Matt
Peter fell asleep is Matt’s arms, tired tear tracks caked his cheeks, and his neck at an awkward angle.
“Frank?” Matt pulled the other man out of own head, he had been stuck in deep thought for quite sometime now.
Franks grunted, continuing to rub Peter’s back.
“Can you put him in bed? We can share the couch tonight.”
Frank wordlessly swept the kid into his arms, with one arm beneath the kid’s knees, and the other below his shoulder, Peter’s head lolled onto Frank’s chest.
Matt noted that Frank’s breathing barely changed, which made him worry about Peter’ weight. The thought pierced Matt deeply, how much had the kid been suffering? Was what he had shared been only the tip of the iceberg, before tonight's dinner, when had been Peter's last meal? Matt felt as headache approaching at the mere direction of these thoughts.
Matt followed Frank into the bedroom on autopilot, making sure Peter was settled in comfortably once Frank lowered him onto the bed. Matt tucked him in, brushing Peter’s hair back as he did. He started to trace the kid’s face with his fingertips, before realizing how much of invasion that was.
“He feels so young.” Matt all but whispered, his fingertips felt like they burned at the loss of contact. He needed to touch Peter to know he was real, he was there and he was safe. Matt cursed his blindness from robbing him the sight of knowing Peter was safe in bed right now.
Frank grabbed Matt’s bicep, pulling him up from where he sat on the bed’s edge. If Frank hadn't, Matt was convinced he would spent all night there lost in thought.
“He looks so young, Red.” Frank responded almost solemnly, closing the sliding door softly behind them, and continued to lead Matt out of the room.
“I’m going to shower. Please just make sure he’s okay.” Matt sighed, sounding as though he was accepting defeat.
Matt could feel Frank smile at that, but didn’t have the energy to question why; he really needed a shower.
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In a pair of boxers, and Frank’s shirt fresh out of the laundry, Matt slipped back into the living, keenly listening for any change of breathing from Peter as he slept.
“Is that my shirt?” Frank voiced broke through Matt’s thoughts.
“I didn’t want to go back in the bedroom, and risk interrupting Peter’s sleep.”
Matt fell on to the couch that, he was grateful to notice, Frank had thrown a sheet over and taken out an extra blanket.
Matt could hear Frank brush his teeth, and counted the strokes along with Peter’s exhales.
When Frank returned, Matt heard the lights click off before feeling his boyfriend’s arms wrap around his, forcing him to lay down. Frank was now shirtless, his chest hair softly pressing against Matt calmed him slightly.
However, it was short lived, because as soon as Matt’s head hit the pillow, he lost his count and focus on Peter’s breathing, abruptly sitting up again.
“Red, baby, please. He’s fine.” Frank groaned.
“How can you say that, how can you know that?” Matt had a slight edge in his voice, shrugging off Frank’s hold.
Frank sat up with Matt, roughly grabbing the man. His fingers dug into Matt arms, and Matt resisted the urge to push him off and go back into the bedroom, to witness Peter sleep, to make sure he was actually okay.
“He’s fine, because he has to be.”
“What does that even mean?” Matt pressed, shoving Frank a little.
Frank paid no heed to Matt strikes, letting the Matt hit his chest with no retaliation.
“When my daughter was born.” Frank voice was gritty, like sandpaper. Matt stilled.
“When my daughter was born, I spent nights sleeping on the rug of her nursery, head against the crib to listen to her breathe.”
Matt fell back on the couch, pulling Frank with him. Frank’s head naturally landed on Matt’s chest.
“She was beautiful, Red. Perfect. Had me wrapped around her finger from day one, I just had to make sure she was safe all the time.”
Matt felt Frank shake with every word.
“Maria had to tear me a knew one.” Frank let out a watery laugh. “Said I was overwhelming her and the baby, told me I just had to trust she was going to be okay, because she had to be.”
Matt stiffened at the mention of Frank’s late wife’s name, he always felt it a difficult subject, particularly since the fruition of their new relationship. They stumbled into each other, finding comfort in similar losses they shared and the anger they harboured, their love has always seemed like a consequence of the tragedy they both have suffered, nothing quite as pure as what Frank had for his late family.
Matt was insecure of Frank’s dead family, and he felt like an asshole for it.
“So I backed off a little, and she was fine, Red I swear. She grew up even more beautiful.”
Matt, wiped the tears from his eyes, carding his fingers through Frank's hair, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.
“So, I know Peter will be fine. He’ll be fine because he has to be.”
“Okay.” Matt conceded.
And tangled into each other, emotionally drained, worried and exhausted is how they fell asleep.