The novelty of being awake while Midnighter sleeps keeps Marcus up for a bit. He wants to enjoy it. Midnighter's breath pours rhythmic across his shoulder and chest, and he bleeds feverish heat. Marcus hums happily, curls around him. He drifts off before Midnighter's breathing stills, and he doesn't wake up before light comes through the blinds.
The morning finds him stiff and achy, still not quite used to sleeping tangled up with someone else. His arm's dead where Midnighter's lying on it. First order of the day: extricating himself (Midnighter's head bounces onto the pillows below and he doesn't wake) and stretching.
Second order of the day: settling on his side, facing Midnighter, and reaching out to touch his face...but not getting there.
He's not breathing.
Marcus' hand wavers, frozen between them.
This is, he knows, just a weird quirk of Midnighter's augmented biology. He's still furnace-hot, he's clearly alive. He's just so, horribly still. Still like living bodies just aren't. Marcus has seen enough dead ones to know that. But Midnighter's fine, he's just sleeping very, very deeply...
Marcus knows that. But knowing doesn't make it better. His heart speeds up, anxiety whining quicker in his chest. He blinks, and though he knows there's nothing to worry about a pit opens in his stomach, a horrible twisting black space...
"Midnighter," he says, voice low and hoarse, then he raises it: "Midnighter! Hey. Hey, wake up, love — " He shakes him by the shoulder, fingers digging in, having forgotten or perhaps just discarded Midnighter's warnings to wake him up carefully.
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The morning finds him stiff and achy, still not quite used to sleeping tangled up with someone else. His arm's dead where Midnighter's lying on it. First order of the day: extricating himself (Midnighter's head bounces onto the pillows below and he doesn't wake) and stretching.
Second order of the day: settling on his side, facing Midnighter, and reaching out to touch his face...but not getting there.
He's not breathing.
Marcus' hand wavers, frozen between them.
This is, he knows, just a weird quirk of Midnighter's augmented biology. He's still furnace-hot, he's clearly alive. He's just so, horribly still. Still like living bodies just aren't. Marcus has seen enough dead ones to know that. But Midnighter's fine, he's just sleeping very, very deeply...
Marcus knows that. But knowing doesn't make it better. His heart speeds up, anxiety whining quicker in his chest. He blinks, and though he knows there's nothing to worry about a pit opens in his stomach, a horrible twisting black space...
"Midnighter," he says, voice low and hoarse, then he raises it: "Midnighter! Hey. Hey, wake up, love — " He shakes him by the shoulder, fingers digging in, having forgotten or perhaps just discarded Midnighter's warnings to wake him up carefully.