening to someone's heart beat was relaxing because it tapped in to every person's experience of being in the womb and having their mother's heart beat keeping them regulated and alive. Jones wasn't a fan of his mum but he liked the idea that every single person started out listening to a beat and still needed it to balance things out every once in a while, even as adults.
He yawned into Dan's shirt, feeling the tug of his flesh around his ribs that didn't really hurt anymore but still felt strange. It was nearly five in the afternoon, too early to go to bed, too late to nap, but Jones desperately wanted to snuggle up against Dan and just hold him and lose himself in that deep, steady beat for the next twelve hours. He still wasn't used to sleeping so much, or how his body could suddenly shut down, tiredness hitting like an unexpected rain shower, drenching him in seconds and leaving him with no option but to give in and sleep. It made him feel old but Dan insisted that it just made him normal. Secretly Jones thought that that might be worse.
"You okay?" Dan asked, not moving his face from the crown of Jones' head.
"Yeah... Moon boot's a genius name. Space age."
He knew he wasn't making much sense. The longer he stayed wrapped in Dan's arms with his ear pressed to Dan's ribcage the more tired and disjointed his thoughts were becoming. He hummed happily into Dan's chest and Dan's returning chuckle sent a thrill along his spine.
"I think we're both a bit sci-fi now," Dan's voice rumbled.
"Yeah," Jones responded sleepily. "Total cyborgs now. Bisexual cyborg lovers from the future. That's genius."
"It sounds like prog album."
"Genius," Jones slurred.
He tried to open his eyes but couldn't. He was too comfortable but Dan probably wasn't. He felt Dan shift, straightening up like he'd shared the thought and Jones did the same, though he didn't let go.
"Shall we," Dan sighed. "Shall we just go to bed?"
"What about dinner?" Jones said, his lips barely moving as he tried to stay upright. The world was spinning around him, even though his eyes were closed, and he felt like he was floating in ink.
"I don't need it if you don't. Come on."
He pushed Jones' crutch into his hand and held onto the other firmly and Jones forced his eyes to open grainily as they moved toward the stairs, their bodies swaying in time to the thuds of their canes on the carpet and shoulders bumping together, Dan's fingers wrapped protectively around his.
It seemed to take an absurdly long time to get up the stairs and into the bedroom. Each step was an effort and Dan's breathing was juddery and uneven, like a rickety fan on rotate, and when they finally got there both men fell to the bed, breathing hard.
"There aren't," Jones asked between ragged breaths. "There aren't stairs at the place in Hornsea are there?"
"No," Dan replied, equally breathless. "It's tiny, smaller than our house. Sitting room, bedroom, study, kitchen, lean-to bathroom at the back. The only steps are the ones down to the beach."
"Good," Jones sighed, letting his eyes close again and relaxing into the soft bedspread.
He couldn't wait to get there, to potter around at the seaside like a proper convalescing couple with no one to worry about but each other.
"Hey, don't fall asleep yet," Dan whispered but Jones just let out another sigh.
Dan tutted and began the job of removing Jones' leg brace, sliding it away carefully before starting on the button of his jeans. The sensation of Dan's fingers against his bare stomach and thighs sent a surge of strange, tingling nerves to Jones' belly but he was too tired to explore it and after pressing a kiss to the trail of hair from Jones' belly button to his groin Dan moved back and carefully removed his own leg support and track pants, wincing as his hand brushed against the dressing that covered his sutures.
When he felt Dan collapse next to him on the bed with a groan he rolled toward him, shifting his hip so that he wouldn't wake up to a throbbing, painful leg and felt Dan do the same. He tried to laugh at the delicate kiss that the other man pressed to the tip of his nose but it came out as just air, and before he had time to try again he was asleep.