Chapter Text
Knowing that Jon was remembering things was worse than when he remembered nothing at all.
Before, Martin could power through and pretend everything was fine, but now it felt like they were on a timer, just waiting for the other shoe to drop and Jon to finally remember the final little detail that made everything okay again.
Still, Martin was patient. He'd waited for Jon before. He could do it again.
They were back to kissing. That was fun.
Every new nugget of information that Jon remembered bought a small sense of giddy glee, and Jon was terrible at hiding it.
He'd cornered Martin when he was doing the washing up, wrapping his arms around him from behind and whispering 'You're not a ghost' over and over again until Martin remembered hiding in document storage with him during Prentiss's attack. They had been in the gardens, with Martin pulling up weeds and handing them to Jon to put in the bin, and Jon had suddenly knelt to kiss his cheek, whispering about the Unknowing. Once, Jon had even come in when Martin was in the shower to excitedly tell him about the cows they had seen on the way up to Scotland.
They fell back into their rhythm bit by bit. Jon was still a little clunky and awkward, but he was getting used to it. Martin remembered the first few weeks they had spent in the cottage, when Jon had been shockingly clingy. It had been a slight overload for Martin, freshly out of the Lonely and with a years worth of physical contact to catch up on. He'd once asked Jon why he liked to touch him so much. He'd blushed and looked embarrassed, like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and explained that it helped him to feel that Martin was okay and present and not about to vanish into mist.
This felt very much like that. Jon would hover near him, asking questions, about Martin, about the village, about the archives. Martin felt like he was being followed by a particularly curious child.
Martin took him to the village one day, and watched the way he awkwardly nodded through a conversation with the lady at the shop, politely agreeing with her observations on the weather as she scanned their items a little too slowly, before taking him to the pub by the river and treating them both to a mid afternoon pint.
Jon sipped it, watching the ducks on the river gently bob by. "This is your favourite spot in the village."
Martin glanced up at him. "It is. Your favourite is-"
"By the tree in the park, the one with the bench dedicated to the soldier. I remember."
Jon still kissed like it was a novelty. He would often break away with a loopy smile and a murmured 'wow'. He would stroke his hands through Martin's hair and tug him down for a kiss like he was doing it just for the sake of it, just to see if he still could. One lazy make out session on the sofa had led to Jon sitting back, flushed and grinning like a child on Christmas, saying "I've not kissed anyone like that since Georgie."
Martin laughed. "Yes you have."
"Who?" Jon frowned, trying to remember.
Martin looped his arms around him and tugged him back down, coaxing him to lay down on Martin's chest. "Me, dummy."
"Oh," Jon gazed at him like he couldn't believe his eyes. "Right."
The night had ended with them both curled up on the bed, hands gripping the others shirt, faces inches apart.
-
The first thing Martin was aware of was the fact that his morning breath was terrible.
The second was the Jon's was too.
The third was that he knew Jon's morning breath was terrible because Jon was pressing frantic little kisses to his face, hands fluttering through Martin's hair.
"Wha-"
"Martin." Jon moved back a bit to give Martin room to roll over and blink groggily at the ceiling.
"Wha timb issit?" He raised a hand to brush sleep out of his eyes.
"Six. I'm sorry I woke you, it's just-" Jon buried his face in Martin's shoulder.
"What?" Martin brushed a hand up his back. "Jon, whats up?"
Jon shuddered slightly, clutching at Martin with tight fists. He let out a shaky breath, and Martin suddenly realised he was crying.
"Jon, what's wrong? Jon, look at me." Martin pushed himself up to sit on the bed, wrapping his arms around where Jon lay huddled. "Was it a nightmare?"
"No." Came the small reply.
"Then what? What can I do?"
"Nothing. Everything." Jon peeked up at him, "Just be you, Martin." He pushed himself up to sit level with Martin. "My Martin. My beautiful, brilliant, caring Martin. The Martin that does so much for me even when I don't deserve it. Even when I forget how much I love him."
Jon brushed Martin's curls out of his face with a trembling hand.
"I love you. I love you, Martin. Martin K Blackwood."
"Jon..."
"I remember. Everything. Absolutely everything. Including," Jon grinned, a little manic. "the fact that I am madly in love with you and for some reason have never told you that fact."
Martin blinked at him, feeling himself start to smile. "Oh, Jon."
"I love you." Jon said it like he was amazed at it.
"I love you too." Martin leant forward and pressed their foreheads together.
"I know." Jon laughed, wetly. "Martin, why would you say it for the first time while I couldn't even remember liking you back?"
"Says the guy who said it for the first time at," Martin leant round Jon to squint that the alarm clock. "6:17 in the morning after waking me up by crying on me."
"After remembering how much I love you after a whole week of having no idea! I think this is quite romantic."
"It would be more romantic if we both didn't reek and I didn't need the toilet quite desperately, but sure, this is good enough."
Jon snorted. "I apologise. I'll take it back until I can say it again at a more convenient time. Would you like to go back to bed now?"
Martin shoved his shoulder. Jon lost balance and tumbled back, pulling Martin with him. They landed in a bit of a heap, legs tangled together, faces inches apart.
"Hello Martin." Jon mumbled.
"Hello Jon." Martin kissed at his jawline gently. "I love you."
"I love you too. I wasn't joking, I will say it again. And again and again and again until you're sick of hearing it."
"I don't think I ever will be. And I wasn't joking either."
Jon cocked his head to the side as well as he could while pressed against the pillow. "About what?"
"We both stink. I'm going to go brush my teeth and have a shower since someone," Martin kissed Jon's forehead. "decided to wake me up this early."
Jon chuckled as Martin rolled off the bed and padded towards the bathroom. "Sorry. I just got excited."
"I know." Martin turned on the bathroom light and looked back at Jon, illuminated by the fluorescent glow. "So it's over? You remember everything?"
"I think so. There might be a few pieces that still need to fall into place, but I remember enough now."
"What caused it?"
Jon sighed and wriggled back so he was propped up against the headboard. "A mixture of things, really. A little bit Spiral, a little bit Stranger. A little bit of the Web as well, just for good measure. It shouldn't be a problem now, the Eye didn't particularly like being undermined like that."
"Trading one horror for a soup of them."
"And then back to one. I am sorry you went through all of this, Martin."
Martin shook his head. "I'm just glad you're okay, Jon."
Jon smiled. "I've missed you. Even when I didn't know it, I missed you."
Jon kept his promise. He told Martin he loved him over breakfast, lunch, lazy cuddles on the sofa, a long walk through the nearby fields, constant reminders that they were okay again, back to their strange little domestic normality, that he actively, deliberately loved him.
Martin found he was never sick of hearing it.