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He spins a web for Jon in his office.
He has tiny spinnerets in his fingers, tucked just under his nails that let him weave delicate, intricate silk patterns that he affixes to all of Jon's clothes. It's great for anxiety, which Martin really does seem to have a lot of lately.
It's such a tiny motion that almost no one notices. No one that matters notices anyway. Jon hasn't noticed.
Martin knows that Jon doesn't like spiders- some deep routed trauma with his patron that Martin has been trying to desperately assuage for some time now.
He's not an avatar, not like Jon is, not like Elias is, not like Mr. Spider is, and he knows that liking Jon is above his station, that Mr. Spider already took him as his own, but still, his heart aches every time he sees him somewhere.
The way the light glances off of his skin and the way his eyes glisten when he's been reading for too long and his heartbeat which is off of a regular heartbeat by just two milliseconds which makes him special and perfect and wonderful.
Singular and original and beautiful.
He spins the webs quickly, and each of them is different, mostly from Martin jumping at tiny sounds of someone walking by, little gapped originalities, just like Jon. He presses them into the backs of Jon's vests and jackets and cardigans and shirts whenever he gets the chance, and this way he'll always know where he is.
There are tiny webs in Jon's office too, made by his brothers, tucked into tiny corners where Jon would never notice but Martin will know that he's safe with.
No more ugly Distortions, no more ugly yellow doors.
He's been in Jon's home before, once. It's a tiny apartment, and his brothers hide in even tinier corners to watch the Archivist. They feed Martin the memories of Jon working at odd hours and sleeping, and bathing and Martin relishes those most of all.
He knows he shouldn't- he knows he's being awful, but there's no other way to go about this-
No one else will keep him safe like Martin can.
No one appreciates him like Martin does.
He likes to imagine Jon in bed with him when he goes to sleep. He'll wrap him in his tiny webs and keep him there forever where nothing bad would ever happen to the love of his life, and everything would be okay. And Jon would be his, only his, no meddling Eye, no waxworks, no hunters.
Just his.
It's fate, obviously.
Martin spins his tiny webs, intricate and delicate, just like Jon, on to the backs of his clothes.
Jon would understand if he ever found them.
Of course, he would, because Jon trusts Martin.
Of course, he does.
The others talk about him while he isn't there, whispering about how oblivious Jon is to Martin's doting, and he has to keep himself from laughing. They don't even know how much he matters to Jon. More then all the others. He's the one keeping him safe.
He'll devour the Stranger, the Corruption, the Eye- anything that ever seeks to hurt him ever again.
He'll even kill his avatar, if it comes to that.
Martin loves him more than everything else in the entire world.
They're meant for each other.
Of course they are.