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Tim hadn’t really considered the logistics of stopping an apocalypse before. Sure, he knew they wouldn’t be able to just magically teleport their way to the wax museum (Jon couldn’t have gotten himself some useful powers, could he?). He guesses he just wasn’t expecting to find himself sitting on the steps outside the Institute for half an hour, waiting for Daisy to come pick them all up for the world’s strangest carpool.
He’s in the middle of a round of Bubble Shooter on his phone when he hears the approaching footsteps. He looks up to see Martin standing in front of him, awkwardly shuffling his feet. Tim sighs and looks back down at his phone, gesturing for Martin to get on with it.
“I just wanted to, y’know, wish you good luck, and all that.”
His nervous energy gets to Tim, and before he can think it through, he replies. “Shouldn’t you be telling Jon that? Don’t know why you’re talking to me right now, this seems like a perfect opportunity for some last-minute dramatic confessions.”
“Tim…” Martin sounds a little pissed off, but mostly just hurt, and, okay, yeah, that was pretty cold. It’s getting harder to turn off, these days.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t-” Tim winces. “That was uncalled for.”
He looks back up to see that Martin’s still looking rather upset. Tim’s been burying himself in apathy pretty successfully, if he may say so himself, but there’s something about the kicked puppy look on Martin’s face right now that reaches the part of him that still cares about the guy, still cares about his friend.
He knows he probably isn’t coming back from this. Doesn’t really want to come back from this. That doesn’t mean he likes the idea of leaving Martin behind like this, though. He does the first thing he can think of to comfort him, and stands up to wrap his arms around him.
Martin immediately leans into the hug. It’s a stark contrast to the first time Tim had done this, when he’d hugged Martin goodbye after he and Sasha (and he is not thinking about her) had invited Martin to come out with them after work for the first time. Back then, Martin had seemed completely startled, arms limp at his side and face red when Tim had let go again. This time, he’s clinging onto him as if he can somehow protect him from danger if he holds on tightly enough. It’s as sweet as it’s futile. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the gesture, though. Their situation might have changed, might have gotten beyond fucked up, but the warmth he’s always felt at being on the receiving end of Martin’s affection is still there, as comforting now as it was back when that affection came in the form of a warm cup of tea or an even warmer smile.
Since this might be the last hug he’s ever gonna get, Tim’s reluctant to let go. He’s kind of regretting not doing this more often, the past few months. God knows they could’ve both used it. Eventually though, he hears a car come to a screeching halt in front of them. At the immediate impatient blare of a car horn, he gently pushes Martin away.
“You’ll come back safe, okay?” Martin tells him, a fierce look in his eyes daring Tim to disagree.
He can’t bring himself to lie, so he smiles in a way that he hopes comes across as comforting rather than a little sad, then turns around and heads to the car before Martin has a chance to protest.