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It was on their third date - or at least, the third evening that ended with them curled together on Martin’s couch, kissing lazily - that Jon reached his self-imposed deadline and pulled reluctantly away.
It was harder than it should have been. He was fine with kissing, mostly; it didn’t occur to him, most of the time, but something about Martin’s deliberate, unhurried touches, the press of his lips, the stroke of his hand down Jon’s back that drove all the tension out of him, was becoming addictive. All the more reason, he told himself sternly, to address it now, before this turned into something he couldn’t live without and he managed to ruin another perfectly good friendship.
(Martin had been surprisingly okay with Jon’s admission that no, he didn’t particularly return Martin’s crush, wasn’t quite sure what it meant to do so, but he did care very much about him and was more than flattered and would Martin like to go to dinner sometime, or maybe coffee, christ he was bad at this. Martin’s answering smile had unknotted something in his chest that had been tied there for far too long. And now here they were, and Jon was about to disappoint him again, and he could feel all that tension crawling back through his shoulders. You really need to learn to leave well enough alone, he told himself firmly, and then you’d stop getting yourself into this exact mess.)
Martin followed him a little when he pulled away, and Jon had to put a hand on his shoulder to get a little distance. “Martin,” he said, his voice a little rougher than he’d meant it to come out, “before - I should really -” he coughed, and tried again. Martin waited patiently, his fingers resting on Jon’s knee, not demanding, an anchoring weight keeping him there.
Don’t be cruel, Jon’s internal narration spat, it’s bad enough already. “I should probably tell you that I’m not. Interested. In...well.” He sighed. “Most kinds of physical intimacy? Kissing is fine, obviously - obviously - I just, that’s about as far as I’m comfortable with. It certainly isn’t anything to do with you, I’ve always been like this, I just...”
Martin’s expression had tightened a little bit around the edges, and Jon trailed off. Well, you don’t love him and you won’t sleep with him, so what exactly about this did you think he’d be okay with?
“Oh,” said Martin with a twist to his mouth that might have been a self-deprecating smile. “Um. Me too? I mean, I guess I might be demisexual, I’ve slept with boyfriends before and it was kind of fun, but it’s not exactly on the top of my priorities list.” His fingers tightened reassuringly on Jon’s knee, reached out to find his hand.
Jon blinked. “What?”
“I didn’t - I thought you knew? That I was ace?”
Jon blinked again, reached for words and came up with, “Why on earth would you think I knew anything about you?” Which came out entirely wrong, except for the baffled tone of voice that had Martin laughing and leaning in again, pressing his forehead to Jon’s shoulder. “I mean - I didn’t-”
“No, no, that’s fair enough,” Martin choked out. “It’s not like you’ve ever been part of the office gossip, and it isn’t like I wear a sign or anything.” Martin shrugged, awkward from where he was leaning on Jon, breathing out the last of his laughter warm on Jon’s neck, and pressed an arm back around his waist. “Did have a flag pin, though. For Pride week?” He glanced shyly up at Jon, and Jon’s stomach lurched to think that maybe he wasn’t the only one struggling to have this conversation face-to-face.
Still. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Martin frowned then, and sat up properly, though he didn’t remove his arm. “Wait," he said, “wait. You don’t - do you even know what ‘asexual’ is, have you -”
“I’ve heard the term, Martin, “ he said acerbically. “Just not in this particular...”
“Oh my god.” Martin looked genuinely horrified now. “Have you really been walking around for thirty years on this earth and you don’t know the first thing about your own sexuality-”
“I know it barely exists,” Jon muttered, “what else is there to bother with?”
“Oh my god, please shut up,” Martin said, pressing in and kissing him to make sure it took. He leaned their foreheads together and sighed. “Sorry,” he said belatedly, taking Jon’s other hand as well and holding them tightly between them. “Sorry, I just - wow.”
This was not going at all how Jon had planned.
“I’m so glad everyone finds my massive ignorance amusing,” he grumbled.
“It’s not,” Martin said softly, so close it was as much vibration as sound. “It’s really, really not. I’m just - I remember how broken I felt before I knew there was a word for it, and to think that you.” He took an unsteady breath, pressed forward to kiss Jon again. Jon leaned into it, letting the kiss linger, because if Martin was kissing him at least he wasn’t talking, and even if the thing the Archives had put into him hungered for more knowledge the rest of him was getting a little overwhelmed. Martin didn’t - and it was - and he was worried that Jon -
Martin pulled away this time, pushing his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I guess we have to do the whole Orientation 101 thing after all,” he said regretfully.
“We really don’t,” Jon said drily, “I think I understand the basics, if not the terminology.”
Martin snorted. “Alright, fair.” He looked back up at Jon shyly and reached out a hand. “D’you want to -”
Jon took it and was pulled forward. Martin rearranged them so he was leaning into the corner of the sofa, Jon lying across his chest with his head on Martin’s shoulder, as stretched out as they could get on the cramped loveseat. “So,” Jon said, after a long, quiet moment, shockingly comfortable. “Asexual I understand. Demisexual is...”
“Ah. “ Martin’s hand stilled on his back, the first Jon had been consciously aware of the touch, and he shifted a little underneath it until Martin started up again. “I sometimes develop a sexual attraction to someone after I’ve formed an intense emotional bond with them? Not always, though, and it’s not - well it’s still not a big thing.” He moved in a way that might have been a shrug. “And maybe it’s just that I like being physically close to someone I care about and sex is fine. I’ve only really dated allosexual people before.”
Jon frowned a little, parsing out “allosexual.” “Huh.”
“We don’t have to,” Martin said hastily. “I absolutely am not interested in doing anything you don’t want to do, ever.” A long pause. “This is all right, though?”
“This is fine,” Jon said firmly, and pulled himself up to kiss Martin again.