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The kettle beeped right in time for Martin to walk back into the kitchen. He poured the hot water over the leaves and let them steep in his dark green teapot. He had gotten the pot from his mother before she died, and it still caused a twinge of sadness to run up his chest when he looked at it. But somehow the tea he made it in always tasted better than any other.
Jon was seated on the couch skimming through a book that he had pulled from Martin’s bookshelf. He sat with his leg pulled up and his head resting on the top of his knee.
“Reading anything interesting?” Martin asked as he walked out of the kitchen with the teapot and two mugs set on a tray. He put the set down on the table in front of his couch and sat down next to Jon.
“I have never understood poetry.” Jon said, turning the book to reveal the cover to Martin. The Selected Poems of Seamus Heaney.
“Then why are you still reading it?” Martin laughed lightly as he poured their tea. He handed a mug to Jon who set the book on the table and nodded as he took the cup.
“I don’t know.” Jon shrugged. “I guess I just want to understand what you’re saying when you talk about it. I like hearing you ramble about imagery and metaphor and whatnot, but sometimes I wish I had the context.”
“Well if you really want me to help you understand some of it I will, but I get the feeling that you’re just going to hate it more if you try and force it.” Martin said, as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of Jon’s head.
“You’re probably right.” Jon smiled.
“Besides, you can’t get too interested. If you start writing too, you’ll clearly be better than me at it. I need to have something that I can do without you upstaging me.”
“Come on, that’s hardly likely. I don’t upstage you in everything.” Jon said, sipping his tea.
“Well you are awful at talking to people. I might have that over you as well.” Martin laughed.
“I can talk to people!” Jon said defensively.
“Oh come off it. You know you’re much better with spooky stories and hidden secrets than you’ve ever been with flesh and blood humans.” Martin said.
“I’m good with you.” Jon smirked.
“I have weird tastes.” Martin smiled. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Jon’s lips. He smiled as he felt Jon’s stubble tickle the corners of his mouth. He pulled away after a moment and grabbed his own mug.
Martin sipped his tea quietly and leaned against Jon, letting his head rest on the Archivist's shoulder. Jon smiled and wrapped his arm around Martin’s waist, fiddling with the hem of Martin’s sweater as he brought his mug to his lips with his other hand.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Jon said quietly.
Martin smiled and leaned further against Jon’s chest.
“I’m just glad that you finally got me.” Martin smiled. “There are too many things trying to kill us all for you to be worried about whether or not you’re allowed to be happy.”
“You’re right.” Jon smiled. “We should all just count ourselves lucky that we found small things that make us feel alive while we still have the chance.”
“Exactly.” Martin said. He swallowed a large sip of tea before he turned and pressed a light kiss on the edge of Jon’s jaw. Jon turned and captured Martin’s lips in a kiss, and Martin felt his entire stomach swell as he smiled against his partner’s mouth. He spent so long wistfully pining after Jon. It was still shocking to him that he was finally allowed to kiss those lips.
Jon leaned back and took Martin’s mug from his hands, and placed both of their half drunk teas on the table. He wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck and pressed several light kisses against the side of his face. Martin pulled Jon against him and let his hands rest on the back of Jon’s shoulders.
Martin felt his entire face get hot and he wanted to pull Jon onto his lap and run his hands over all of the skin he could find. He pulled back slightly, forcing himself to steady his thoughts.
“Martin.” Jon whispered against Martin’s neck.
“Mhm.” Martin hummed, his eyes closed and his head resting gently on Jon’s shoulders.
“Do you want to do more?” Jon asked quietly.
Martin paused and pulled away so he could look Jon in the eye.
“What do you mean ‘more’?” Martin asked.
Jon looked down at his hands and twirled his fingers slightly.
“I know you said not to Know things about you, but sometimes you think so loud. I can’t help it.”
Martin’s entire face flushed bright red, and he pushed his palms into his eyes.
“Oh god, Jon.”
“Martin, its–uh. I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide things from me.” Jon muttered. “And, if you want to do anything like that…” he trailed off before he could finish.
“I know you don’t usually do that kind of thing. I can’t help my thoughts sometimes, but I don’t want to push you if you’re not interested.”
“I mean it’s not like I’m totally oblivious. I tried a couple times with Georgie, and a few others. But–”
“But you weren’t really into it.” Martin cut him off. Jon nodded lightly.
“I suppose it just felt like a waste of time.” Jon chuckled, “But I don’t want you to feel like I can’t give you everything you want.”
Martin smiled and grabbed Jon’s hands that were still fidgeting in his lap.
“You are everything I want. I don’t need anything more than you want to give. I won't ask you to do anything that you aren’t interested in. Besides, I feel like you’ll just hate it more if you try and force it.” Martin said.
“Why do I feel like I’ve heard you say that before?” Jon said, smiling. Martin laughed and leaned against Jon, resting his head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. He ran his fingers along his chest, feeling a slight pull in his stomach as he reached the small gap where he was missing two ribs. Jon noticed him tense and reached up to run his fingers through Martin's curly hair.
The two of them sat there for what felt like hours, letting the world outside simply exist. They let themselves live for just a few moments without any worries of what might try and kill them the next time they ventured outside the protective doors of Martin’s small flat.