Chapter Text
Jon locks the door of his office behind them, Martin quirks an eyebrow as he hears the lock click into place but seems to decide it not worth commenting on. Yet.
“We’re not going to do this- this stupid rom com thing anymore.” Jon blurts out. He had planned what he was going to say when he got Martin in here. This was not it. His original speech had involved a lot about tempering expectations and careful planning but being in a locked room with Martin had thrown all that out the window in an instant. For better or worse, judging by how high Martin’s eyebrows were now it was probably worse, this was the road they were going down now.
“I’m sorry, what? Are you feeling alright?” Martin walks towards him, trapping Jon between his body and the door as he places the back of his hand on Jon’s forehead. Martin’s warm hand feels like its branding him, burning into the cool skin of his forehead. Jon’s breath faulters for a second, unable to decide if he should breathe in or out. He pulls his senses back, shaking Martin’s hand away with a flick of his head. Martin pulls back, faint lines of worry etching into his face. Jon pushes past him into the room so he can lean sit on the front edge of his desk
“We’re not doing the whole ‘will-they-won’t-they’ bullshit they love to put in those movies, blushing every time we get near each other, but always pulling away when the other draws near.” He’s suddenly aware that he’s waving his hands around to emphasise what he’s saying, he clamps them to the edge of the desk, “It all being super obvious to everyone but the couple. Being jealous when one of them speaks to someone else. All that unnecessary back and forth. We’re both too old for it.”
Martin hasn’t moved from where Jon left him, hovering unsure by the door.
“What are you saying?” Martin asks after a moment, breaking the tense silence that had hung between them. His expression is guarded while Jon jumbles the words around in his head, trying to find the way to say it without being a complete arse.
“I-uh,” the bravado that had gotten him through the first part of his plan left him, his words tripped over each other as the scramble to all come out at the same time, “listen to every-uh tape made. Not to mention the things I hear aroun- they don’t matter I suppose. People don’t know, they just guess, but they’re usually better guessers when it comes to these things than I am.” He forces out a hysterical sounding nervous chuckle that only results in Martin’s gaze changing from confused to concerned.
Oh sod it.
“I’ve heard that you have uh- feelings for me.” Jon feels like he might faint. His pulse bounds like a physical entity, a trapped animal, desperately trying to escape his chest as he forces each and every syllable out of his mouth.
Martin’s face cycles through a few emotions, each as inscrutable to Jon as the last until Martin manages to school his face into something approaching neutral.
“I see.”
“I’ve always been bad at these things, I mean I basically dated Georgie for a month before I even realised that we were dating, and when I asked her if we were dating she was understandably confused because, after all, I was the one who asked her out apparently and-“ Jon snaps his mouth shut as he realises he’s babbling, a nervous trait from childhood rearing its head. He can hear his grandma snapping at him ‘Say what you mean boy and nothing more!’. He takes a deep breath before continuing.
“Anyway, I didn’t know how to deal with,” he gestures jerkily between them, “this, so I’ve ignored it, blamed circumstances and squashed it all down. But I’ve been reliably informed that that’s not a solution for personal problems and is quite mean, which I didn’t even realise, so I’m sorry about that.”
“So, what? Back off? Leave me alone? I’m fired?”
Jon snaps his gaze back to Martin (when had he looked away, he wondered), finally seeing the hurt slipping through the neutral mask.
Jon cursed himself, for all the talking he’d just done he hadn’t even said what he wanted to say.
“No!” He speaks too loudly for the small space and his shout causes Martin to blink rapidly. “God no, quite the opposite. I-uh.” He stops, unable to force himself to say the words screaming in his head.
Martin’s expression softens, something on Jon’s face lets him step closer until he’s close enough to lay a hand on Jon’s shoulder, comforting but not rushing.
Jon takes a deep breath, holds it and releases. The fainting feeling recedes slightly.
“I might like you too,” he confesses in barely more than a whisper. He stares blankly over Martin’s should, the confession weighing too heavily to allow eye contact.
He starts when Martin’s other hand rests lightly on his cheek, gently directing him to make eye contact. His heart flutters wildly when he sees Martin smiling.
“Why do you know so much about rom-coms?”
The question surprises Jon, instantly breaking the tension coiled in his body, it forces it way out as bone deep laughter. He leans forward to steady himself, resting his forehead on Martin’s shoulder. Martin shifts his hand on Jon’s face to cup the back of his head as the other hand pulls them both closer, an almost hug. Jon barely notices as the giggles tremble through him.
The laughing subsides in fits and bursts but Jon leaves his head on Martin’s shoulder, enjoying the comfort of the quasi-hug.
“In an effort to not be like a rom-com,” Martin asks when the laughter seems to have completely stopped, “can I kiss you?”
Jon lifts his head and eschews words in favour of leaning in and kissing Martin.
The angle is wrong at first, with Martin being taller than him and Jon making himself shorter still by being half perched on the desk, but Martin pulls back slightly and Jon follows, not wanting it to stop yet. Then they are both standing, chest to chest, Jon’s hand furled tight in the shirt above Martin’s shoulder blades. Then, all at once, its perfect.