Chapter Text
If you had asked Martin during the Prentiss days where he saw himself in five year, he wouldn’t have known what to say. He probably would be in London still working at the Magnus Institute, maybe he would get a pet to spice things up. However, he never expected to be in the Scottish Highlands with his prickly boss, whom he had formed an ill-advised crush on. More so, he wouldn’t have expected to be a father figure to a child.
But here he was, folding laundry with a boy he had come to view as his son and the love of his life in the kitchen making them all dinner. They had only taken in Harry two days ago, but it felt like he had been the missing puzzle piece to their little home. Even if he was a little quiet at times, Harry brought light to the dark corners Martin hadn’t noticed before.
They were about half way done with the laundry and Harry was chattering away about a book he had found in the shop. Martin listened, silently pleased that Harry was willing to open up. The boy waved his hands around with an animated quality that reminded him of Jon’s info-dumps. He could see how they were related easily.
Harry looked like a child sized Jon, same unkempt hair and dark skin. Big quirky glasses and shy smiles. Martin saw Jon in Harry the moment he had walked into the cottage, and every moment he spent with the child, he grew even fonder.
“And there are pictures of different types of stars! I saw one that was a deep red called a red dwarf. My book said that it was extremely small and burned cooler than other stars. I didn’t finish the book yet, but I really want to.” By the end, Harry was playing with his hands nervously. Martin gave a small, fond chuckle
“Wash and dinner first, Harry. You will have all the time in the world to read once your bed is clear.” Harry gave a bright smile to Martin, sat down on the bed, and picked up a shirt to fold. He hesitated for a second and then looked up at Martin.
“Uncle Martin? At the shop, Uncle Jon called me his son. Is that … Am I?” The question’s abruptness startled him into the moment. Martin knew he viewed Harry as their son, but he also knew it scared all three of them in different ways.
Jon had confronted him the day before, saying that he didn’t want to replace Harry’s real parents. Martin had tried to quell his worries, telling Jon that they wouldn’t be replacing his real parents by taking care of the poor boy. It hadn’t completely worked, but he knew Jon felt a little better. Martin also knew that Harry was afraid that they would not love him. That they would leave him when he would need parents most. Finally, there were Martin’s own fears of inadequacy. He had never had a good parent. His father abandoned him and his mother as a child, and with Jon’s help, he accepted that he was not the cause of his mother’s emotional abuse. He didn’t have anything to compare himself to and it was terrifying.
“Harry, you can be whatever you want. If you want us to be your parents, then we will be your parents. If you want us to be your uncles, we will be your uncles. But no matter what you call us, you are our son.” He looked at Harry to find tears running down his face.
“Oh, Harry. Come here.” Martin set down the jeans he had been folding and opened his arms. Harry looked up and crawled over to Martin. Martin scooped the boy into his lap and just held him close.
“It’s alright, Harry. It’s alright.” He started to run a hand through Harry’s hair. Harry continued to cry until his cries turned into sobs. A protective urge runs through Martin and he squeezes Harry a little bit closer.
“I just- I don’t-” Sobs continues to break up Harry's attempts to speak.
“Shhh, it’s alright. Take a breath, Harry. I’m not going to leave.” Martin ran a hand up and down the boy’s back to soothe him. He took a few deep breaths for Harry to mimic, working to calm him down. It worked a little more than he expected and after a few minutes, Harry was fast asleep. Martin picked him up, tucked him into the bed, and turned to finish the laundry. He was putting away the last of the laundry when there was a knock at the door. Martin turned and saw Jon standing in the doorway.
“I Saw what happened. Are you okay?” Martin looked over at Harry who was curled up under the cozy quilt. He sighed and looked up at Jon.
“I’m alright. I just ... don’t want to leave him. I told him I wouldn’t.” Martin didn’t think Jon’s face could soften more than it already had, but somehow it did. Jon took a couple steps forward and wrapped his arms around Martin. He dropped his head into the crook of Martin’s neck, breathing in the other man’s scent. Martin hid his face in Jon’s hair, holding his love in a strong embrace.
“I could bring you some dinner up here for you.” Jon offered. He nuzzled a little closer and Martin placed his chin on the top of Jon’s head. Martin hummed in response.
“Darling, I know you hate food upstairs. What if we bring him downstairs? It will be a win-win for everyone. No food upstairs, we can eat dinner together, and we can keep an eye on Harry.” Jon nodded lightly, but refused to move away. He just snuggled a little closer.
“Jon. Sweetheart, pumpkin, light of my life. Did you turn off the stove for the pasta sauce?” Martin could feel the heat of Jon’s cheeks on his neck.
“Noooooo?” Martin chuckled and Jon gave an indignant huff, pulling away from his cozy refuge.
“So you’re going to go turn off the stove while I get Harry downstairs and comfy on the couch?”
“I guess … but not without a kiss.” The childish response made Martin roll his eyes, but lean in for a quick peck anyways. Martin pushed him away lightly.
“Now go make sure dinner doesn’t burn.” They both laughed softly as Jon left the room. Martin turned to Harry’s sleeping figure, bundled in the patchwork quilt, and his heart melted. Martin scooped Harry up, blanket included, and headed downstairs. He set Harry down on the couch and walked into the kitchen.
He knew that they would have a lot to talk about in the morning, but right now, he decided that food and his love were more important than the problems of the future.