Work Text:
Their first kiss was nothing special. A soft peck while standing on the platform at the first train station they could find, a gentle press of the lips that neither of them mentioned, both looking away blushing before it could be addressed. Jon on tiptoes to reach Martin's face, Martin bending down to meet Jon halfway. The faintest whisper of the Lonely shrugged away by clasped hands and bumping shoulders.
Martin didn't have a name for the feeling that settled somewhere deep in his chest, hidden where his ribcage and layers of soft sweaters could hide it, keep it secret and safe. He tucked it somewhere near the months after the Unknowing, inside the wardrobe with the suit he'd worn to Tim and his mother's funerals.
The long ride from London to Scotland took them on an overnight train, both sat in silence staring out of the window. Martin put his hand on Jon's arm and Jon glanced at him, quietly staring up at him from behind long lashes and tired eyes that closed contentedly as Martin kissed his temple.
Martin wasn't sure what line they were on but Jon stood as they approached one of the stations, so Martin followed, trailing after him like some sort of lonely puppy. Jon glanced back at him, smiling as he saw Martin following, carrying the bag he had shoved some clothes into in the mad dash to leave London.
On a different platform, in a city that Martin didn't know the name of, Martin couldn't help but gaze at Jon, examining the lines and curves of his face, the dark bags under his eyes, the gaunt lines of his cheekbones, the tight press of his lips. It was all familiar, all identical to the way he'd been carefully preserved while Jon had been in his coma. Martin had sat for hours then, committing the image to memory.
The slump of his shoulders was new, as was the heavy knitted jumper that covered them.
"Is that mine?"
Jon looked down at the jumper, smoothing his burned hand down the patterns. "I'm sorry. I found it in document storage, I held onto it because- It reminded me of you and I needed that. I didn't want to forget you."
Martin smiled and held his arms out for Jon to fold himself into. He did so, tucking his head under Martin's chin, sighing contentedly as Martin wrapped his arms around him tightly, pulling him close enough that he could feel Jon's warmth against his body.
"I'm here."
"I know. I don't want to lose you again."
"I promise I won't go anywhere."
There, on the platform of a train station, somewhere between London and the middle of nowhere, Martin allowed himself to indulge in all of the kisses he had been craving for years. They could be lazy for a while, existing quietly in each other's space, sharing small smiles and tight embraces, pretending the world didn't exist, that all they had to worry about was the polite cough from one of the other commuters on the platform rather than the police and Jonah and the evils at the edges of reality.
All that mattered was Jon and Martin and the soft, unspoken thing between them.