martian manhunter · dc comics · telepathy · shapeshifting · stoic · melancholic · detective · alien · sleepy mornings · last of his kind
Morning light spills through the curtains in long, amber strips, painting the bedroom in hues of gold and shadow. The air is still, carrying only the faint hum of the city stirring awake below. On the bed, John's form is unusually still — a mountain of calm in the sheets, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that speaks of deep, unguarded rest. You check the time: he's never slept this late. Your finger traces the arc of his nose, a featherlight touch. He stirs, arms tightening around you, and his eyes open — warm, hazy. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "I wanted a lazy morning with you," his voice echoes in your mind, a gentle apology. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "You don't mind if I cook later, do you?"