Chapter Text
“Tim, I’m begging you.”
“You know I would, Jon. I love fancy events with lots of food and dancing!”
Jon cringed just thinking about fancy events and Tim threw him a sympathetic look.
“But I got these concert tickets…”
“You're ditching me for a concert?”
“I paid £400 for the tickets!”
For a moment Jon considered just paying Tim the £400, if that would make him join him, but even he had to admit that would be ridiculous. It was just one evening and Tim was right, he’d gladly joined him during the last family gathering.
He looked for Sasha, who just shrugged at him. “Me coming with you wouldn’t help, would it?”
“No,” Jon admitted with a sigh. His family would have a fit if he showed up with a woman, on top of everything. He was already a disgrace for not dressing appropriately and ‘playing’ at being a man.
“Sorry,” Tim said again and with a deep sigh, Jon leaned against his desk.
“No, you’re fine. This is my problem, not yours.”
“Your real problem will be that everyone will ask about me.”
Tim made it sound like he was teasing, but unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Jon had brought him as a plus one once, and as expected, his whole family had fallen for him. His great aunt had sent him a list of wedding venues just a week later, much to Tim’s amusement.
“I think I’m gonna trip down some stairs, break a few bones,” Jon muttered under his breath and tried to sound like he wasn't actually considering the idea.
“Just don’t go,” Sasha told him. “Your family has been nothing but awful towards you. I don’t know why you bother.”
“Not that easy.”
She shrugged and turned back to her work. Something he should be doing as well, but it wasn’t like he could focus. The wedding was drawing closer, and Jon could sense a looming disaster.
Meeting his family always ended that way.
Tim looked honestly sorry, but it wasn’t like it was his fault either. Best to put on a brave face and brace for impact.
“Ask Martin. You know he won’t say no.”
Probably not. Martin was fine, and after their rocky start, they got along all right. But besides heading to a pub on Fridays, they hadn’t hung out outside of work, and even those occasions had been with Tim and Sasha.
Also, and that was an ugly thought, but Jon couldn’t shake it off, Martin would not only have to endure the venom his family would spit at them, he would also be compared to Tim.
Tim, who had pulled all the attention away from Jon, and put on a show. That was just what Tim was good at, and he had left quite an impression on his family.
If Jon showed up with quiet, awkward Martin of all people…
Well, it would be seen as a downgrade.
The person in question chose that moment to enter the bullpen, hair plastered to his skull, and a bag safely tucked against his chest.
“It’s raining,” Martin pointed out, quite needlessly, and Jon had to press his lips together not to smile.
“Didn’t you take an umbrella with you?”
“Does it look like I took an umbrella with me, Tim?”
He noticed Jon then, and his eyes darted away.
“I got cupcakes for everyone. Here, Butterscotch, right?”
Butterscotch was indeed a good pastry choice and Jon gladly took one.
“That wasn’t necessary,” he said, just to make sure.
“I can’t be the only one with a cupcake!”
Very considerate. Then again, Martin always was. He wouldn’t leave Jon hanging; Jon didn’t doubt that. Whether Martin could handle his family was the question.
He made his way back to his office, to get some work done but couldn’t focus on it. The wedding was next week and he would have to make a decision soon.
Either follow Sasha’s advice and not go, but while that had been his kneejerk reaction, it was his only family left.
Go alone? That would mean a whole day of pointed comments and pitiful looks.
Or ask Martin. Not like Jon had a parade of young bachelors just waiting to spend a day away from London, celebrating the marriage of strangers.
A knock on his office door made him look up. It was Martin, because apparently someone wanted to nudge him to make a decision.
“Heard you hadn’t started recording.”
Yeah, because Jon had spent the past minutes staring at the statement and he hadn’t so much as taken in the name of the statement giver.
“A tea with your snack?”
It wasn’t a question, the tea was already in Martin’s hand. Jon watched him put down the mug, a bright purple one with cutesy cartoon cats on it. The cats were wearing bows and top hats, like any cat in their right mind would let that happen to them. But it had been a Secret Santa gift from Tim, so Jon couldn’t just throw it away.
“Close the door, will you?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course! Sorry for bothering, I will just-”
And Martin proceeded to flee his office like Jon was throwing things at him. He barely caught him before he could disappear.
“No, Martin. From inside. I wanted to talk with you.”
That didn’t help with Martin’s nervousness, but he slowly stepped back into Jon’s office. “Is… is something wrong? If it’s about the Miller-case, I am waiting on a reply from his workplace and-”
“I wanted to ask you something private?”
“Private?”
“Yeah, if that’s fine with you?”
Didn’t look like it. Martin still seemed ready to bolt, shoulders around his head like that could make him smaller. But he finally closed the door and sat down.
“Am I in trouble?”
Not yet, but Martin hadn’t met his uncle. A horrid little man with quite an ancient view of the world.
“I’m invited to a wedding next week, and my life would be much easier if I could show up with company.”
Martin blinked at him. His hair had dried into a cloudlike texture on his head and a curious part of Jon wanted to touch it. Probably not right now, by the looks of it, he’d already shocked Martin enough.
“Am I supposed to ask Tim for you?”
“What? No, Tim had other plans for that weekend.”
“Oh, so should I… look into some sort of escort service?”
Huh, that was an option Jon hadn’t considered. He entertained the idea for a second or two before dismissing it. The needling questions of his family, plus a stranger to entertain all night sounded like an actual nightmare.
“I was thinking you could be my plus one?”
Martin’s face did a couple of very complicated things. Shocked, flattered, and Jon was pretty sure there was also fear in there somewhere. Hard to tell by how quickly blood rushed into his cheeks and drained again. Good thing Martin was already sitting down.
“Me?”
“Obviously, you don’t have to. I’m asking not as your boss but as…” He struggled with that one for a moment, but his eyes fell back on the cupcake and tea. “Your friend.”
He was pretty sure Martin reached down to pinch his leg, like this was a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“It’s an indian wedding, but you’ll be fine with a simple suit. I also plan to rent one. Of course I would cover the cost, seeing as you are doing me a favour.”
Martin’s eyes darted down, like he had only just noticed Jon’s dark skin.
“I’ve never been to an indian wedding.”
“I’ve been on too many, so I'll guide you through it. However the wedding is outside of London, so we will have to stay the night.”
Martin made the most curious noise at that. A mixture of a half-deflated squeaky toy and drowning on land.
“I have to warn you though, my extended family can be quite difficult.”
Somehow, that of all things seemed to snap Martin out of his shock. “Oh, that’s fine! I’m used to difficult families!”
Doubtful. Martin hadn't met his family.
“So, you’ll do it? I don’t want to keep you from your weekend plans.”
Martin huffed. “What weekend plans? I’m currently living in my workplace, Jon. The only thing I’m doing during the weekends is waiting for Monday.”
“Right.”
“So I have no issues at all with being somewhere that is not here.”
Jon should be relieved, right? A part of him surely was, but now he was unsure about… well, Martin. They hadn’t spent that much time together, and even this short conversation felt like it had drained most of his energy. But well, too late for doubts now.
“Well, thank you for this, Martin. I’ll fill you in on the details?”
“Sure! Sure, I- um, should get back to work. That Miller-case and all!”
An awkward smile, a wave, and Martin fled his office. So far, so good. That was one problem solved, so Jon could finally get back to actually doing his work.
Or- well, there was still his cupcake and the tea. A short break wouldn’t hurt. A treat for not screwing up this conversation. Nobody could blame him for not letting his cupcake go stale, right?
That’s how Tim found him. Crumbs on his shirt and frosting on the tip of his nose, because Tim didn’t knock and wait. Tim just opened the door and then stood there, grinning.
If it were anyone else, Jon would’ve snapped.
“What?” Jon asked instead, only for Tim’s grin to grow bigger. “What is it?”
“Got yourself a date, bossman?”
Jon rolled his eyes and didn’t bother answering.
“Ditched me the first chance you got.”
“Not only was it your idea to ask Martin, but you also ditched me first!”
“Player.”
“Oh, shut it!”
“Do you need any help?”
Jon looked up from his mirror image. The hotel room had a full-length mirror that showed too well how trussed up he was in his saree. Taking the pin he held between his teeth out of his mouth, he nodded.
“Could you hold this part?”
Martin stepped behind him and Jon watched him through the mirror. He looked handsome, the midnight blue suit combined with an azure button-down complimented his eyes. Something was different with his hair, he must’ve slicked it back, which Jon figured did look neat. It still felt a bit off.
“Oh. Oh, that’s soft.”
Martin let the fabric of his saree run through his hands in wonder.
“It’s silk.”
“It’s absolutely beautiful.”
Yeah it was. The blues and purples swirling together in faint flower patterns.
“It was my grandma’s and she got it from her mother.”
“So like an heirloom.”
“Basically. They expect me to wear it.”
With Martin’s help, it was easy to pin it over his right shoulder and wrap the ends around his middle. That way it at least didn’t look too much like a dress. It was just fabric and nothing more, but even just wearing it like this, reminded him too much of his childhood. His grandma had been rather lenient with him, but not while visiting family.
“Is it too tight?” Martin asked and Jon tried not to look like he’d just bit into something sour.
“It’s fine. I just don’t like it.”
“I think it suits you.”
Jon sighed. He knew Martin didn’t mean it like that and this would be far from the only comment about his appearance today. Or the worst.
“Thank you. Ready to go?”
The hall was grand, drenched in glittery light, gold and cream. The people in their colorful clothes were moving around like flowers on a pond. Jon had visited many weddings and had few pleasant memories about the celebrations, but he could appreciate the aesthetic.
Next to him, Martin gasped. “Oh, this is well fancy.”
“You don’t want to know how much this costs,” Jon murmured as he threw his envelope in the highly decorated box at the entrance. There were already a ton of people milling around, and he took hold of Martin’s arm to not lose him.
They weaved through the tables, searching for their seat and that might as well decide the rest of the evening for him. Maybe he got lucky and was placed with strangers, or at least someone younger but-
He saw his great-aunt from afar and already knew he would be seated with her. She was the closest family he had left, which unfortunately also meant she felt responsible for his life decisions.
This was going to be a long evening.
He steered towards the table when he noticed that Martin had stopped. Jon turned to find him talking with one of his cousins.
Great.
He only caught the tail end of the conversation but it wasn’t anything new. Taking hold of Martin’s arm again, he physically dragged him away without so much as a hello. Not like his cousin had bothered with a greeting.
Martin looked a bit shellshocked.
“I warned you about my family.”
“Yeah but…” He was struggling with his words before asking, “Why was that guy mad at me?”
“Let me guess? He was annoyed that you let me walk around like this?”
Martin nodded. “What’s wrong with how you dress? Seems appropriate to me.”
“Well, you’re not stuck in the past where a single transperson is enough to shake your worldview.”
Martin stopped in his tracks, which meant Jon had to stop as well. Not like he had the strength to move Martin. He was just about to ask what was wrong when Martin beat him to it.
“You’re trans?”
For some endless moments Jon could do little more than stare at him. Which was fair, considering Martin did the same to him. Then he paled and brought both of his hands up.
“Sorry. Sorry, that was insensitive of me! I just-”
“You didn’t know?”
“You never told me!”
“I thought that was an open secret, or that at least Tim told you.”
Martin frowned. “Tim wouldn’t do that.”
Oh, because Martin could’ve taken that badly. Jon wasn't the best judge of character, but that wasn't something he had worried about, at least not with Martin. Still, it was better to make sure.
“Does that change things?”
“Oh god no! No, Jon. This is just… a lot.”
Yeah, it probably was. Huh, Jon had wondered how to fill the two-hour drive to the hotel, and this would’ve been a wonderful time to prepare Martin for the evening.
Too late now, and he could only watch Martin scrambling to put all the pieces together. His eyes darted from Jon’s face, to the saree he was wearing, back to his cousin, who was still glaring daggers at them.
“I kinda threw you into the deep end, sorry.”
“So this is what this is all about? Your family is all-”
“Oh yeah. If you wouldn’t be here, my great-aunt would’ve found an opportunity to introduce me to a very promising bachelor.”
“What, like an arranged marriage or something?”
“Still very much a thing in my culture.”
Martin gaped at him, and he could see the panic daring to take over. Jon wasn’t any better. This was going to be a disaster and he couldn’t blame Martin for it. Tim had made it look so easy and Jon had just assumed-
People were pushing past them to get to their seats and Jon was pretty sure he could feel the piercing eyes of his great-aunt. Was it too late to flee?
“So what do you expect me to be tonight?” Martin asked breathlessly.
“Be that promising bachelor? When I’m already in a relationship, they won’t try to get me into one.”
Martin took a calming breath and nodded, mostly to himself. “Promising bachelor, got it. I can do that.”
Could he?
Even at the best of times his confidence in Martin wasn’t sky-high, but it was just one evening. Jon just had to make it through a couple of hours until he could disappear.
“Ready?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay-”
His great-aunt was already waiting for them, her dismissive eyes darting first over Jon’s slacks and button-down, then the saree. Finally she found Martin and her smile was cold and cutting.
“Jonathan, so glad you could make it.” As always she said his name like it was a joke, a nickname of a petulant child.
Jon’s fingers dug into Martin’s arm before he realized what he was doing. He let go to kiss her cheek.
“It’s always a pleasure to see family,” he lied before pointing towards Martin. “Dadi ki bahan, this is Martin.”
They exchanged the usual pleasantries, and at least she let them sit, before she started with her interrogation.
“Now, Martin, what do you do for a living?”
From this point on Jon could already see how this evening would stretch on. The fake interest in both Jon’s and Martin’s workplace, the glances Jon would receive, so full of pity. That’s what had happened with Tim, even with all his charm.
A researcher? His great-aunt had asked once she got him alone. You could do better if you just decided to stop this act and-
“I’m a surgeon.”
Jon’s train of thought derailed and he just hoped he didn’t look as surprised as his great-aunt.
“A surgeon? How… surprising.”
“It sounds more exciting than it is. I’m not someone who saves lives for a living.”
“He doesn’t,” Jon agreed. He tried to catch Martin’s eyes, but then had to glance away before bursting into laughter.
“Don’t all surgeons save lives?”
“Less stress and more money being a plastic surgeon.”
Martin had found out about the situation not even five minutes ago and Jon had no idea where that story was coming from. Not that he was complaining, his great-aunt actually looked mildly impressed, which was certainly new.
“I was thinking our Jonathan looked slightly different.”
Oh really? Because Jon couldn’t remember changing anything besides getting a couple of grey hairs over the years. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to hide his smile.
Martin didn’t miss a beat.
“But it looks quite natural, doesn’t it?” Martin threw his arm over the back of Jon’s chair. “He might be my best work. Truly a masterpiece.”
Jon disguised his snort with a cough. He leaned into Martin’s arm and looked at his great-aunt challenging.
“Dadi ki bahan, how’s your family?”
What followed was the usual spiel. How her daughter had married into a good family, and her son was doing well for himself. A lawyer, as far as Jon remembered. Usually his dadi ki bahan would not shut up about that, but she moved on quickly. Maybe a lawyer didn’t hold a candle against a surgeon.
Oh, Martin’s next lunch would absolutely be paid by Jon.
Finally his great-aunt excused herself to mingle. Probably to tell everyone who would listen about the new surgeon in their family.
“I think you need to disclose every other employment to your boss,” Jon teased and watched the red rise in Martin’s cheeks. His arm quickly left his shoulders.
“Too much?”
“Not at all. Quite brilliant, actually.”
Martin’s blush only deepened. “You said something about a promising bachelor, and what’s more promising than a doctor? But I was worried that people would ask questions if I said that, so I thought a plastic surgeon was close enough. And… well, I was watching a bunch of House compilation last night because I couldn’t fall asleep.”
Jon burst into laughter. He didn’t mean to, and he certainly hadn’t expected this from today. Usually family gatherings were more of a bite-your-tongue-and-smile affair, but this was too good.
Martin smiled tentatively. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Why would I be? You cut down my interactions with my dadi ki bahan by at least 30 minutes. You can only listen to a list of men who are ready to meet me if I just change my appearance for so long.”
“Hot singles in your area,” Martin muttered under his breath, which just sent Jon into another laughing fit. Martin looked unreasonably proud before his face softened.
“I’m sorry your family is like that. That must be rough.”
“We can’t choose family, and in some way, I know they mean well. In their own, very backward way.” He spotted his great-aunt across the hall and shivered, when he saw her talking to a group of women.
“Do you know how to dance?”
Now there was panic on Martin’s face again. “Not… not particularly well.”
“Good, me neither. But I would like for you to ask me to dance, because if these aunties over there come over, we will not leave this table for the rest of the night.”
Martin stopped breathing and oh, Jon hadn’t even considered that Martin might not even want to dance with him. He was already doing so much, coming here, lying to Jon’s family, and now he was demanding even more?
But then Martin got up, buttoned up his suit jacket and offered his hand. The perfect gentleman.
“Dance with me?”
“Gladly.”
The evening was going well. Actually, better than well. Jon nearly dared to enjoy himself.
All his family seemed impressed that someone like him could score a plastic surgeon, and while that wasn’t enough to get rid of all the glares towards him, it made them easier to ignore. There was also the fact that Martin was, well, Martin. Tall and broad and always close by, so that neither of his aunties could take Jon aside, and berate him over the way he dressed or acted. It was refreshing.
And Martin was sweet. A part of Jon had known that Martin was nothing but kind to an extent that honestly had gone on his nerves quite a bit. An overbearing care that Jon shied away from like a cat from water.
Tonight he didn’t mind it too much. Positive attention wasn’t something he was used to while with his family. And that’s what Martin was giving him.
Arms pressed together or an easy hand on his shoulder. Casual touches that were always kept appropriate but showed everyone that Jon wasn’t on his own.
Or the small hiccup when Martin had brought him a glass of wine, and the resulting explanation that people looked down upon women drinking alcohol.
“You’re not a woman though.” The way he had said it, in childlike petulance, like it was a simple fact.
“You surprised me today,” Jon told him after Martin had so easily lured him away from yet another conversation that had turned way too personal.
The dancefloor was always crowded, but the music was loud enough to cover their conversation in between the other pairs. Martin had asked him to dance a total of three times already. It was an easy excuse to get out of tense situations.
“When I brought Tim, we spent most of the time laughing about how stupid my family was. That was fine, and he was charming towards them. Everyone loved him because, well…”
“Because he’s Tim.”
“Right.” Jon wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck without much thought. The awkwardness of the first time was gone, maybe because now that Jon was ‘allowed’ to drink wine, he’d taken a bit to it.
Martin hesitated a moment before putting his hands around his waist. A soft, barely there touch that Jon could barely feel over his saree. Martin had stopped after one glass of wine, and he didn’t have to explain why. He was staying vigilant, sharp. On the lookout for people who meant harm to Jon with their pointed words and sharp tongues.
Again, something that would usually get a visceral reaction from him. Tonight, Jon was basking in it. Mostly because he could feel his family watching, talking, and for once, they couldn’t reach him with their poison. No matter what they had said to him before, about being a disgrace to the family and how he would die alone, if he didn’t change-
Well, here he was with a surgeon who anticipated his every wish.
And of course, the wine. That might be a reason as well.
“So how am I faring?” Martin asked him and tugged a little on his body to get him to move. Right, Jon had kinda just stood there. Not that they were really dancing. Just swaying.
“It’s like you learned their rules and used them against them. Beating them in their own game. It’s honestly impressive.”
Martin’s eyes met his for a few heartbeats before they slipped away. That was fine, neither of them was good with eye contact.
“Guess that’s only fair, you also surprised me tonight.”
“I did?”
“You being trans, Jon.”
“Right, right. Really thought you knew.”
Martin huffed and Jon couldn’t help but grin, a bit sheepishly.
“That could’ve ended badly.”
“If I would’ve been an asshole and made a scene about it? Yeah, I’d say.”
“But my family would’ve loved you.”
Martin laughed, his eyes shining, a strange trick of the light here, surely. Well, Martin hadn’t been an asshole, and this evening turned out better than Jon could ever imagine.
All the days worrying about this wedding, the feeling of impending doom he’d carried with him, like he was constantly bracing for impact. It was all gone now, and he allowed his heavy head to rest against Martin’s chest.
Tomorrow he would chide himself for that weakness, about how inappropriate this was, but he was so tired. His life was in such a state of disarray ever since he took the position as head archivist but- but here, under golden light and hundreds of people around, all of that seemed so far away.
Martin had stopped moving, actually, he might’ve stopped breathing, like that would disturb Jon. But then his arms wrapped around Jon’s middle, warm and gentle. Not pulling or prodding, but rather like a shield, keeping all that badness at bay.
If only Jon could keep that feeling, bottle it up, to keep close to his heart whenever the world seemed too overwhelming. But that wasn’t possible. So for now, he closed his eyes to keep the glittering lights and the too familiar faces at bay. Just for a little bit, a few seconds, a heartbeat-
Martin’s steady hand on his arm brought him securely to their hotel room, and Jon just faceplanted into bed. It was late, long after midnight and his feet hurt and his head buzzed.
Somewhere behind him, Martin laughed.
Maybe that had been too much wine. Or too much of that cherry liquor that still coated the back of his throat. Sickening sweet and still Jon hadn’t hesitated to drink it, if only because it would piss off his family. An unreasonable action, of course. Childish, like a teen breaking the rules. Maybe that was exactly it, during his actual teens, his grandmother had an iron grip on his life, and he hadn’t dared to rebel against her.
Maybe he did now, dressing how he wanted, drinking if he desired, and showing up with a boyfriend who wasn’t even indian. Thinking about it-
“You should get tattoos.”
“Sure,” Martin easily agreed and then worked to get Jon’s shoes off. Which Jon could do himself, thank you. After he could lift his heavy head out of the blanket.
“There’s only one bed, so..?” Martin pointed out but Jon just huffed.
“Two beds. There’s a latch at the bottom holding them together.”
“Oh.” And then, a little quieter than before. “Oh. Yeah, of course. Makes sense.”
Jon opened one of his eyes to watch Martin get to his knees in search of the latch. He struggled a bit, before Jon could feel the beds separate. Or at least as far as they could without Jon getting lost in the crack.
Martin looked up, something amused in his face, like he was waiting for him to move, but the expression slipped away. Maybe because they were very close right now and Jon smoothed down the blanket to see him properly.
“Thank you for coming here with me, Martin.”
Martin’s eyes darted away, and a healthy redness spilled in his face. Did he have more alcohol than Jon had thought?
“Don’t… don’t mention it. I had good food and-” He seemed to choke on whatever he wanted to say next, before adding, “And an actual bed! Can you imagine not sleeping on a cot for a night?”
“True luxury.”
“Right? So we’re even.”
Jon didn’t think so, but he was also all done with thinking for a while now. He closed his tired eyes, fully aware that Martin was still watching him, and drifted off.
Chapter 2
Summary:
“Good work, Martin. You’ve improved.”
Martin’s eyes grew huge and whatever he tried to reply ended in useless stuttering. Was it mean to stay and watch him a little longer? Probably.
The decision was made for him when Tim piped up, “Is that favouritism towards your surgeon boyfriend?”
It had been over a week since the wedding, but Tim didn’t tire of that joke.
Chapter Text
Jon placed the folder on Martin’s desk and stuck a post it note on top. The whole purpose was not to bother Martin while he worked on the new recording, but Martin was already slipping his headphones off.
“I screwed it up again?”
“The report is good, but you used the wrong font.” He tapped the post it note that said the same. “There’s also no reason to change the font size. Just because it looks like more, doesn’t mean it is.”
Martin deflated before his eyes. “Sorry…”
Jon hesitated. After the wedding, it felt weird seeing Martin so meek. Or rather, it should be the other way around, but the confidence, while surprising, suited Martin.
“It’s an easy fix. Like I said, the report itself was fine.”
“I’ll do it right away and-”
“There’s no need to rush. Just see that I have it on my desk by the end of the day.”
“Sure, yeah. Of course, Jon.”
Jon nodded and was already halfway to Tim’s desk when he stopped. Usually the thought wouldn't even cross his mind, but well, he tried to do better, didn’t he?
“Good work, Martin. You’ve improved.”
Martin’s eyes grew huge and whatever he tried to reply ended in useless stuttering. Was it mean to stay and watch him a little longer? Probably.
The decision was made for him when Tim piped up, “Is that favouritism towards your surgeon boyfriend?”
It had been over a week since the wedding, but Tim didn’t tire of that joke.
“It isn’t.” He threw Tim a folder. “It’s favouritism because my surgeon boyfriend didn’t end up calling Mister Schmidt Schmitz twice in his report.”
“Oh shit, did I really?”
“You did. And edit out the joke on page 2, it’s inappropriate.”
“Jon, the guy has nightmares about his parrot telling him his future. You can’t expect me not to make a joke about that.”
“I very much do expect that.”
“Every single prediction was a quote from Thomas Harris, and guess which audiobook I found when I followed up!”
“I know, I read the report.” He tried his hardest to keep his amusement out of his voice. “Still, calling his dream parrodictions might be a bit much.”
Sasha wasn’t even in the bullpen, but he could hear her laughter from somewhere further in the archives. Tim looked positively proud at that.
“See? A banger.”
“You have until noon.”
“Oh, come on! That’s unfair! You gave Martin more time!”
“There’s that favoritism.”
Martin made a little choked up sound, but when both Jon and Tim turned towards him, his headphones were back in place. Considering the colour of his face though, Jon doubted he was doing any work.
“There wasn’t any favoritism when you introduced me to your family,” Tim pointed out.
“Well, you weren’t a surgeon.”
They both watched Martin sink as far into his chair as he could, the parts of his face still visible behind his laptop, bright red. Satisfied with his work, Jon made his way back into his office.
The knock at his door was hesitant and short enough to miss, leaving no surprise to find Martin waiting for him.
“What is it?”
Martin had already brought him his afternoon tea, which, now that Jon was interrupted in his work, was still waiting for him, stone cold and half empty.
“We’re heading out to the pub and Sasha suggested I might have more luck dragging you with us.”
“Because of..?”
“The whole boyfriend thing, yes.” The topic always left Martin flushed, but him actually saying it, made him trip over his words.
Jon watched him fidget and for the first time he wondered if maybe this wasn’t just harmless teasing for him. “One word and I’ll tell everyone to stop bothering you with the thing.”
“Oh, I-”
“You know how this place can be. The second Rosie so much as hears about it, everyone will know.” Because some people just liked rumors, for whatever inane reason. Who knew if things hadn’t already spread, it wasn’t like Jon was talking to a lot of people outside the archives.
Actually, Martin probably knew more about that than him.
To his surprise, Martin shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s all in good fun, so if you don’t mind..?”
“It’s certainly something better to think about than the impending doom of getting eaten by worms.”
Martin winced, so Jon’s joke had probably been tasteless.
“Sorry.”
“Ah, no, it’s…” Martin shrugged and for the first time since entering the room, his eyes settled on Jon. “So are you coming to the pub or do I have to guilt-trip you?”
“Martin, I have all this work left-”
“I did come to the wedding with you.”
Jon’s protest died a quick, rattling death in his throat and he was surprised by how effective that was. Martin looked, well, he looked smug and Jon wheezed out something that was maybe a laugh.
“Oh, you’re playing dirty.”
“You can say no.”
It was tempting to close this folder that had eaten up the past hours and forget about it until Monday. He could use a drink, but he was finally making progress with his case.
“Next week?” he asked, tentatively.
“Promise?”
“I’m not a child.” The words came out too harsh and before he could stop them. He watched as the mirth in Martin’s eyes dimmed and disappeared, the welcomed teasing dying on the spot. Martin’s eyes slipped away.
“Right. My bad.”
The door closed and Jon sat there, staring at it. His chest hurt, something like shards of glass digging in his skin. As if he’d destroyed something new and fragile.
His eyes burned by the time Jon closed the folder. He had made his way into the library, now that everyone had left, simply to be closer to any information he might need. It hadn't helped, not when he could hear Tim's voice echo in his thoughts.
"Library's haunted. Martin just told me."
"There are no such things as ghosts."
"But if they were, I assure you they would haunt our library."
Stupid thing to think about. Ridiculous, this was an academic institute, and there was no place for playground rumors. Being alone in such a massive, barely lit room and feeling nervous was perfectly natural. No need to think about ghosts.
For entirely unrelated reasons, Jon cut his work short and made his way to gather his things. He moved through the archives with ease, his mind still trying to crack down on the case when a yell snapped him out of his focus.
Jon froze, hand still on the light switch after he'd just dropped their break room into darkness. Slowly, he flipped the switch again and found a very distressed, very pale Martin sitting at the table.
"Oh."
"Do you want to kill me?" Martin snapped at him, which, huh, Jon was pretty sure Martin had never snapped at him before. But there he was, one hand pressed against his heaving chest, the other wrapped around his corkscrew.
"Sorry, I-" thought I was alone. Most likely the same thing Martin had thought.
"I've been telling myself for an hour that what I'm hearing is just this old building settling, and then you just come in here and switch off the light?"
"I thought I left it on earlier and-"
"It's like a bad horror movie! For a second I was sure your eyes were glowing! God dammit, Jon!" Martin took a deep breath, and the death grip he kept on the corkscrew eased. He still sat there, looking shell-shocked before he let his head hang, both hands now braced against his knees.
"I think I'm going to be sick. You scared me so bad, I'm gonna hurl."
Jon still hadn't moved. A startled part of him wanted to switch the light off again, like that would make the situation disappear. Instead he forced himself into action.
"Sorry," he repeated. He got Martin a glass of water, as if the finest London tap water would help against a rebelling stomach. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"What are you even doing here? Jon, it's nearly 10 pm!"
Which was, of course, a rhetorical question, considering the files now on the kitchen counter. Martin took one look at them and groaned. "You really need a hobby. I live here but somehow you manage to spent even more time here."
There wasn't much he could say in defense, so instead Jon stayed quiet. He'd been ready to just get home, but now that seemed rude. Sitting down, he watched as Martin downed the water.
"How was the pub?" he asked because he couldn't think of anything else that didn't involve worms, ghosts or night terrors. Probably topics Martin would rather avoid right now.
"Didn't drink enough for this right here," Martin muttered. He buried his face in his hands, but that couldn't cover up the big sigh he let out. "Go home, Jon. One of us at least can."
Right. Martin had seen enough of him for one day and it was the weekend after all. Who liked to spend time with their boss on the weekend?
But as he stepped into his office, to gather his bag, he wasn't too sure about this anymore. Last weekend had been… good, right? And Martin had mentioned he'd enjoyed getting out of the institute for once.
Jon had only ever thought about what risk having Martin here was. The threat of worms, the very real possibility of Martin spilling tea on important documents, but he'd never considered how Martin must feel down here. The archives weren't exactly cozy, with their long stacks of chaos where shadows gathered, and the institute itself was huge and empty, a building like a yawning grave.
When he returned to the break room, Martin was rinsing out the glass he'd used. He just stood there, letting the water run over his hands, his gaze on the wall, which had probably been white at some point before. He seemed miles away.
This time Jon cleared his throat and Martin turned towards him. Polite, if tired smile. "Good night, Jon. Enjoy your weekend."
"Do you like ramen?" Jon asked. "Tim told me about this new restaurant close by."
"I know, I was there as well."
The sound of the running water made Jon squirm. A part of him wanted to abord the mission, tell Martin not to waste water and then leave. Instead he forced himself to go on, "We could go there and- and you could stay at my place?"
The glass slipped from Martin's hand and into the sink. It didn't break, at least Jon couldn't hear any shattering, and still he winced. Mostly because Martin stared at him like he'd proposed a murder.
"What?"
"I assure you, my place would be more comfortable than the cot."
"You do realize how rich this is coming from you. You always had the option to go home and yet-"
"Yes, yes. I am well aware, Martin."
There was a beat of silence and finally, Martin moved to turn off the tap.
"You want to take me home?"
"That's what I said." Was that so outrageous of him?
He watched as Martin saved the glass and took all the time in the world drying it off. The drip, drip of the water hitting the sink was somehow deafening in the tense silence between them.
"Alright," Martin finally said. "Just let me grab some of my stuff."
"Sure."
Leaving the institute felt weird. Jon hadn't worried too much about spending time with Martin; during the wedding he had even enjoyed the company. But now he had to admit that he may have made a mistake. The tension between them made him nervous and he couldn't quite read the glances Martin threw him. There was that one moment, before they had even reached the tube, where Martin's hand met his. Nothing but a brush of skin, a sudden shock of warmth that made Jon jump.
It didn't happen again.
Notes:
As always, clear communication in the Jmart department
Chapter 3
Summary:
Tim put his elbows on the desk and rested his chin in his palms. "So Martin is staying with you for now?"
Chapter Text
"So," was all Tim said when he squeezed underneath Jon's arm and into his office. Jon, who had just returned from the restroom and had planned to continue working, saw his plans vanish into smoke.
"Sure, Tim, come in."
"Already did. Sit down, Jon."
"This is my office!"
"Details!" Tim waved him off like he was the nuisance here, but well, Jon could hardly just go away. So he let himself drop into his chair and faced Tim. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't work-related?"
"Because it's after 5 pm and every normal person would be on their way home."
Jon gave him a blank look and with a great big sigh, Tim leaned closer. "I only have one question for you."
"Go ahead."
"Why did you hand Martin your keys and send him home?"
Jon frowned. "I didn't. I gave him my spare keys."
"And then send him home."
"Like you said, his work day ended."
Tim put his elbows on the desk and rested his chin in his palms. "So Martin is staying with you for now?"
There was something pointed in the question, but that wasn't the first time Jon had faced that. Sasha had asked the same thing when they arrived together this morning.
"We all know Martin wasn't doing well here."
"I know but how did you get him to agree? I offered him to stay the weekend a couple of times already, but he always told me he didn't want to bother me."
Huh, Jon hadn't known that but thinking about it, he probably should've. Tim and Martin seemed to be getting along fine.
"I might have caught him at a… vulnerable moment." Yeah, that had to be it. It would explain the awful tension that had hung between them that Friday night. The glances Martin would shoot him, the stilted conversation during dinner. Like Martin had waited for something, maybe for Jon to send him back into the archives.
Well, that hadn't happened, and after offering Martin his couch and a proper shower, things had improved. Actually, living together with Martin was fine. He was quiet and considerate, and Jon's flat had never been cleaner. Martin had even cooked last night and while not a gourmet meal, it was better than whatever Jon could throw together.
All in all it had been a pleasant surprise and when Monday rolled around, rainy and dark, it had just seemed wrong to leave him behind in the archives.
"He did need some proper sleep," Tim muttered beneath his breath and yeah, that. It had only been three nights, but there was some color back in his face now.
"You think I made a mistake?" That question had haunted him since last week. Maybe he dared to ask now because the door was closed, it was after work hours and this was Tim. And Tim was as close to a friend as he had.
Jon was being considerate for once and yeah, maybe he had invited Martin out of guilt. Because Martin hadn't hesitated to join him for the wedding and made the weekend enjoyable. Meanwhile Jon had failed him. Martin had waited nearly two weeks in his flat, scared to death by Jane Prentiss, and Jon hadn't spared more than a passing thought for his absence.
Still, Martin had never blamed him for that. Jon wasn't sure why, he certainly deserved it.
"It's not a mistake," Tim told him. "Just don't… I don't know, snap at him and throw him out or something. That's the least he needs right now."
The 'I wouldn't' was already on the tip of Jon's tongue, but then he thought better of it. Tim was right; he wasn't the most welcoming person.
"I'll try."
When he got home, it wasn't to a dark, abandoned flat. There was light and music, and he was sure he could hear Martin humming along to it. He was in the kitchen, and Jon could hear the spitting of oil before hanging up his coat. It smelled garlicy, and his stomach grumbled.
"I'm home!" he called so he wouldn't scare Martin again, and kinda felt like he was in an old sitcom. Then again those types of shows probably wouldn't have two men living together.
The radio was turned down.
"You're early today! Dinner is ready in fifteen minutes!"
Stepping into his kitchen, Jon stopped for a moment just to watch. He had been living in this flat for a couple of years now, but for the first time it felt alive. Which was, of course, stupid, it was just that the curtains were pulled open, dancing in the breeze coming from the window. There was a fruit bowl with actual fruit sitting on the table. Jon wasn't even sure where it had come from but Martin insisted that he hadn't brought it.
The light beneath the cupboard was on so that Martin could work properly, and his silhouette was stark and dark against the golden hue. Now that Jon was here, he stopped humming.
"You went shopping?" Jon asked needlessly, considering that his shelves were for once filled. The cereal box was gone, which was good. He hadn't dared to open it in the past couple of weeks in fear of finding something alive.
"Had to pick up stuff anyway, so I figured I might as well." Martin threw him a look over his shoulder. "Do you mind?"
Usually Jon would mind. This was his place and he could look after himself. But his neck hurt from being bent over statements all day and he really hadn't looked forward to getting groceries. Or rather, he hadn't thought about it and wouldn't have bothered today. Or tomorrow. Maybe Saturday if he could force himself.
"You're fine. I'll hop in the shower."
"Okay."
During his time in Oxford he had a roommate who had been a nightmare. They'd been messy and loud and had a lot of company over. Jon had quickly spent most of his time at Georgie's place, if only to escape. Probably how they got together, because honestly, he still wasn't too sure about that one.
Thankfully Martin was considerate and kept out of his way. The bathroom was still partly filled with steam from Martin's shower, but there weren't any yucky hairs stuck anywhere, and his little collection of shampoo and shower gel were safely tucked aside. Each morning, by the time Jon got up, the couch was back to its usual state. The blanket and pillows were neatly hidden away.
Martin living here wasn't a nuisance but… comfortable. Huh, who would've thought?
So it just… continued like that. Early mornings with breakfast ready and riding the tube together. Work like usual, and then Martin would head home. Or drag him home, more often than not. An actual cooked meal from either of them. TV shows or reading books or just keeping out of the other's way.
It was easy.
Elias was droning on about productivity, scheduling, and motivation. Most certainly to remind Jon that all three of these things were less than stellar in the archives.
Surely, the threat of being eaten alive by worms would impact work morale and performance negatively, but by 15%? Didn’t he see the state the archives were in?
Jon agreed because what else was he to do? Tell the truth that it was impossible to clean up decade old neglect in just a few months? While two of his employees had already met two types of creatures, that left Sasha hurt and Martin living in the archives?
His phone ringing was a welcome distraction, even if it meant getting yet another dismissive look from Elias.
Martin was calling and that was unusual. First, because Martin hated bothering him and also because he knew fully well he was in a meeting with Elias. After all he had gone on and on about how Elias should schedule these meetings in their actual work time and not after.
“My apologies but…”
“No harm done,” Elias lied and Jon had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Martin?” he asked as he picked up, only to be instantly greeted by,
“Hey, babe!”
He might as well have hit Jon in the throat, that would be something Jon could at least explain. Martin calling him babe was something he wouldn’t have been able to predict at all.
And he wasn’t the only one, considering that Elias’ eyebrows made their way to outer space, he’d clearly heard the same as Jon.
Jon struggled for a reply, but thankfully Martin didn’t wait for whatever nonsense he would’ve come up with.
“Are you still at the store? You know a surprise only works when you’re here to surprise me.”
Surprise? What surprise? Jon tried to wreck his brain but came up empty.
“Don’t forget your great-aunt's favorite tea. I just took the last bag, and surely she wants some more after you got home from picking up dinner for everyone.”
Oh god.
Oh god, his great-aunt was at his flat. Where Martin was right now.
Jon forced himself to clear his throat. “Just my dadi ki bahan or..?”
“Four portions should be enough but you don’t have to be stingy. Get some nice dessert.”
“I-”
“Don’t leave our guests waiting!”
“I’m gonna pick something up on my way home and I’ll be right there. I’m so sorry, Martin!”
Martin sighed, and Jon could imagine seeing his shoulders slump in relief.
“Okay, good.” There was a pause where Jon already moved his thumb to hang up, when Martin followed up with a very rushed, “Love you!”
“I love you too,” Jon said before he could stop himself. Mostly because that was the expected answer, right? Maybe not, considering that Martin made a noise like he’d choked on his own tongue and then promptly hung up.
Jon let his phone sink and, right, Elias.
At this point he had little hope of ever retrieving his eyebrows.
The silence stretched on for too long, awkward and heavy and Jon was dying inside. The only reason he wasn’t fully frozen was that everything in him wanted to jump up and hurry home.
“Seems like there’s a family emergency on your end,” Elias said very slowly. “I guess we could continue our conversation at a more convenient time.”
Jon was pretty sure their newly scheduled meeting just got a couple more bullet points but that was a problem for his future self. If he survived today.
45 Minutes. 45 Minutes from the moment Jon darted out of the institute doors until he reached his front door. A manic dash to get any form of take-out, transport it through the London tube system so it still represented food, until he finally took the three stairs up to his flat. By the time he got there, he was out of breath, sweaty and probably looked like a hunted man.
Martin opened the door with a big smile.
"There you are!" He leaned down, his cheek brushing Jon's in a mock kiss. Close enough to whisper, "Do something!"
His great-aunt was sitting at his kitchen table, watching with hawk eyes, so all he could do was nod.
"Dadi ki bahan," he greeted her and then nodded to the other woman also sitting there. Honestly, he had no idea who she was. Probably some distant relative, but she at least looked halfway apologetic. His great-aunt did not.
Martin tried to take the food from his hands, only to be instantly bombarded with nos.
"You worked hard all day," his great-aunt told him and gestured for him to sit down.
"Jon did as well!"
That was a nice sentiment, but Jon could've told him it didn't work like that. Instead he squeezed Martin's shoulder. "Just relax, dear."
He'd never seen Martin more uncomfortable. There was a busy activity in the kitchen between the three of them, while Martin had to just sit there, wringing his hands. Even his attempt to offer more tea was shut down, when his maybe-relative instantly jumped to start the kettle.
Two excruciatingly long hours later, Jon could finally close the door behind them, but of course not without yet another cutting remark. Something about not being home with dinner ready for his man. Because that had been the true problem today. But he knew a lost battle when he saw one, so he just agreed to do better.
He found Martin on his couch, face buried in his hands and yeah, same. Jon let himself drop next to him and felt all strength leave his body.
"Sorry."
Martin nodded without revealing his face. Fair.
For the longest time they just sat there, listening to the blissful silence and, in Jon's case, not thinking about what a mess this day had been. Finally Martin lifted his head with a big sigh.
"So are we going to marry now or what?"
"Just because my dadi ki bahan wants us-" Jon stopped when Martin handed over a little envelope.
"Don't know, Jon. Your dowry is kinda tempting."
He opened the envelope and took several seconds just staring at the number written in his great-aunt's tiny writing.
"Huh."
"Is that… is that accurate?"
"It's more than I anticipated. Probably because you are a surgeon, you would marry someone beneath you."
Martin's face went through a couple of complicated expressions before landing on disgust. "It's like they're selling you."
Not knowing what to say to that, Jon shrugged. He threw the envelope onto the coffee table and couldn't help but notice how Martin's eyes tracked the movement. Well, it was a lot of money that Jon probably would never see.
Letting his head drop into the cushions, he looked up at the ceiling. "I don't even know who this other woman was."
He didn't expect Martin to huff out a laugh. "I'm pretty sure her husband cornered me in the bathroom during the wedding."
"He did?"
"Yeah, he um… wanted to talk about some improvements for her."
"Improvements," Jon muttered before it clicked. "Oh, from you? Like plastic surgery?"
"Bingo."
"That's awful."
"Apparently my work was impressive."
"Your work as in me?"
Jon turned his head to find Martin already watching him. He was pressing his lips together not to laugh and well, the day had been awful, so he could either ridicule it or cry.
"I'm guessing he wasn't talking about my tits."
Martin's eyes grew big and his hand flew up to cover his mouth. "Quite the opposite."
"Well, she did have a flat ass."
"Jon!" Like Martin wasn't dissolving into giggles. That was better than the quiet exhaustion from before and Jon had to grin as well. Without thinking about it, he scooted closer until their shoulders touched.
Martin's laughter stopped, but he didn't move away. Good.
"What a day," Jon mumbled mostly to himself but he could feel Martin nod. For a while that was it, just sitting there and letting the adrenaline die down before Martin burst out, "God, I need a drink."
Actually, a fantastic idea. "There's a pub just down the street."
"This is London, there's a pub down every street."
"Let's go then."
When Martin didn't answer, Jon turned his head. There was a healthy flush on his face, but not enough to drown out his freckles. He was staring straight ahead, like the TV was the most fascinating thing in the room. It wasn't, it was dark, and when Jon checked on it, he could only see their reflections looking back.
Ah, maybe Martin had enough action after today. Or had enough of him, which honestly would be reasonable. Or he just wanted to be on his own for once.
Jon just opened his mouth, hoping to come up with a believable excuse when Martin whispered, "Yeah, okay."
"You sure?"
Martin hesitated for a moment, before he laughed. There was something disbelieving in the noise and he rubbed his face, like he wanted to wake up.
"As long as you're buying?"
Jon had to grin. "I think that's the least I can do after today."
Notes:
The Elias scene was honest to god the first scene I wrote when I had that idea
Chapter 4
Summary:
The relationship between Jon and him.
The one that didn't exist.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Martin stared at the new mail. It was from HR, which always sent him into a quiet panic. He was pretty sure that if his lies ever came out, Elias would just call him in to fire him. Still, he couldn't be certain.
With clammy fingers he opened the mail and-
Workplace Relationship Form
"What the fuck?" The words left his mouth without his permission. Sasha looked up from behind her PC.
"Everything okay?"
"Did you get a strange email from HR?"
She took a moment to check on her mails, before shaking her head. "Nothing. Why, what's going on?"
It was a rhetorical question, because in the next second she was behind him, reading over his shoulder. Behind her round glasses, her eyes grew huge.
It wasn't just the attached document, there was a whole exchange between HR and Elias about him and Jon. And the risks. And the dilemma between boss and subordinate, which wouldn't end in favouritism, according to Elias. Because he would keep a watchful eye on their relationship.
The relationship between Jon and him.
The one that didn't exist.
"What the fuck?" Sasha agreed once they reached the bottom of the exchange. He could feel her piercing gaze, "Are you and Jon..?"
"No!"
Heat shot into his face and he tried very much not to think about visiting the bar last night. Or dinner with Jon's relatives. Or the dowry offered to him.
"Well, the whole institute will think you are now."
"Clearly this is a misunderstanding-" The words died on his tongue when he followed Sasha's outstretched finger.
Rosie. Rosie was in the CC.
Groaning, Martin let his head drop into his hands. Well, in all his little daydreams, getting together with Jon had played out differently.
"That's not your mess to clean up."
He could hear the printer come to life and a few seconds later Sasha put the document in front of him. "Clearly Jon has done something. Let him fix this."
"I don't want to bother him…"
She gave him a good long look and Martin felt himself grow small beneath it. She was right and with a sigh, he got up.
Jon wasn't in his office, which unfortunately meant he was somewhere in the depths of the archives. A room with a low ceiling that seemed to go on endlessly. It always smelled like mold in here and the old, wooden shelves looked like they could topple down under their own weight any minute now. Even at the best of times Martin didn't like it here, the shadows were too dark in the corners, the old lamps made a low humming noise and just started to flicker sometimes. A week or so ago, Tim had found a cluster of worms in the depths and now Martin felt like he was in a horror movie, just waiting for the jump scare.
It came in form of Jon, just sitting in between the shelves, spider webs in his hair and circle of papers around him. Honestly, one day Martin would just walk in on him drawing a pentagram or something.
"Jon?"
A grunt, while Jon was still squinting at the statements.
"You're going to ruin your eyes."
"My eyes are fine."
Martin held out the document for him and Jon blinked at him like an owl. "What's that?"
"That's what I wanted to ask you. Why does Elias think we're in a relationship?"
Jon snatched the document out of his hands and read through it. His eyes widened with each line.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Kinda went through HR and well… Rosie knows about it."
Jon knew very little about his coworkers but even he pulled a face. "That's not… ideal."
"How did that happen?"
"Remember when you called me yesterday?"
Like Martin could forget that. Jon had very casually told him he loved him, like Martin's heart could take any more stress. Which of course had just been a reflex because Martin had said the same. But he had to, considering the way Jon's great-aunt had stared at him and listened to every word he'd said.
But now that he thought about it, he felt himself pale. "Oh god, your meeting with Elias?"
"Yeah."
"He heard the whole thing?"
Jon nodded and Martin leaned against the shelf. It creaked and bent, so he quickly stopped doing that. God, he had called Jon babe. Mostly to warn him that this wasn't a normal call and well, a bit of revenge for bringing him into these situations.
"I'll take care of this," Jon promised like the damage wasn't already done. The email was less than fifteen minutes old, but it was nearly lunchtime and by then Rosie would've worked her magic.
"I'll leave it up to you then." So why did it feel like a mistake?
Martin was screaming. Not openly, of course. Somewhere deep inside. A continuous, panicked scream that wouldn't stop. Like that one painting. Scream? No, that was a movie. The Scare? Didn’t sound right.
He looked it up and nope, he was right the first time. The Scream by Edvard Munch, right, right. Learn something new every day, or at least until he closed the tab again and forgot the name as well.
For now he just stared at the Google image and thought, yeah. Yeah, that was him right now. Hands pressed against his face, screaming. Not quite in horror, even though there was the whole Jane Prentiss thing and nearly getting eaten by worms and all the other statements-
So okay, he was also screaming in horror. But here was the thing. You could get used to horror, the latent feeling of threat, the bracing for impact. At some point it was just the new exhausting normal.
He couldn’t get used to Jon.
Jon had invited him to the wedding. Surprising, but normal. He’d asked Tim first, which made sense. These two were friends and Jon’s family already knew him. No reason to be jealous.
But then they’d had fun and they’d danced and Jon had leaned his heavy head against his chest, and Martin had felt larger than life. There had been a tension in each conversation between Jon and his family, a tension that Martin knew all too well, and Jon had just… trusted him to deal with it. Shield and protect him.
Also Jon snored. Well, maybe only when he was drunk, but he’d lain in his bed after the wedding, in an angle that would kill Martin’s neck and snored like an old man.
Martin had spent the rest of the night with his face hidden behind his hands, trying not to squeal. He’d already been screaming at that point and had never stopped.
Oh, and then moving in together because of course. Just friends helping each other out, right? Friends, who had dinner with Jon’s great-aunt, where she had spent the time before Jon arrived, talking about Martin’s intention and what kind of dowry he could expect.
Friends, who filled out the Workplace Relationship Form. Because that was what Jon had done. There it was in Martin's inbox. How considerate of Jon to give him a copy when he was already mailing it to Elias and HR.
Martin looked back at The Scream and maybe that wasn’t quite right. He’d recently watched the video about that one warehouse with the shelves all falling like dominoes. One after another with no force in the world to stop them, and each time he thought they would slow down, they’d just start again. That was currently his life and he was standing aside, just watching, screaming.
But he made no move to stop it. He could just move back into the institute (but the way Jon would look at him-) or go to Elias and tell him they weren’t in a relationship (but the way Elias would look at him-).
He wasn’t going to. Too much of a coward for that, and that wasn’t even the worst part. He was used to his cowardice after all, but this right here? He was just lying to himself.
These tiny moments when he closed his eyes and indulged. When he was home before Jon and got dinner started, or how he knew that if he went shopping, he better brought back the whole grain bread and not the one with the hard crust.
Or how their mornings were such a routine already. How even though Jon needed more time to crawl out of bed, Martin could time breakfast just right. That way they could both eat in companionable silence while checking on their phones.
(How Jon could fall asleep on the couch after a long day, breathing evenly and face slack. How if Martin scooted a little closer and held very still, Jon would gravitate towards him, leaning his little weight against his shoulder. And that was so wrong and creepy and Martin couldn't stop)
And now he had an actual document to let him know they were dating. Which, hey, was news to him!
The scream dared to bubble up into something audible and he leaned back in his chair. This was ridiculous. Either Martin had seriously missed something here, or Jon had crossed a line. Martin had agreed to play his boyfriend in front of his family- no wait, actually scratch that. He hadn't. He had agreed to be Jon's plus one. As a friend. That had been Jon's words, and then he had jumped the whole situation on him like it was no big deal.
But this was his workplace, this was his livelihood. Elias could probably twist this into something.
There was a bang coming from Jon's office but Martin hardly reacted. The mail was there, mocking him, threatening him. Sasha was the one who checked on it and Martin could hear their conversation in the background. Something about a spider, something about a shelf collapsing.
And then Jane Prentiss attacked, and suddenly, the mail wasn't a high priority anymore.
Notes:
Damn you Jane, getting in the way of them actually communicating! (kidding, kidding. No way they would've)
Chapter 5
Summary:
"You're a good man, Martin."
He wasn't. Everything he'd told her was a lie. From the moment they'd met, to even now. The guilt dared to creep in before he could remind himself as to why Jon had asked him to lie.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Careful."
Martin expected Jon to snap at him for that. Something along the lines of "of course I'm careful! Thanks for the reminder!" but surprisingly he didn't. So Martin didn't point out that Jon should've stayed in the hospital.
But no, nearly getting eaten by worms wasn't enough to keep him there. Honestly, Martin couldn't blame him. He also hated hospitals and Jon's flat was more comfortable.
Closing the door, he hurried back to Jon's side. He was leaning heavily on his crutch, but took the offered arm without any protest.
"Do you want to sit down on the couch and I-"
"Bedroom."
Oh, that bad then?
At this point, Martin was taking most of Jon's weight and tried not to worry over his ashen face or the sour smell of sweat coming from him. The second they reached the bedroom, Jon let himself drop into the bed and then hissed when the motion pulled on his wounds.
It was stuffy in here, three days where neither of them had been home and Martin went to open the window. When he returned Jon hadn't moved, he was just breathing through the pain and Martin's heart ached.
"Can I get you something?"
Head shake. He was still wearing his jacket but with how he was grasping the duvet, Martin doubted he was ready to deal with it. So Martin did what he did best. Make tea.
As a child he'd always thought tea was the closest thing to magic. It was like a potion, soothing aches, clearing fatigue and making everything comfortable. Then he'd grown up and realized that the world was never that easy. Today he hoped that enough sugar would do the trick.
When he returned, there was some color back in Jon's face and his death grip on the blanket had eased. Martin didn't jump to his side and wrestle the jacket from him himself, but he couldn't bite down on his tongue. "You should've stayed in the hospital."
"So that I can lie in another bed?" There was barely any heat to the words and when Jon finally threw his jacket from him, he sank into his pillow with a sigh.
Martin hovered for a moment longer, before saying, "Well, holler for me if you need anything."
He made his way back to the living room and then just… sat there. There were a thousand things to do but his body felt too heavy to move, his mind still reeling from the close call with Prentiss. It was like all the adrenaline finally left his system after spending the past days in constant terror.
Then again what was he complaining about? It was Tim and Jon who got the worst of it. Even though Martin had brought Prentiss to the institute, he'd been safe in the tunnels. And he had found Gertrude! First time seeing a dead body and well, that could've been worse, right?
(Could've been his mom. He had always been certain of that, of the first dead person being her. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was always sure he would open the door to her room and find her gone. He didn't know what to feel about that)
There was a knock on the front door and Martin dragged his dry eyes up. Hopefully just a neighbour bringing them their mail. That was about all he could deal with anymore.
Jon's great-aunt.
She pushed herself past him, a casserole smelling like garlic and curry in her hand, as she placed it in the kitchen. Martin took a deep breath and held it in until his lungs ached.
Right. Right, closest relative. The hospital must have informed her.
"Jon's in bed, trying to sleep."
"Should've stayed in the hospital," she grumbled as she peered into the fridge with a deep frown. "But Jon was always too stubborn for his own good. Always! He would never listen to advice."
Martin didn't want to agree with her but she wasn't wrong. Which was frustrating. Beneath her breath, she muttered a few words, Martin didn't recognize and then proceeded to throw things from the fridge away. Fair, Martin had wanted to do the same for the longest time.
"I'll stay here for now," she told him and his heart sank.
"That's not nece-"
"You can go back to work."
Well, no, he couldn't. His workplace was currently a crime scene because of the body he'd found, and a biohazard considering the thousands of worm carcasses in every nook. And Jane Prentiss' remains.
But that wasn't something Martin could just tell her. Oh, and he wasn't working with Jon. Or in the archives. He was a plastic surgeon.
"I took the week off to take care of Jon." Yeah, that sounded better. No worms, a nice explanation why he was here that didn't involve him being basically homeless. He just didn't expect her to stop in her aggressive tidying, to stare at him.
For the first time her features softened.
"You're a good man, Martin."
He wasn't. Everything he'd told her was a lie. From the moment they'd met, to even now. The guilt dared to creep in before he could remind himself as to why Jon had asked him to lie. The tense conversation between him and every member of his family, sharp tongues and pointed words.
Still.
Here she was, a homemade meal ready and helping in the way she could. She had worried about Jon; he could see it in the lines on her face and with a sigh, Martin let it go. That was all too complicated right now, and he was too exhausted to work through it.
"Lie down," she told him. "You probably didn't get much sleep last night. I have this handled."
A good idea and while it felt wrong to have someone else take care of the flat, he felt like he could sleep like a rock. The problem only dawned on him as he left the bathroom, when his feet automatically carried him into the living room.
She was already there, putting up the ironing board that both Jon and he had aggressively ignored. Right. So the bedroom.
Jon was out cold when he entered and still Martin didn't dare to step closer.
"Jon?" he whispered but got no reaction. No, Jon had his face buried in a pillow with one arm dangling from the bed, like that wasn't how monsters got you.
In theory, the bed was big enough, but Martin was broad and just thinking about… well, touching, send heat into his face. Usually that would leave him spiraling, but not today. He was too tired for that and what else was he supposed to do? Drag the blanket to the ground and sleep there? What if Jon's great-aunt checked up on them? How was he supposed to explain that?
No. He was tired and his body ached and he'd spent the last days scared for his and his friends' lives. He was going to sleep in this bed and if Jon had a problem with that, he shouldn't have brought Martin into this mess.
The sheets were cold against his skin, even with Jon next to him. There was also only one pillow, but that was okay, Martin didn't need one. He bodily turned away from Jon and closed his eyes.
"Martin!"
He grasped the hand touching him and stared up at the figure above.
Jon. Not Jane, not Gertrude.
It was just Jon, wincing. Martin let go of his wrist instantly. "Sorry!"
"You're fine," Jon promised and rubbed over his bandages. They were dotted with red. God, hopefully that hadn't been because of him.
"You were having a nightmare."
That explained the way Martin's heart thundered in his chest. He pressed his hand against it like that would calm it down. There was a deep feeling of dread inside him, bitter and dark as it coursed through his veins. He couldn't remember the dream.
"Sorry." The word felt like ash on his tongue.
Jon didn't reply. He was sitting next to him, the blanket around his legs and a book in his lap. He put it aside now, slipped out of bed, and left the bedroom.
Good, because Martin buried his face in his hands and tried to breathe. A small reading light was on at Jon's bedside table and Martin wished there was more. The little island of light didn't quite reach him and only made the shadows darker.
Jon returned and placed a cup of tea next to him.
Oh. Oh, Jon had never made him tea before. Martin should thank him but he didn't quite know what would come out of his mouth, so he just nodded.
At least Jon didn't mention it. He stood there for a while before he gracelessly climbed over Martin to get back to his side. Which reminded Martin that he was very much in Jon's bed without permission.
"Your mother came by and she was in the living room and-"
"Not my mother."
Martin blinked. Where had that come from? "Yes. Yes, of course. Sorry."
Jon shrugged. "I know she was here. Came in to check on us before she went home. I'm pretty sure neither of us has any cooking left to do in the foreseeable future. Or cleaning for that matter."
"Oh. Okay."
Chamomile, the cheap kind. Martin didn't mind, not when it was tea from Jon. He took the mug in his hands and finally, feeling the familiar warmth against his palms, he managed to calm down.
Jon watched him for a moment longer before taking his book back in hand. A few minutes passed peacefully, only interrupted by sips from bad tea and the occasional turning of a page. It only dawned on Martin that he was intruding when he was done with his drink.
"Well, if she's gone now, I can go back to-"
"Don't be ridiculous." Jon's answer came so quickly as if he'd anticipated Martin's words. "It's 4 am, I'm not going to throw you out."
"It's just the living room-"
"Don't believe that my dadi ki bahan is done with us. She might be back in the morning."
Martin stared at him, and Jon stared at his book. There was no way he was reading, not with the way he glared at the pages. A bit more and they might catch fire.
Martin wanted to protest but honestly? He didn't want to leave this bed. The living room was just around the corner but it was dark there, cold. He would be alone and after his nightmare, the thought sent red-hot panic through him.
So he lay back down and pulled the blanket around himself. This time he didn't turn away. That would mean letting Jon out of his sight and facing the shadows and he didn't feel strong enough for that.
Jon finally gave up the pretense of reading and watched him. Not judging him, but rather to make sure he was still there. Maybe that was why Martin dared to meet his gaze.
So he wasn't the only one in need of company after what had happened.
Or the only one who was awake at 4 am because of some bad dreams.
With a soft sigh, Jon pushed the pillow into the middle. An invitation that Martin would never accept but maybe today it was okay. So he also scooted closer until he could place his head on the pillow, right on the edge, so Jon had enough space.
Jon smelled like sharp antiseptics and sweat as he leaned into the pillow. He was close enough for Martin to read the words in his books, something about a Mars mission and the journey there. Usually not Martin's cup of tea, but right now it felt safer to focus on that than on the proximity.
Eventually his eyes traveled. From the safe pages of the book, to Jon's slender fingers, up his arms that were patched up with bandaids and bandages. The tense lines of his shoulders as he stared the page down, the way Jon was biting down on the inside of his cheek.
"Did I wake you up?"
Jon shook his head. "Can't take any more painkillers for a couple of hours."
"Does it hurt?"
"It itches. Which might be worse."
Martin hummed. His hand twitched and wanted to touch Jon's skin, smooth the ache somewhat, but that wasn't right. If he'd come just a little closer, he could rest his head against Jon's shoulder, but he wasn't sure if that would be bothersome or comforting, so he didn't.
"You can't take pain killers on an empty stomach, so what do you want for breakfast?"
Jon stopped, his fingers following the edge of the book. "The same as always, why?"
"Well, no work tomorrow. I could make pancakes or something."
Jon turned to him, and the intense eye contact took Martin by surprise. "You can make pancakes?"
"Can't everyone make pancakes?"
Apparently not, because Jon blushed. "With chocolate chips?"
"Do you have chocolate chips?"
"Maybe?"
Martin chuckled and closed his eyes. This close he could feel Jon's heat. "I'll get you your chocolate chip pancakes."
Notes:
Platonically sharing the bed with your boss ♥
Also Sasha is very much still Sasha because I said so. Let's all just pretend the not-them was prevented because Jon went to the wedding and that meant some strange butterfly effect followed
Chapter 6
Summary:
"I just saw that there's an empty unit in my building," Sasha told him as she inspected the pizzas and promptly stole a slice of pepperoni. "I can ask if it's still available."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tim burst into the flat and yelled, "Pizza!" like he'd personally hunted them dinner. Even though he wasn't even carrying it. Sasha looked over the four boxes in her arms, but it was with a fond smile. Understandable; Martin was pretty sure he was smiling like an idiot watching Tim strut through the flat with his cane.
"There goes the peace," Jon grumbled loud enough for them to hear.
"Peace was never an option, Jonathan. Least of all when we start physical therapy next week!"
Jon scoffed, like therapy was a ridiculous idea after getting half-eaten by worms, and continued their bickering all the way to the living room. It had been less than a week since the Prentiss' attack and still, Martin had missed that. By the way Sasha met his eyes, he wasn't the only one.
"Here, let me help you."
"At least there's one gentleman here."
They placed the food on the kitchen counter and Martin grabbed their plates and cutlery. At this point he was pretty sure he knew more about this kitchen than Jon.
"I just saw that there's an empty unit in my building," Sasha told him as she inspected the pizzas and promptly stole a slice of pepperoni. "I can ask if it's still available."
There was a moment in which Martin had no idea what she was talking about but then it clicked. So much had happened that reality really hadn't set in. Jane Prentiss was gone, he was safe. No reason to stay here and now, thinking about it, maybe he'd already overstayed his welcome?
"Did Jon complain about me?"
"He didn't." She paused for a moment, like she had to analyse her own sentence. Which was fair, Martin was also surprised. But good to know. "I just saw it when I left to pick up Tim."
In the living room Jon and Tim were bickering on the couch, so Martin sat down on the floor. The pizza smelled delicious and as expected, Jon instantly dug in.
"Can you text me the details?" he asked Sasha.
"Sure, I took a picture."
"What's this about?"
"The empty unit at my place."
"Oh right! I think that's a great idea! Sasha recently got a Switch, so we could have game nights!" Tim leaned ahead, his eyes sparkling with the possibilities. "I'll even buy you Mario Party."
"I don't remember inviting you," Sasha said. "Also I doubt Jon even knows who Mario is."
"I know who Mario is." But he said it slowly, like that was a test. Didn't stop him from glaring at Sasha. Martin also made sure not to look at him.
It was safer to change the topic.
"Tim, how are you doing?"
"Bad enough to not be at work for the next three weeks." He pushed Jon with his elbow. "Same as this one."
"Something highly debatable. If I sit at home or at work, it hardly matters."
"You're so right, boss. Just a few wormholes in us, what's the big fuzz about?"
And they were off, bickering like an old married couple, and that was fine. Martin had witnessed them like this so rarely, now it made him smile. Next to him Sasha nudged him and when he turned to her, she was smiling just as fondly.
Jane Prentiss had been rough but they had made it out together.
Martin splashed water in his face and then did not look at his mirror image. Tonight had been fun, but his social battery had run dry around an hour ago, and right now he enjoyed the solitude. Not for too long, though. Jon was waiting for him and then they would talk, right?
The elephant in the room, that Martin should move out. God, the fact that he hadn't though about it himself. Had Jon just been too polite to tell him?
No, probably not. Jon wasn't known for being polite and he did need Martin to fool his family some more. That was exactly the reason Martin stepped into the bedroom, right? The risk that Jon's great-aunt would show up in the early morning and find Martin sleeping on the couch. That hadn't happened yet, of course. The two times she had stopped by had been around noon to bring even more food. Something that Martin could point out but didn't.
Jon looked up when he stepped in, already all cosied up beneath his blanket. "Tomorrow morning first check on the files in my office."
"And make sure they are properly sorted away," Martin stopped him. "I know, you already told Sasha."
"Well, now I'm telling you."
"Why? You think I'm more competent than her."
"Maybe I do."
Martin snorted as he sat down on the other bedside. "We both know she'll do fine until you're back."
Jon grumbled something unintelligible and put his book aside. This one was about a family in ancient China. By now Martin had found no rhyme or reason as to what Jon read or not, but without his work to distract him, he was eating through these books at a rapid speed.
Martin waited for him to bring up the flat situation but he didn't. No, apparently that was yet another thing they kept quiet about, just like the whole pillow situation.
There were pillows on the couch they could use, it would be the easiest thing to get up and get one but Martin didn't, and Jon didn't point it out either. He just pushed that one pillow into the middle of the bed so they could both lie their head on it.
This close, Martin could smell Jon's body wash, its fresh lemongrass scent, and it sent a pleasant shiver through him each time.
"Today was fun."
Jon hummed something and Martin threw him a look.
"You don't think so?"
"It was fun. Just… just good to see that everyone made it out okay."
"Yeah."
That wasn't everything. He could see how Jon frowned, working through something and Martin just had to wait.
"Sasha's place has a longer commute to work than here," he said finally and Martin raised his brows.
"It does?"
"By at least seven minutes."
"That's still a shorter commute than I had in my old place."
Jon blinked, like he hadn't considered that. "I guess so."
There was a short moment of silence before Jon turned away from him. "Go to sleep. One of us has work tomorrow."
"You know, most people wouldn't sound so bitter about that."
"Good night, Martin."
Another thing they didn't talk about. How Martin woke up each morning, Jon in his arms. Or well, rather Jon splayed half on top of him, his face buried in Martin's chest. That was at least a comfort, the fact that it was clearly Jon gravitating towards him during the night. The first time it had happened, it had sent Martin into an anxious spiral. The unpleasant thought that maybe he was moving in his sleep, that his unhealthy crush had developed into… well, this.
But no, he woke up each morning in the same space he'd occupied the night before. Just with Jon's warmth on top of him. That didn't mean he was innocent. God, he wished he were. But those first few minutes of consciousness, when everything was soft and warm, when the only sounds were their breathing and the noises of the city far away. Well he would indulge. Just for a few moments, until he blinked his eyes open, he could pull Jon closer, could bury his face in the dark hair.
(he shouldn't. That was weird and creepy, he shouldn't do that. He should move away, he shouldn't even be in the same bed as Jon if he took advantage of him. But Jon didn't seem to mind, and he wasn't throwing him out. Maybe because he thought he couldn't?)
So Martin let go of Jon, keeping his hands somewhere safe and started to untangle himself. Gently, he didn't want to wake Jon.
(because sometimes Jon was awake and Martin was pretty sure it was called cuddling at that point. He wondered what that meant but he didn't ask. They didn't talk about these things and he wasn't about to start)
He was ready for work by the time Jon crawled out of bed. His hair was a mess, and Martin was pretty sure that pyjama top belonged to him.
"You didn't wake me."
"Because you are not going to work. Breakfast is on the counter."
"I can make my own breakfast." That didn't stop him from peeking into the kitchen. If Martin could bottle up the look of joy on Jon's face, he would. "With chocolate chips?"
"We're all out. I'll go get groceries after work."
"Blueberries might be nice as well?"
"Text me a list."
"And you text me when you need help at work."
Martin rolled his eyes. "How about I just put up a live stream for you? Just place my phone up on Tim's desk so that you can make sure we're not making any mistakes."
"I know you're joking, but-"
"No, Jon."
Jon huffed, like he was the unreasonable one, while Martin pulled on his jacket. He tried not to sound hurt when he asked, "Do you have that little faith in me and Sasha?"
"No! That's not-" Jon stopped and shook his head. "I know it sounds like that but I'm just bored."
Good. Martin had hoped as much, but before he could say something, there was a knock on the front door.
"My dadi ki bahan does know you're back to work today, doesn't she?"
"Afraid so."
"Great."
Martin opened the door to let her in and winked at Jon, "Call me if you need anything, babe."
"Go and cut open some people, darling."
Notes:
I am sure leaving all these things unsaid won't boil over soon. They're fine
Chapter 7
Summary:
He could hear the telltale sounds of Martin coming home from work. The umbrella being put next to the door, the keys placed in the little bowl and finally his bag, always surprisingly heavy as it hit the floor.
Safe, Jon thought absentmindedly.
Chapter Text
In some weird way Jon had looked forward to physical therapy. Martin was back in the archives and refused to bring home the files Jon requested, so he'd grown a bit antsy. Or clawing at the walls, as Martin had described it, which, yes, was kinda true, but could also be fixed by getting the mentioned files.
Instead Jon had devoured his books and taken walks, at least when the weather allowed it, because otherwise he'd watched soaps. Horrible, stupid shows he couldn't look away from and - to his absolute embarrassment - would discuss with Tim afterward.
Boredom was his greatest enemy.
So when the day had dawned gray and rainy, at least he had a reason to leave the house. But physical therapy had been awful and had hurt, and 30 minutes in, even Tim had stopped trying to make light of the situation.
So when Jon crawled home, exhausted and achey, he didn't even have the energy to complain about his dadi ki bahan waiting for him. She had paid more attention to him this past two weeks than she had in years, and while some of it had to do with his injuries, he was well aware it was mostly because of Martin.
Today he didn't have the energy to listen to all the advice for his nonexistent relationship. No, he just crashed onto the couch and promptly fell asleep. It couldn't have been for long. Outside it was still raining, and he could hear the telltale sounds of Martin coming home from work. The umbrella being put next to the door, the keys placed in the little bowl and finally his bag, always surprisingly heavy as it hit the floor.
Safe, Jon thought absentmindedly. There was a comfort in knowing that the people you cared about were inside, where it was warm and dry, even when the world outside was the opposite.
It would've been enough to lull him into sleep, if not a moment later the voice of his dadi ki bahan didn't cut through his peace. Right.
Jon tried to get up, but that was instantly cancelled by a full body ache shooting through him. He must've made some kind of noise, because in the next second, Martin was with him, face drawn in concern.
"Take it easy."
His hand pressed against Jon's forehead, like he wanted to check for a fever that wasn't there. But no, Martin just brushed hair out of his face and Jon grimaced. He was sweaty.
"Did you eat? I can bring you a plate."
"I think I should take a shower first."
"Oh, sure. Should I..?" Martin offered his arm and Jon managed not to roll his eyes. Mostly because his dadi ki bahan was watching. That was also the reason why he leaned on Martin.
At least he could be in the bathroom on his own, and for a moment he just stood there, away from prying eyes. His whole body felt both stiff as a board and like he was missing his bones and a strong gust would take him apart. Even the last few steps to his shower seemed too much right now.
The sharp cleaner scent hit him a moment later and he looked around to find an immaculate bathroom. Now, his flat usually wasn't filthy but scrubbing the place hadn't been high on his priorities lately, and Martin was at work all week, so it hadn't been him. No, that's how his dadi ki bahan had spent her time here.
Privacy truly was a foreign concept for her.
That wouldn't stop him from his shower and making the trek there, he turned the water as hot as he could take it. He was just about to figure out how to undress without actually moving, when the thought hit him. Slowly he turned to the medicine cabinet and pulled it open.
He kept his T shots in a little plastic container on the top shelf. It was still there but when he pulled it down, he could already tell it was empty. The idea that Martin had taken them didn't even cross his mind. Surely Martin knew what he kept in there, after all, his headache medicine was sitting just a shelf below, but he'd never asked about it.
No, Jon knew it had been his great-aunt and it hadn't even been the first time it had happened. Jon had just let his guard down because things had been better. After the wedding his dadi ki bahan had bothered him, yes, and that wasn't perfect; he didn't expect perfect, but his family had actually acted like he existed.
He found his dadi ki bahan in the entrance, pulling on her coat, and could do little more than hold up the plastic container to her. She took one look before shrugging, "You don't need this anymore."
There was something lodged in his throat, keeping him from screaming. Anger or hurt or something close to it.
"Where?" Just that word nearly choked him. His hand was shaking so much, he let the container sink if only she wouldn't see.
"I threw that nasty stuff away." She lowered her voice like they were sharing a secret. "Maybe that will finally give him the push to propose. The place is looking well kept, so maybe if you dress nicely and-"
Jon tuned her out. Not like he was hearing anything new out of her mouth, just the same old. How foolish of him to hope for anything else.
Martin appeared behind him, coming from the bedroom. Getting changed after work, just like every other day. He was asking something before he noticed the tension hanging between them.
They were talking, but Jon didn't listen. His blood was rushing in his ears, drowning everything else out. Martin's hand landed on his shoulder, and he didn't protest when Martin steered him into the kitchen. Somehow that was worse, the reminder that Martin was here to witness this disrespect. To watch as all that childish hope crumbled in front of Jon's eyes like it always did.
It wasn't until Martin pushed a plastic bag into his hands that he snapped out of his stupor. "Is that it?"
It was. Jon should be relieved, but he wasn't, not really. He pushed past Martin to where his dadi ki bahan stood.
"You told me you threw it out!"
"I was going to. You don't need this anymore." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "But Martin said it would be dangerous to just stop taking this nasty stuff."
"You don't have the right-!"
"But Martin-"
Something in Jon snapped. "Martin doesn't get to decide what I do! And neither do you!"
She didn't like that. Of course she didn't. She had to take care of him, right? Until he was married off to someone, and not her problem anymore. The burden that he was, just like he'd been to his grandma-
"Leave."
Jon should be the one saying that, but he was grinding his teeth until his jaw ached. It was Martin, standing between them, but now facing her.
Like this, Jon couldn't see his face, couldn't pin his surprisingly firm voice to an expression.
"I won't allow you to disrespect Jon like that."
And she caved. Because Martin was a man, because even though Jon paid for this place, his dadi ki bahan was beneath Martin's roof. Bitter bile burned in the back of his throat and he barely managed to bite his frustration back until the front door fell shut behind her.
"I don't need you to save me!"
Martin jumped, his eyes growing big, and whatever firmness had been there was gone now. "No, Jon- I didn't mean- I figured it would just be easier-"
"It shouldn't be easier." He was yelling now, and just hoped his great-aunt couldn't hear him. "She's my family! She should respect me!"
"Of course she should! I didn't want to-"
"Oh, fuck off!"
He was being unfair, a part of him knew that. But that part was overshadowed by anger and hurt, and worst of all, humiliation. When Martin handed him the plastic bag again, Jon could at least bite down on more cutting words before storming off.
This wasn't Martin's fault, he knew. Martin had helped him, Martin was only here because Jon had asked him and still- the fact that Martin could solve all his problems by just existing-
There was a crack of thunder, a bright flash and suddenly his flat was drenched in darkness. A blackout. Of course. Well, it wasn't going to stop him from hiding away in his bedroom and spending the next hour screaming into a pillow.
He immediately stubbed his toe, the pain sharp enough to make his knees weak. And that was it, the last crack he needed today. He fired off every curse he knew, the ones Tim had taught him, the ones that were unladylike. Hopefully his great-aunt could still hear that.
A childish reaction and when he leaned against the wall to rub his foot, he felt stupid for it.
For a while he just stood there, listening to the thunder and rain outside and inside. It was already passing and he didn't want it to. He wanted to keep the clouds, because if they weren't there, it would be so easy to see the root of all this. The hope that his family would accept him. Which was just another stupid thing, considering that he'd tried to get them to by lying.
Sasha was right, he should just count his losses and move on.
"Then what do you want?"
Martin stood in the hallway and had been smart enough to use his phone to light the way. Jon couldn't properly see him, just the bright glare.
"From me, Jon. If I'm not supposed to protect you from your family or make things easier or… I don't know."
Jon looked away but no blinking could get rid of the bright blue afterimage. He should apologize; Martin hadn't taken his T shots and instead had de-escalated the situation. There was no reason for Jon to be mad at him, it was part of the reason why Martin was here. Still he was mad, and he would rather bite off his tongue than apologize.
"Then figure it out, because I'm apparently stupid enough to do everything you ask of me."
He didn't like the finality of Martin's words, or how he passed him by, the torch illuminating the floor but not their faces. Martin entered his bedroom and Jon followed, more slowly. His foot was still pounding, his whole body was, but it was little more than an afterthought.
"What are you doing?"
"Leaving."
That was the moment the light came back on and Jon wished it hadn't. It gave them no warning to school their faces, for him to pack away the fear he felt as he heard those words. For Martin to hide his hurt.
God, Jon wished he hadn't seen. That the blue after image had censored it for him, but of course it just hovered uselessly in the corner of his vision.
The apology unwedged itself somewhere in his throat, and still Jon bit down on it, kept it hidden. Even as Martin stuffed his clothes mindlessly into his bag, even as he wound up his charging cable.
"Where do you even want to go?"
"Away. Somewhere where I don't have to question every single move I make."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then what is this? Tell me, because I don't know." He gestured to the bed, Martin's side made and Jon's a mess, the single pillow in between.
"A bed?"
Jon knew the moment the words left his mouth that they had been a mistake. Martin's arm dropped back to his side and just looked confused, hurt, lost. The silence stretched on uncomfortably long until Martin shouldered his bag and pushed past him.
"You don't need to go. I don't think she will be back anytime soon after that."
Martin stopped but only to slip into his shoes and reach for his jacket.
"Why did you fill out the HR form?"
Jon blinked, taken aback by the question. That had been weeks ago, even before the Prentiss attack and he hadn't even thought about it since then.
"Why didn't you tell Elias it was just a misunderstanding?" Martin looked at him, all ready to leave. But he was waiting, so there had to be a right answer to his question. Unfortunately, Jon had no idea what that might be.
So he told him the truth, "It was easier. You made everything easier, so I-" used you. His teeth clicked together when he bit down on those words. Was that what he had done? But Martin had agreed, hadn't he?
"Then I'm not going because of her."
The door slammed shut and Martin was gone.
The weather mirrored Jon's sour mood. His body was still aching, he'd mindlessly thrown the plastic bag with his T shots on the kitchen table and outside it was still pouring rain. Martin hadn't taken his umbrella. It still sat next to the door, mocking Jon.
There was food waiting for him on the counter, but it was from his dadi ki bahan, so he threw it away. His fridge was filled thanks to Martin, but he didn't want to touch any of it. Instead he finally dragged himself to the bathroom for his shower and tried to ignore Martin's body wash still sitting there. He'd left everything in the bathroom, down to his toothbrush, in his hurry to get away. And where was he even going?
The empty flat Sasha had talked about? As far as Jon knew, Martin hadn't even been there. Maybe he had headed to Tim? A hotel?
Water was dripping from his hair down onto his phone screen, but he didn't dare to unlock it. How stupid, he could at least ask Martin if he was alright, and most likely Martin would tell him. But Jon didn't, and instead he threw himself onto his bed. Might at least get this day over with.
But the bed felt too spacious and cold, and that was the really stupid part, wasn't it? He'd slept in this bed on his own for years, and now just because he hadn't for a few days, he had to make a big deal out of it?
Ridiculous.
It smelled like Martin. Bergamont and something sweet, maybe vanilla, so Jon took the pillow and threw it across the room. Or that had been his plan, before he hesitated.
Martin had asked him what this was, and Jon wasn't that oblivious to know that sleeping in the same bed when there was a perfectly good couch out there was normal.
Or him making excuses to keep Martin close.
Or pretending to forget about the second pillow hiding away in his wardrobe that he just had to get. Which he didn't.
Why?
Jon glared at the pillow some more before letting it drop onto his face. If worms didn't do him in, maybe he could smother himself with it. That would be easier than actually analyzing his ugh feelings.
Notes:
Updates might be delayed - I'm flying to Japan on Monday! But I'll try my best to get the next chapter to you before then!
Chapter Text
Martin was already sitting at a table when Jon arrived at the café. Neutral ground, even though Jon wasn't sure they needed neutral ground. Was Martin that angry at him? He didn't look angry when Jon sat down. Then again, he'd rather gone back to the cot in the archives, than spend another day at Jon's place.
"Here, your stuff." Maybe shoving a duffel bag with all that Martin had forgotten at his place wasn't the right first move. There was a flash of hurt on his face before he said, "Thank you."
Shit.
Jon could get up now, deal with this mess when he was finally allowed back at work, but this felt too much like his breakup with Georgie. And after closing that door, he'd never seen her again. He didn't want that to happen with Martin.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. You were trying to help and I-" Jon squirmed. "It was an awful day, but that's no excuse."
"Your family shouldn't treat you like that."
Jon waited for the inevitable, for Martin to point out he should just let them go. Burn that bridge and move on, and he probably should. In the past years his family had been nothing but stressful, a bitter taste he couldn't get rid of.
"It's the only family I have left."
A waiter came up to them and took their order, which was at least something. Martin treasured his tea, so he would stay for a few minutes more. Enough time for Jon to finally untangle his words.
Martin beat him to it. "In the movies family is always something warm and sacred but it never feels like it."
"Family feels like chains."
Martin looked up and Jon was a bit startled by the sudden eye contact. Maybe he'd taken offence to what he'd said, Jon didn't know much about Martin's family or their relationship. Actually, he did know nothing about them. How had he lived the past weeks with this man and knew so little?
Because Martin was the one giving, and Jon the one taking and he had been gluttonous.
Their drinks arrived and Jon wrapped his hands around his cup. It was easier to focus on the tea inside, like that would make him forget Martin was here. And still, he had to kick himself to get the words out he'd been practicing by himself.
"You made me feel safe."
He could hear Martin sit up straighter, but didn't dare to look up.
"What?"
"You being close made me feel safe." Jon took a deep breath and forced himself to go on. "During the wedding and… and even afterward. At home, I knew no matter what my family would throw at me, I would be fine, because you were right there. And it was the first time I didn't have to worry about them."
"Jon," Martin said it so softly. His hands were also wrapped around his cup, but Jon could see one of them twitch, like he wanted to reach out. He wouldn't have minded that.
"Listen, I get that. And that's- that's fine, but it doesn't explain…" Martin trailed off, leaving Jon to fill in the blanks.
What had bothered him the most? The fact that their boss thought they were in a relationship, along with the whole workplace? No, probably sleeping in the same bed. God, Martin must think him a creep.
But having Martin sleeping next to him kept the nightmares away. Or not away, they were still there. Horribly confusing things about the institute, about the archives, the tunnels. It didn't matter where he was in his dream, where he tried to hide, he was being watched, and he couldn't escape. But waking up and having Martin right there? He could pretend that it was Martin watching him. And Martin's eyes were so much kinder.
That wasn't something Jon could admit. He'd rather bite off his tongue than show any more weakness, even when Martin sighed. A noise so deep and final, it made Jon shudder.
That was it. He'd lost him and it was his own damn fault.
"I like you."
"I like you too," Jon said quickly before Martin could get up and leave. It just resulted in yet another sigh.
"You're not listening."
Jon was pretty sure he was listening, but he forced himself to look up. Martin jumped when their eyes met. There was a healthy flush on his face, his hands gripping the cup so much, the tea inside was rippling.
"I like you, Jon."
It still took Jon a moment longer before he shook his head. "No, you don't."
"What?"
"You don't like me like that."
Martin looked baffled, then annoyed. "You can't tell me-"
"But why would you? I've been awful to you!"
Martin opened his mouth, closed it. His face went through a couple of complicated expressions before he finally said, "You gave me a safe place to stay when I had nowhere else."
"You mean the archives? It was my fault you met Jane Prentiss in the first place!"
Martin shrugged. His cheeks were still flushed but he looked more determined than before. "Doesn't matter. You didn't have to let me stay and even staying at your place. It was fun. It felt like-"
Jon watched him search for the right words, but that was fine, he knew what Martin wanted to say.
"Like family." Because it was the same for him. The safety, the comfort, the warmth. "Just without the chains."
Martin reached up to rub his eyes, and Jon's heart sank when he found them bloodshot.
"But it can't be just that. Not for me." Martin breathed through the words, blinking rapidly. "I will want more and that's not fair, that's not right-"
Because Martin liked him.
Martin liked him.
No matter how much Jon had screwed up, how selfish he was being. No matter his family. And Jon hadn't even considered that a possibility. He'd kissed that part of his life goodbye after his breakup with Georgie.
Romance wasn't for him, he was weird about it, didn't do things right. And it wasn't like he was pleasant to be around, he annoyed most people.
But Martin was sitting opposite of him, properly upset about not being with him, even though he knew about all these things. Or, well, most of these things.
"Can I try?"
"What?"
"Can I try liking you back?"
Martin stared at him, his eyes still wet, his breath shaking. "What are you- Jon, I can't force you to be with me."
"You're not forcing me to do anything. I want to try. Please." Yeah. Yeah, that could work! Jon didn't think he liked Martin romantically, but he'd also never considered the possibility. And usually he didn't like to have people around but it was fine with Martin.
He let his eyes wander over Martin's bewildered expression, to the untouched tea between them and tried to shift his perspective. To see this as a date, and that should be easy, right? They were already in a cosy café and that seemed perfect for a first date with Martin.
So what would be the next step?
"Can I try holding your hand?"
Martin didn't answer, but he did let go off his cup, so Jon could take his hand. It wasn't the first time they'd touched, not with working and living together. Not when they'd been at the wedding, dancing. But this time Jon tried to properly focus on how it felt.
Martin's hand was a bit sweaty, but as it turned out, Jon's was as well. It was also very warm, probably from holding on to the tea all this time. It was bigger, more callused than Jon's own, but he liked that; it reminded him of Martin.
Martin, who he was pretty sure had stopped breathing altogether. His eyes darted from their entwined hands, to Jon's face, like he was still trying to catch up.
"This feels nice," Jon told him just to make sure and some tension bled out of Martin's shoulders.
"Are you sure? This isn't uncomfortable for you?"
"Not at all."
"People can see."
"So?"
Apparently Martin had no answer for that, but his fingers finally curled around Jon's hand, holding him closer.
"We should order some food."
"This place is kinda fancy, we could share or-"
"No," Jon interrupted him. "This is a date, so don't worry about that. I'll pay."
Martin opened his mouth, most likely to protest but Jon just squeezed his hand to get him to stop. He was still watching in disbelief before he laughed. A shy little noise that made Jon smile.
"Okay."
Liking Martin was easy.
Sometimes so easy, that Jon just got back to his old ways and forgot about the whole romance thing. Because Martin stayed living with him. Neither of them mentioned a new flat, not even Sasha, so that crisis was avoided.
And besides that? Well, it was just the same as always. Breakfast, work, dinner and then relaxing on the couch. The couch which Martin insisted on sleeping on now and while Jon didn't get the whole fuzz, he let him. He could hardly force him into his bed.
But there were other times when Jon was very aware of their… agreement.
Like going to the movies. A horribly boring comedy, but Martin enjoyed it, so Jon sat next to him, holding his hand. Or the stupid plush duck he found while out getting groceries. Strategically placed towards the register, so parents with their kids had to walk by them. To look distinguished, the duck was wearing a top hat and a monocle, which didn't help because it was still a duck.
And yet it wandered into his basket, simply because he could already hear Martin cooing over it in his mind.
Martin didn't coo when he brought the duck home, even though Jon could tell he wanted to.
"Why am I getting gifts?"
"This is the courting phase. I knew you'd like it, so I got it for you."
"Shouldn't I be courting you instead? You already know I like you."
Now that was straight up ridiculous, wasn't it? "And we're both aware you would be a great boyfriend. It seems like I am the one having to catch up."
"I don't think that's how that works."
Well, that might be. The romantic comedies Martin liked to watch seemed horribly unhelpful with the whole situation and in the, ugh, romance novel Jon had picked up, the protagonists didn't even seem to like each other.
The duck got its place on the back of the couch.
Notes:
Communicating? In my Jmart?
Didn't want to leave you guys on a cliffhanger, so here have this chapter! As I said before: I will be off to Japan for the next two weeks, so updates may be slow!
Chapter 9
Summary:
"You still have another week off," Martin let him know, like they hadn't had that discussion already.
"I'm sure a good boyfriend would let me go."
"And I'm sure that's not true."
Notes:
Just a quick update coming from Kyoto! Haven't really found the time to write yet - when I get back to my hotel room I'll just drop dead into my bed.
Chapter Text
Returning to work was a blessing. Boredom was Jon's biggest enemy, and with Martin gone for most of the day, and his family not bothering him anymore, he'd spent most time just… moping about. Or sleeping.
"You still have another week off," Martin let him know, like they hadn't had that discussion already.
"I'm sure a good boyfriend would let me go."
"And I'm sure that's not true."
But they both made their way to the tube and Jon felt larger than life. At least until he entered the institute. He'd actually felt good this morning. Getting rid of his baggy clothes for a properly ironed button down and slacks, he felt like being reborn.
He hadn't considered the scars. They were there, of course. Most of the holes were still covered by bandaids, but not all, and nobody had mentioned them. Yes, his dadi ki bahan had asked him about them, and he'd said something about shrapnel. Then again, she hadn't quite cared about the how, but rather what he could do to get rid of them. Something about lessening his chances with Martin.
The people in the institute knew the real reason, and they were greedy about it. Jon was far from being a sociable person, and his plan had been to disappear down in the archives and start working. Instead he was caught by colleagues he'd never talked to and their questions about his well-being felt off. Their eyes found his scars and it was like he could feel the worms again, digging in.
Martin's arm wrapped around his shoulders and just like that he pulled the attention away from Jon as well. Not because he was broader or taller than Jon, even though it felt like Jon could just hide in his shadow right now, and still, it was like they didn't see his scars anymore.
"How did you do that?" Jon asked when they finally made their way down to the archives.
"Jane's attack was nearly a month ago, it's old news and has been discussed to death," Martin told him. His arms had felt pleasantly heavy on his shoulder and now, as it slipped away, Jon missed the comfort. "But relationship drama is forever."
"There is no way that us being together is more interesting than a literal worm woman attacking the archives."
"Oh, but they were starving for news." That was Sasha, calling from the bullpen. The moment they entered, she pointed a pen at Jon. "Shouldn't you be on sick leave?"
"Shouldn't I be your boss?"
"So what? You want to start a fake relationship with me now?"
That startled out a laugh from Martin, while Jon could only glare at her.
She grinned and tapped the tip of her nose with the pen. "So Mister Sims, you want to solve the murder of your predecessor with me?"
And well, no matter how much Martin groaned, Jon couldn't bite down on his smile. "And I thought you'd never ask."
"No murder-talk while eating!" Martin insisted as the three of them sat down for lunch. They'd walked to a Chinese place that was just a tad too far away from the institute to be frequented by their colleagues.
"I thought murder talk was exactly why we went here?" Sasha asked before pulling out an entire folder about Gertrude Robinson. Jon could feel himself salivating and didn't even pretend it was because of the food.
"Shouldn't the police look into her death?"
"Oh yeah, because they did such a great job last time."
Sasha covered the table in a neat row of pages, records, and maps and something that looked like a timetable and Jon couldn't wait to dig in. But next to him Martin squirmed and so Jon took his hand. He didn't think much of the motion, he just wanted to comfort Martin, maybe ease his anxiety. Instead Martin jumped.
That wasn't anything new. They were all a bit jumpy after Prentiss, covering it up with awkward laughs and talk about worms. Only that Martin did neither.
He went pale, his eyes darting to Sasha before slipping his hand out of Jon's. Huh?
Sasha hadn't noticed, she was still arranging her findings and was seconds away from launching herself into a presentation, and Jon felt… distantly hurt. Martin wasn't looking at him, because apparently the pages were suddenly fascinating.
"So." Sasha closed her folder and Jon forced himself to pay attention. "This is the list of employees who were working at the institute during her murder, and in this column, we have people who quit the job in the following weeks-"
As expected Sasha had done cohesive research, even if Jon was pretty sure she shouldn't have been able to access all of this information. But those were just details, because after actually having lunch for once, and a copy of her folder in his hands, he settled back in his office feeling quite content.
He was still going through everything, by the time Martin brought him his tea.
"Not on company time. Those were your own words," Martin reminded him, and only then was Jon reminded of their little hiccup.
He watched as Martin placed his tea down, and while he hadn't bothered with closing the door, he couldn't keep his question from tumbling out, "Did I make you uncomfortable?"
Martin stopped in his tracks.
"You didn't mind holding hands the last time we went out to eat. So I'm guessing it was Sasha's presence?" Jon went on. "But that doesn't make any sense. I highly doubt she would be opposed to our relationship, and she is a highly educated woman, so the gay aspect wouldn't bother-"
"Stop." Martin was holding on to his mug for dear life, his eyes closed. "Goddammit Jon, you can't just blurt something like that out-"
"The problem last time was my lack of communications. I want to avoid making that mistake again. Something was wrong earlier and I would like to understand what it was."
Martin blinked his eyes open. "Oh, that's… honestly kinda sweet."
Sweet? Sweet was good, right?
"So?"
Just like during lunch, Martin squirmed, but then he slowly sat down. "I don't want people to know about our…"
"Courtship."
"Sure, let's call it that."
"Why not? Everyone here already knows anyway."
Martin looked annoyed at that. "You didn't give me a choice about that."
Jon opened his mouth to point out that their workplace had only found out because of Martin's call during his meeting with Elias. Then again, Jon had never tried to set the record straight, he'd even filled out the form. Simply because it was easier than to explain to Elias the whole mess they were in.
Jon closed his mouth without saying anything. It seemed to be the right decision, because Martin's anger faded away.
"This morning you acted like my boyfriend to get me away from people. You were also touching me then."
"That was different. I don't- well, I do care about these people, but not like… like a lot? That sounds awful-"
"You care more about Sasha." That made sense, it was the same for Jon. He was still thinking about it when Martin let out a sigh.
"Jon, when you decide you don't like me back, I would like to avoid the embarrassment of having to tell her. Or Tim. It's a bit like a breakup, right?"
Yeah, maybe. He still remembered his breakup with Georgie and how their friend circle had felt off afterward. Like Jon had never really been a part of it, like people had taken sides and no one had been on his.
"It would be awkward and uncomfortable." It sounded more like a question coming from his mouth, but Martin nodded.
"It's just… I didn't want to push you away but I panicked a little and didn't know what else to do."
"I think I get it," Jon said. He was already trying to place that knowledge somehow, to work on a solution. "Would it help if I asked?"
"Asked?"
Jon stretched out his hand, but didn't touch Martin's. Not yet. "Can I hold your hand?"
Martin blushed. "R-r-right now? We're at work."
"You can say no."
But Martin didn't. No, he just looked at him for a moment longer before letting his hand slip in Jon's. Like the first time Martin's hand was broad and Martin's hand was warm. Jon let his thumb trace over his knuckles, the skin a bit dry and rough there. It was a good hand, the weight pleasant and comforting.
Then Martin squeezed. It was only for a second but there was strength there. Jon got the feeling that Martin wanted to move him, his hand, to pull it closer and- what?
He didn't know but he was sure he would've let him.
"Better?"
Martin had turned a lovely pink. "Yeah, better."
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