Chapter Text
Throwing rocks at the windows to your soul;
Are you home?
It was his first shift on his own when Martin met Jon.
Jon came in on a rainy afternoon, and while Martin did greet him with a cheery “hello!”, all he got was a nod. That was fine, Martin hadn’t worked at the corner store for long, but he’d already learned that he either got nothing, or they questioned where Marge was.
Well, Marge was getting along in age and had promised her kids to take a step back, and so Martin took care of the store for a couple of hours each day. That was the official reason.
Martin was pretty sure Marge just wanted to watch her shows in peace. Fine by him. She paid a pitiful amount, but the store was literally around the corner, and Martin could use any money right now.
Jon didn’t know any of that, and he probably wouldn’t care. He'd marched straight to the cigarettes.
Martin let his eyes wander over him from his place behind the register. So what? Sue him, the guy was cute.
Not quite his type, with the ripped jeans and the shirt of a band he didn’t recognize, but the big glasses? Together with the long hair, it reminded him of the theatre kid at school who he had fallen head over heels for.
When Jon handed him the pack of cigarettes, his nails were painted black. Shit, that was so cool.
Martin forced himself to look away from his hands and up at his face.
“There’s no way you’re 18.”
Jon blinked at him. “What?”
“You need to be 18 to buy cigarettes.” Martin looked around until he found the sign that said exactly that. When he pointed at it, Jon stared like he’d never heard about that before.
“This is hardly the first time I bought cigarettes!”
Martin tried not to sink into his chair. He really didn’t want any trouble, but Marge had put the shop in his care. So he squared his shoulders and said, “Then I need to see your ID, please.”
Why Jon handed him his ID remained a mystery. He looked just as dumbstruck by that as Martin was because his date of birth confirmed Martin’s suspicion. Barely 17.
Also his photo looked dorky. Apparently the frown was the norm for him.
“No cigarettes for you, Jonathan,” Martin told him, and for the first time in his life, he sounded authoritative. It was a strange rush.
“I got money.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
He handed the ID back, and Jon just… stood there. Waiting. Staring at him like Martin was about to change his mind.
Well, he wouldn’t because Marge had asked him to watch the store and he wouldn’t fuck things up on the first shift she left him alone.
Jon took the ID slowly, putting it back in his wallet, and then showed him a twenty-pound bill.
Martin just pointed back to the sign.
They’d come to a standstill, and Jon had to realize that as well.
He could either go or just take the cigarettes and run. Hopefully the first, because Martin had no idea what to do in case someone stole something. Martin glanced one more time at the ripped jeans and dark nails. Maybe Jon would. Maybe he was a rebel, broke the rules without a care in the world. Maybe he had a motorcycle just waiting outside.
But wait, Martin had just seen his ID with his name and date of birth. Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to just steal something then.
With a great big huff, Jon turned on his heels and left. The cigarettes remained on the counter, and Martin was quick to put them back in their place.
Crisis averted.
Jon appeared the next day as well. He walked in, found Martin behind the counter, and scowled.
Well, Martin had stayed up most of the night with his mum, and the headache brewing behind his eyes made it easy to scowl back.
Neither of them said a thing as Jon picked up a pack of cigarettes and handed them to him.
Martin didn’t take them.
“You know, the old lady lets me buy them and never asks for my ID,” Jon told him.
“Might be, but the old lady told me that if she ever gets a fine because I sold stuff to underage kids, I would be the one paying it.”
“I don’t think that’s legal.”
Probably not, but it wasn’t like Martin was legally hired. He just shrugged.
“I could just come back after your shift and buy them then.”
“Can’t stop you.”
Jon looked ready to stomp his foot.
“You're ridiculous.” He glanced at the stupid name tag Martin had to wear. “Martin.”
“It’s the law, Jonathan.”
He pulled a face. “Just Jon.”
Martin didn’t reply, only because he didn’t know what to say, and Jon rolled his eyes. “Listen, I’m not going to run to the police or something.”
“They sent underage kids in to try to buy booze, and if we do, it costs several hundred pounds in fines.”
“They do?” Jon seemed honestly intrigued by that, and Martin had to quickly glance away. It was a cute look on him.
“So maybe you’re here undercover or something.”
“I’m not.”
“Exactly someone being undercover would say.”
Jon’s lips twitched into something that Martin would nearly call a smile. He put the pack of cigarettes down and picked up something next to the register.
“Would you sell me some gum at least?”
“Sure.”
Their fingers brushed when Martin took the gum, and he promptly let it drop. Smooth.
Clearing his throat, Jon handed him the money, thankfully without commenting further. His nail polish was chipped on his thumb.
“Enjoy.”
“You too”, Jon grumbled.
“Oh, didn’t know you were offering to share?”
Jon froze, and Martin could watch the red rise to his face. It nearly made him laugh.
Jon quickly fled the store.
By the end of the week, Jon was the highlight of Martin’s day. Which was very sad to think about, but it wasn’t like there was much to do at the store. And if he wasn’t here, he was at Tesco or home.
As boring as the corner store was, he preferred it over the alternatives.
Jon dropped by each afternoon, probably after school or something. This time, Martin was prepared.
While he’d been cleaning out the back, he’d found the same warning sign about smoking he’d kept at the cash register, but as stickers. They were probably meant to go on the shelf because the old ones were peeling and faded away.
As for now, Martin spent his very valuable time building a tiny sign out of toothpicks, the stickers, and abandoned receipts.
Which was ridiculous and stupid, and Jon probably would be weirded out. But it wasn’t like he had better things to do.
There was a bell above the door, ringing whenever someone stepped inside.
“Martin”, Jon greeted him, a challenge in his eyes and Martin bit down on his smirk.
“Jonathan.”
Jon pulled a face. Did he not like his name? Martin wanted to ask him so many questions, but that wasn’t what their relationship was about.
Jon kept eye contact as he walked towards the cigarettes, like today would be the day he’d outsmart Martin. Somehow.
Well, it wouldn’t be because Jon would walk out with the same pack of gum as every day, and that was that. But i t was the perfect time to raise his new sign.
Jon stopped in his tracks, taken aback, and Martin held his breath. This could be a mistake, maybe Jon would see it as an insult and not as teasing.
But then Jon’s eyes crinkled, and he couldn’t quite hide his laughter behind his hand. It was a good laugh, airy and free, sending shivers down Martin’s back.
Oh shit.
He was so fucked.