#clarkver

Carver sighs and reaches for him, until Isaac relents and rolls onto his side and slides down, facing him. "Not the problem, babe," he says, voice a note softer when he uses the petname. "Bad dream?"

Isaac shrugs. Won't meet his gaze. "When am I not having a bad dream?"

Clicking his tongue, Carver cups Isaac's cheek. "Could have dreams about me and instead you keep thinking about monsters. Shame." When Isaac cracks a smile, he leans in and presses his lips to the other man's forehead. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I'd rather not," Isaac replies blandly. "And I've tried dreaming about you but it usually ends up even scarier."

Scarier because he's so afraid of losing him, Carver knows. Scarier because Isaac's woken up sweating and screaming his name and refused to say what he dreamed but how he checks him head to toe for wounds says enough. Scarier because Isaac dreams in blood and gore and if Carver is there he's losing him, lost him, or hurting him.

And even if Isaac could manage to have a nice dream it probably would end with something fucked up happening before long.

"I'll keep more nightmares away," Carver tells him. "You should sleep."

"Johnny…" The nickname tickles the back of his brain when Isaac mumbles it. "It's hard."

He knows. But he also knows they made it out of things together. And if anyone can say what he does next, it's John fucking Carver.

"I'll protect you," he says softly. And a little tension actually seems to leave Isaac's body.

"Promise?"