Marcus is sat up, his hands half-way to Midnighter's face but frozen again. He doesn't want to spark another reaction. His eyes flit cautiously, wide, over Midnighter's face, taking in the blood smears with only the upset merest twitch of his mouth. "I know," he says, "I know. I — you weren't breathing."
He exhales, and slumps back. Into the corner of the bed, away from Midnighter, huddled and a little sullen, still staring at him. His chest actually hurts. If he has a heart attack in bed with Midnighter for reasons unrelated to sex, he's going to — he's going to be confirmed, once again, in his opinion that God has a sick sense of humour.
"You weren't breathing," he sighs, and rubs his face. "I know, I know, you told me."
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Marcus is sat up, his hands half-way to Midnighter's face but frozen again. He doesn't want to spark another reaction. His eyes flit cautiously, wide, over Midnighter's face, taking in the blood smears with only the upset merest twitch of his mouth. "I know," he says, "I know. I — you weren't breathing."
He exhales, and slumps back. Into the corner of the bed, away from Midnighter, huddled and a little sullen, still staring at him. His chest actually hurts. If he has a heart attack in bed with Midnighter for reasons unrelated to sex, he's going to — he's going to be confirmed, once again, in his opinion that God has a sick sense of humour.
"You weren't breathing," he sighs, and rubs his face. "I know, I know, you told me."