Alexander should sleep, but he doesn't - he dozes and drifts, feeling something he's not used to (some domesticated sort of safe). It's not bad, but he stays somewhat awake anyway, part of him still keyed up and worried that someone will come pounding at the door and saying the Federalis are here.
But Henry is asleep, and his breath and his heart are soothing. He holds one of his lover's hands between his own, eyes half open, thinking about California and planes and the reaction he'll have to craft to this entire thing.
Henry's dreaming like he sometimes does and rarely remembers, and as could be expected it's not that pleasant of a dream in the aftermath. His hand curls and he presses closer, mouth moving to allow some garbled murmurs to emerge, muffled against the back of Alex's head.
His form stills, hearing that - Henry hasn't woken up, or he'd have felt it. Alexander tilts his head back a little, making a soft noise but not voicing any queries yet. He knows he didn't imagine him saying anything...
It's enough movement to stir Henry into some dim grey area between dreaming and consciousness, and he reflexively tightens his grip even further.
"Don't leave," he mumbles, in a language that's a lot of things to both of them- but distinctly not English or anything else he actually speaks. He told him so, just the other day.
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But Henry is asleep, and his breath and his heart are soothing. He holds one of his lover's hands between his own, eyes half open, thinking about California and planes and the reaction he'll have to craft to this entire thing.
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"Don't leave," he mumbles, in a language that's a lot of things to both of them- but distinctly not English or anything else he actually speaks. He told him so, just the other day.
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