Work Text:
Jon jolts up as he awakes, gasping and drenched in cold sweat. His breath is heavy, almost a pant as he struggles to calm himself in the dark room.
“Jon…” A voice groans next to him. “It’s too early to get up.”
Shit
Jon cursed himself as he watches Martin grapple at the blankets in a sleepy stupor.
“S… sorry.” He stammers, voice hoarse in his throat.
“Jon?” Martin sounds a bit clearer now.
He wants to tell Martin that he was fine, to go back to sleep, but the words get caught in his throat.
Martin sits up when he doesn’t respond, hands fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand.
“What happened?” He asks, placing one hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Another nightmare?”
Jon nods, swallowing thickly.
“C’mere, then.” Martin instructs, pulling Jon into his embrace.
This occurrence was common enough that Martin knows what to do. He runs his hand up and down Jon’s back, murmuring comforts into his hair and pressing kisses to his temple.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks when Jon’s breathing returns to a reasonable pace.
“God, please don’t make me.” Jon mumbles into his chest.
“Alright… it’s alright.” He soothes. “It was a bad one, though, huh?”
Jon nods with a shudder.
“Oh, love, your braid’s coming undone.”
Jon sits up to investigate the situation. Martin was right, the braid he usually put his hair in at night to make it easier to manage in the mornings has loosened, hair-tie slipping almost completely out and large strands falling around his shoulders.
“Want me to help redo it?”
What Jon meant to say was “yes, Martin, that would be lovely”.
“Please…” Comes out instead.
“Alright, hold on, I gotta grab the brush.”
Martin returns as quickly as he leaves, Jon’s hairbrush in hand.
“Let me see?”
Jon turns so the braid falls against his back, facing Martin.
Martin is quick to undo the braid, slipping the hair-tie onto his wrist and dragging his fingers through the woven strands. Once the hair is properly separated, he gently drags the brush through his partner’s long, wavy locks.
The braid did its job for the most part, so there aren’t many tangles present. He’s gentle with the few he finds, recalling how his mother used to rip through his own tangles hard enough to pull some of his hair out
He holds the hair right above the offending tangle with one hand and works the brush through the mess with the other, keeping the tension away from Jon’s scalp for the most part.
When everything is properly cared for, Martin runs his hand through Jon’s hair a few more times, paying attention to his scalp and eliciting pleasant sighs from the man in front of him. He presses a kiss to Jon’s temple before beginning to braid.
When Martin had first tried to braid Jon’s hair, it had been clumsy. He was years out of practice, being banned from touching anywhere near his mothers head some time in primary school, and having no friends close enough to try it with at the time.
Luckily, he hadn’t entirely forgotten the motions, and Jon, despite himself, was patient with him. He got the hang of it again after a while, and was quite proud of his progress.
When he’s finished, he wraps the hair-tie around the end of the braid and rests it flat against Jon’s back.
“There,” He says, pulling Jon into a backwards hug against his chest. “All done.”
“Thank you.” Jon sighs, resting his hand over Martin’s crossed arms.
“You’re welcome.” Martin says, pressing another kiss to Jon’s cheek. “Now then, how about some tea before we go back to sleep?”
Jon nods, familiar with this routine. He always did the same for Martin when he woke from nightmares as well.
Martin stretched with a groan as he stood from the bed, a crack echoing from his back. He turned and held his hand out in an offer, and Jon took it with a weak smile.