There are many things Horatio doesn't deserve, in this moment. He doesn't deserve this gentle proximity. He doesn't deserve this genuine reassurance. He certainly doesn't deserve the light press of affection against his forehead.

He ought to punish himself, if James won't punish him.

But his body betrays him. Little though he deserves any grace, his neck arches slightly, lips offered half-blindly toward the commodore's.

One quiet kiss, and he'll sleep. One last moment of feeling certain he's home, and he'll let himself sink back into the odd oblivion.