Marcus has always been a light sleeper, has all his life been aware of the vulnerability that comes with sleeping too heavily, and so he wakes easily. Has since he was a child. Back then if he hadn't woken quickly, it might have meant catching a wooden spoon against the side of his head and so the slightest bit of movement or the creaking out a floorboard somewhere in the house can bring him out of what others might think was a deep sleep. The moment Dan begins to thrash in the bed, Marcus is awake. His eyes fly open and he pulls himself into a seated position, pushing back blankets and turning to Dan.

It's instinct only that has him laying his hands on Dan, reaching past the flailing hands, heedless of the possibility of being hit. Marcus has reached out to comfort people far more violent than this in the past, has held shrieking children to his chest, singing to them, reciting stories, hushing them with soft words as he tries to send the demons in them screaming back to hell. He's told them they're good and pure and loved even as they scratch and slap and bite. A nightmare he can handle.

"Dan," he says, voice firm and yet still gentle. His hands settle on top of Dan's, pulling them from his mouth, and once he has the space, he presses the weight of his entire palm solidly against Dan's chest, just below his throat. A reminder of reality. "Dan, it's alright, it's a dream. You're safe. Come back now. Come out of there."