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It came as a bit of a surprise when Elias realized he could See his Archivist again. Not that he hadn’t been looking, of course. Jon had simply been somewhere protected from his Sight, squirreled away where he couldn’t see. It would be a lie to say the months not knowing hadn’t been grinding on him, but now his Archivist had returned and… oh.
Oh, Jon, what have you gotten yourself into this time? The precise moment of Jon’s escape had been unexpected, but it paled in comparison to Elias’ shock when he Saw the state the Circus had left him in. It was almost enough to move him to pity. He may be powerful, but Elias is no fortune-teller, and he certainly hadn’t predicted this particular… side effect.
It made sense, in retrospect. Nikola had taken him for his skin, and Jon had had so little to offer. Keyword: had. It was clear now that she had been doing her best to remedy that. The man that Elias now Beheld was small only in reference to height. He was almost unrecognizable under the thick layers of fat that now adorned his once-skeletal frame. What an exquisitely Stranger thing to do, to strip him of his face, to make it so he didn’t recognize the person in the mirror. Likely not their intention, but still it brought a ghost of a smile to Elias’ lips.
It would be such fun to simply sit back and watch the consequences of this development play out. After all, he was of the Eye, and his instinct was to watch, to observe, and not to interfere. But alas, there was work to be done, and he would prefer to have his Archivist back sooner rather than later if at all possible.
And what better way to get him back than a welcome home gift? A little something to make him feel more comfortable, to ease the transition back to whatever passes as normalcy in their lives.
So a few short shopping trips later, Elias found himself at the door to Jon’s flat with an armful of boxes. When his polite knocking went unanswered, he simply opened the conveniently unlocked door and let himself in. One would think somebody as paranoid and hunted as Jon would lock their door more religiously.
“I’m coming inside, Jon,” he called out as he entered the dusty flat. Three months of abandonment hadn’t left the place clean, and evidently, Jon hadn’t yet gotten around to fixing that yet. “I brought you something.”
No response came because Jon was asleep. Elias Knew this, of course, but he was trying to be polite. He made no effort to keep quiet as he puttered about, setting his purchases on the kitchen table and doing a little light cleaning while he waited to be noticed, but he also wasn’t purposefully being loud. Jon had been under an undue amount of stress recently, and he deserved a bit of rest if he needed it. Not to mention that Elias wasn’t fond of the prospect of his Archivist giving himself a heart attack before he was ready to ascend.
The seconds turned to minutes and politeness turned to impatience and Jon was still asleep half an hour later. Elias could only wait so long, and he had half a mind to shake Jon awake so they could both get back to work. He even got as far as the bedroom door to do just that when he saw him there in the bed. All feelings of frustration drained away in an instant, replaced with something softer, warmer. How could he possibly be mad at this beautiful man, curled up and sleeping so peacefully?
He had to take a moment to indulge himself and the Eye, standing in the doorway drinking in the sight and committing it to memory. Nikola had certainly done a number on him, something that was on full display now as Jon slept in only his boxers and socks, the blankets all kicked to the side. He was practically naked, and that thought did funny things to Elias’ heart. Unexpected things.
Elias traced every curve of Jon’s body with his eyes, noting all the ways his unplanned weight gain changed how he looked and all the ways it didn’t. Where once there had been only sharp angles and harsh lines he was now so soft. Everything looked so soft. The way his limbs laid heavy over the mattress, thick thighs and pillowy arms, the way the skin on his sides compressed into perfect rolls where he laid curled up on his side, the way his belly spilled out in front of him, the way his ass was squeezed into those boxers which he’d clearly grown out of ages ago.
Well, that was a rather lewd thought. Not the kind Elias had come here expecting to have. He shook himself out of it and moved into the room. He was here for a reason, and that reason wasn’t to explore the extent of his attraction to his Archivist. An attraction that had unfortunately increased over the past few minutes.
He sat gently at the edge of the mattress and the motion caused Jon to stir in his sleep. It wasn’t enough to bring him fully to wakefulness though. Elias brushed Jon’s long hair from his face, and oh, what an exquisite texture, coarse and wavy but thin; it wasn’t difficult to imagine running his fingers through that hair in a more intimate context. He tucked the silvery lock behind his ear and ghosted his fingertips down the now-soft line of his unshaven jaw and whispered, “It’s time to wake up, Jonathan.”
Jon’s eyes fluttered open at his voice. His eyes hadn’t changed, or at least not because of his encounter with the Stranger. They were still the bright emerald green of Beholding; eyes that mirrored Elias’ own in color and intensity. Elias only got a short moment to appreciate those eyes before the sleep was blinked away and Jon scrambled away from him in realization of his position, eyes wide and breath shallow.
“E- Elias? Why… How… What?” His perfect cupid’s-bow lips moved like a fish as he tried to find the coherency to form an actual question. Those lips certainly hadn’t changed either.
Elias frowned at the fear reaction. He had irrationally hoped Jon would be happy to see him. “I tried waiting, but it didn’t seem like you’d be waking on your own any time soon. I brought you something.” Jon’s expression was one of utter confusion mixed with fear and Elias could feel the strong emotion rolling off him in waves. “I’ll be waiting in the kitchen if you’d like a moment to get dressed,” he continued. Assuming you own anything that still fits. He didn’t say the last part out loud. Jon was embarrassed enough already, he didn’t need extra comments to unnecessarily remind him of what Elias could tell from his body language he was trying to forget.
It didn’t take long for Jon to get ready. Elias barely had to wait five minutes until he reluctantly appeared in the doorway. A dark grey hoodie sporting the logo of the What the Ghost? podcast clung tightly to his form and his ratty sweatpants were practically painted on, skin trying to escape through the small holes worn from time. In Elias’ eyes, the outfit was almost slutty, and he was suddenly thankful for his centuries of practice controlling his expressions. When had his attraction to Jon moved from the cerebral to something more carnal? Why was he suddenly panting internally every time he saw the man move?
When he yawned and stretched upon entering the kitchen, the hem of the sweatshirt rode up about an inch to reveal a strip of dark, scar-striped flesh obscenely spilling over the waist of his pants and Elias nearly lost his mind. As soon as the cold air hit his skin though, Jon flinched and hastily pulled the fabric back down with a scowl. “Now will you explain what you’re doing in my flat, and why I woke up to find you sitting on my bed? That’s really creepy, Elias, even for you.”
Elias miraculously managed to keep himself cool and collected as he gestured to the boxes stacked on the table and smiled. “I told you: I brought you something. Call it a welcome home gift. As for your other question, I was trying to be polite. I don’t expect you would have been very pleased if you had been shaken awake.”
Jon narrowed his eyes, unconvinced by the truth. “Right. Because breaking into people’s homes while they’re asleep is polite now.”
“In my defense, the door was unlocked. Besides, it’s the middle of the afternoon. Most people are usually awake by now.”
“Well, excuse me for wanting to sleep in my own bed for a bit after being kidnapped for three months,” he huffed, making his way over to the table to cautiously inspect the gifts. “It’s not like I was on vacation.” The boxes were each flat, unadorned, and for the most part identical to one another. There were three of them, and Jon laid them out next to each other in a clean row before slowly opening the first one. Almost immediately his gaze shot back to Elias, uncertain. “Clothing?”
“I do hope they all fit,” Elias purred. “I could only guess your size based on what I could See, but I suspected you might appreciate something more comfortable to wear until you can properly update your wardrobe.”
Jon stared at him and Elias could practically see the gears turning in his head until all of a sudden his face fell, confusion replaced with embarrassment, anger, and perhaps even a twinge of sadness. “O- oh. Right, I… Thank you, Elias.” His tone was despondent as he turned back to the boxes, pawing silently through each of them in turn to see their contents. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Elias cupped one of Jon’s cheeks in his hand and turned his face to his own. “No, but I wanted to.” His smile was soft and gentle, but more importantly, it was genuine. “I searched for you, you know. Whatever they did to you there, you didn’t deserve it.” He brushed a thumb across Jon’s cheekbone and very nearly lost himself in his eyes. His cheeks may have filled out and his jawline softened, but Jon was just as beautiful as he had always been, scars and all. His perfect, perfect Archivist. “Why don’t you go try them on. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.”
Jon nodded wordlessly but didn’t immediately move away. Instead, a hand drifted to cover the one Elias held him with. Long, calloused fingers covered thin, well-kept ones, and once again Elias’ heart threatened to break his ribs.
“Go,” he mouthed, gently nudging Jon away. Gathering the new clothes in his arms, Jon obediently scuttered out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom to get dressed.
As soon as he was sure Jon was out of earshot, Elias let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and collapsed into the nearest chair, heart pounding and out of breath. He needed to control himself. This had to be some trick of the Spiral, or perhaps even the Stranger, because he wasn’t willing to admit that maybe he was just smitten with the man. Maybe he had been since the moment they’d first met. Maybe that was part of the reason he’d chosen Jon to be the vessel for his god, the one who would bring to life the plans he’d worked centuries to form, the one to rule the ruined world by his side.
This man who had already been so beautiful in face, mind, and potential, Elias already loved him, and now he was even more attractive. It was almost too much. Elias ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath to calm himself down. Their relationship was strictly professional for the time being, and besides, he knew Jon was attracted to somebody else. He respected his Archivist, and if he wanted to pursue that useless assistant of his, then so be it. He knew Jon would be his in the end; he could wait.
That didn’t change the fact that he was still tongue-tied. Jon was perfect, perfect, “so perfect.”
It wasn’t until he noticed Jon staring at him from the doorway confusedly that Elias realized what he’d said. “The clothes,” he corrected with a strained smile, hastily standing up and smoothing out his own shirt. “They look like a perfect fit. Very you. Now, since we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’ll be going. I expect to see you back at work within the week. Good day, Jon.” His words were clipped and hurried, but they weren’t a lie. The outfit looked very good, and he was happy to see that his judgments were correct. It was just that Jon had caught him in a moment of weakness and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
So he turned on his heel and headed for the door. There were other things that needed his attention, even if he didn’t want to give them it. Even if his mind and his Eyes were guaranteed to stay here in Jon’s flat.
“Wait.” The rough texture of a heavily scarred palm encircled his wrist as he reached for the doorknob, stopping him in his tracks. Jon wouldn’t meet his eyes when he turned back, but he didn’t let go either. “I don’t… I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Was Jon blushing? It was hard to tell from this angle. Was… oh god, was Elias blushing? He could school his features all he wanted but no amount of practice can keep away those annoying physiological responses. Curse this body for betraying him. He tried to keep the waver out of his voice as he responded, “Are you asking me to stay?”
Jon hesitated, still refusing to look at him. “Only if you want to,” he whispered.
He wanted to. He desperately wanted to stay. Elias swallowed and replied in the same soft tone. “Yes,” he admitted. There was no use denying it at this point, now that Jon had explicitly invited him to stay.
Finally, Jon met his eyes. He was definitely blushing just as much as Elias was, though the exact cause was unclear. Maybe he was just embarrassed to admit he needed company. Or maybe it was because it was Elias specifically he was asking to stay. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
No more of that. Before either of them knew what was happening, Elias had both hands on Jon’s face and was locked to his lips. Feelings are more complicated than facts, and Elias can’t exactly read minds, but he needed to know. He’d be able to move on even if he found out that Jon had no interest in him, but he couldn’t stay in this state of limbo. He couldn’t handle not knowing any longer.
So when Jon pushed him breathlessly away, blinking rapidly and shaking his head, he thought he had his answer. When Jon covered his face with his hands to hide the deepening red of his cheeks, Elias took that as a sign that his feelings were one-sided. It hurt, but it was okay. Now he knew.
Except that he didn’t know. The real answer to his unspoken question came when he opened his mouth to apologize, only to find Jon in the way of his words. Only to find Jon saying yes, yes, in every nonverbal way he knew. Jon’s hands resting gently on his narrow hips, pulling him closer, and their mouths pressed together in a way that until now had only ever existed in his mind.
“Jon,” he gasped, pulling back only enough that he could look him in the eyes. If there was one thing in this world he didn’t understand, it was Jon. Even the workings of It Is Not What It Is made more sense to him than the motivations of his beloved Archivist. One minute the man looked at him with almost palpable disgust, and the next he was kissing him. Yet still, Elias could decipher nothing behind those bright green eyes, eyes that were made to See but not be Seen.
Jon shrank away almost instantly, crossing his arms tightly across his chest and rubbing at his mouth. “Sorry, I… I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled. “I understand if you want to leave. Th- thanks again for the clothes.”
Elias couldn’t suppress the soft laugh that bubbled up in his throat. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, Jon. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t… But I… You… That was-”
“Relax,” Elias interrupted, once again cupping Jon’s cheek in his hand. When Jon closed his eyes and leaned into the touch with an almost inaudible whine, Elias’ heart melted. God, he loved this man. “I kissed you first, remember? Come, let’s sit down and we can talk.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”
Jon let Elias lead him back to the kitchen, guided by a firm but comforting hand placed at the center of his back. They sat across from each other at the small table, far enough to give Jon space if he needed it, but close enough that they could call it intimate if they wanted to. The room was cold and utilitarian, somewhere that existed solely out of necessity and not a place designed for comfort. Clearly, Jon wasn’t used to having company over, but Elias knew how to be a good guest as well as how to be a good host, in any environment. He was nothing if not socially adept.
“What kind of food do you like?” he asked, pulling his phone out after a short stretch of silence.
“What?” Jon seemed quite out of it. He kept zoning out whenever they weren’t talking, in a way Elias could tell was more than just his usual distractedness.
“Food. I’m buying you dinner. I don’t imagine you’ve had much of a chance to eat since you got back.” A statement could probably wait until he was ready to come back to work.
“Oh. N- no, I haven’t. Um.” He blinked and shook his head, coming back to reality. “I don’t know. Just… just not hamburgers. If I never have to eat one of those again, it’ll be too soon.” A short laugh punctuated his sentence, but it held no humor, only pain.
Elias grimaced internally. He didn’t want to think about what Nikola had put Jon through to leave him like this, but it wasn’t hard to imagine. “Right,” he said. “How about pizza? Easy to eat and it makes good leftovers.”
“That’s, uh, that works,” Jon responded. “Can it have vegetables? I haven’t seen anything green in ages.”
“Of course.” A couple taps later, Elias slid his phone back into his pocket, content in the knowledge that food was on its way. He’d ordered a large, even though it was only the two of them, telling himself it was so Jon could have leftovers for a couple days. He wasn’t a very good liar though, so he wasn’t quite convinced he hadn’t ordered it for selfish, voyeuristic reasons. Wasn’t quite convinced it wasn’t because he knew Jon would want to eat the whole thing and because he wanted to watch. The Stranger had thought they were so clever in their impromptu torture of his Archivist, but really they had just made him fit Elias’ description of the ideal body type. It was almost Web-like in its convenience.
When he looked back over to the other side of the table, Jon was staring down at his hands frustratedly, picking at the soft skin with nails in desperate need of a trim. “Jon, stop that,” Elias reprimanded, placing a gentle hand over the victimized skin. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Sorry.” Jon looked up sharply, face turning red in shame, but looked back down as soon as his eyes met Elias’. “It’s just… they don’t look like my hands anymore. I don’t recognize them.” As he spoke, he cautiously turned over Elias’ palm and laced their fingers together.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Elias smiled, watching as Jon played with their hands together. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?” Jon scoffed. “About my hands? About the fact that I got kidnapped by one monster and only escaped because a different monster decided it would be more fun to leave me alive? About the fact that I can barely recognize myself in the mirror because of what they did to me? Of what I- what I did to myself?” As he went on, tears were starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. His grip on Elias’ hand was like a vice. “I was complicit. I let her ruin my body. I- I didn’t fight back.”
Elias pulled his chair around to sit next to Jon. He was no stranger to the feeling that comes with not recognizing your reflection. That confusion that borders on fear when the face in the mirror doesn’t match the one you’re used to seeing. It goes away, Jon. He wanted to assure him that the shock of suddenly having a different body doesn’t last forever, but there were still things that needed to remain hidden, secrets to be kept.
“You did what you had to. That’s not the same as being complicit.” Elias squeezed his hand. The secrets were for Jon’s own good. In the end, everything he did was for Jon’s own good.
Jon leaned forward and rested his forehead on Elias’ chest with a huff, for a moment forgetting the awkwardness of their professional relationship. “Does it make a difference that I enjoyed it? Isn’t that wrong?”
“You worry too much about right and wrong,” Elias sighed, rubbing broad circles across Jon’s back. “Things aren’t as black and white as you want them to be. Sometimes we just need to focus on what we need in the moment. It’s not wrong to want to find comfort when it feels like the rest of the world is against you.”
Jon was silent at that. He fidgeted with the fabric of Elias’ shirt and when his slow breaths started to stutter with the first stages of crying, Elias brushed his fingers through his long hair and pressed his lips to the crown of his head. He let Jon cry, not caring that tears and eventually snot were getting on his expensive dress shirt. His Archivist needed a soothing presence, so that’s what Elias tried to be.
****
They both jumped when the doorbell interrupted them. Over the past half hour, they had settled into a comfortable silence there in the cold kitchen, with Jon practically in Elias’ lap as he hovered on the edge of sleep, exhausted from crying until there were no tears left. It was the most he had let himself cry in years.
Elias was more startled by the fact that the sound had surprised him than he was by the bell itself. He had been so engrossed in Jon, Jon, Jon, that he had forgotten to keep the rest of his Eyes open. But what was he supposed to do, ignore how deeply right it felt to hold him in his arms and be there when he needed it most? No, this was where he belonged, Beholding be damned.
That said, somebody had to get up to answer the door. And Jon still didn’t look to be in any state to interact with strangers just yet.
“Jon,” he started, soft so as not to startle him again. “Will you be okay here for a minute while I get the door?”
Jon blinked up at him for a second, slowly adjusting to the resumption of activity. “Hm? Oh, uh, yeah.” He smiled sleepily. “Yeah, I’ll be good.” He pressed a quick kiss to Elias’ lips before shifting in his chair so he could rest on the table rather than against him.
Elias turned quickly away to hide the blush heating his cheeks. Yes, he was very much smitten with Jon, but that didn’t mean he was used to this kind of domestic affection. “Good. I’ll be…” He swallowed and smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt as he stood. “I’ll be right back then.”
A minute away from the kitchen and Jon was enough for Elias to regain his composure. The pizza delivery boy may have left with the uncanny feeling of being watched, but that was hardly his fault. Some people are just unfortunate enough to end up on the wrong side of the Fears.
Not him though. Elias considered himself to be nothing but fortunate right now. He had a box of pizza in his arms that smelled delicious and a very handsome man waiting for him in the other room who had just kissed him. The only thing that could be better would be if he did it again. And again. Really all he wanted at this moment was to be loved by Jon and to show him how much he was loved in return. And if things happened to end up getting a little more physical, well. Elias wasn’t going to complain.
“Special delivery for Mr. Sims?” Elias returned to the kitchen with a flourish and a grin, setting the box in the center of the table. He was feeling rather bright and made no effort to hide it.
Jon looked up from where he had nearly fallen back asleep on his arms. “Wha- oh, that’s not… not what I had expected.” He propped his cheek up with his elbow on the table and smiled, a little confused but mostly just happy that Elias was back. “Don’t you think that’s a bit large for only two people?”
“Leftovers,” Elias assured him, returning to his seat. “I expect readjusting to everyday life will be difficult enough without the added pressure of needing to feed yourself.”
“I suppose that’s logical.” Jon reached hesitantly for the box. It was obvious he felt self-conscious about the situation, but Elias didn’t need to read his mind to know he was starving. The poor man hadn’t eaten in nearly a day; anybody would be hungry.
And that couldn’t have been more obvious than when Jon took the first bite of the steaming hot pizza. His muffled moan of pleasure was almost obscene, and the sound sent Elias’ mind to dirty places not for the first time that night. If only he could get Jon to make those noises all the time. He wanted to kiss him again, wanted to find all the ways that he liked to be touched, wanted to know him as well as he Knew him.
That probably wouldn’t be happening, of course. Elias was well aware of Jon’s feelings about sex and he didn’t want to end up taking advantage of him in a moment of emotional weakness (he may not be human but he’s not a monster), but he was still allowed to keep his fantasies, wasn’t he? He was allowed to watch transfixed as Jon forgot his reservations and devoured the pizza. He was allowed to imagine what it might be like to sit behind Jon and massage away the pain in his soft belly as he encouraged him to finish it all, kissing his neck and breathing in his scent all the while.
But, bless the Eye, he was beautiful. Even if Elias never got the chance to get as close as he wanted, right now it was enough just to behold. And behold he did, to the point where he was once again so engrossed in watching Jon that he didn’t notice that the box was empty until Jon dropped his head on the table and whined softly in regret.
“Is everything alright, Jon?” Elias reached over to place a gentle hand over Jon’s.
Jon sighed and pulled Elias’ hand up to his cheek. His face was flushed with the exertion of having to digest everything he’d just eaten. “No, I… really shouldn’t have done that. Why didn’t you stop me?” He looked up at Elias with a softly amused smile.
Elias laughed. “Call me soft, but I was distracted.”
“Distracted by what? Me stuffing my face like a pig?”
Elias choked on his breath and he could feel his face flushing bright red. “Y- yes…” He looked away embarrassed. Why did Jon have to choose that phrase, the one that turned him on so much more than was really appropriate?
He looked back to his Archivist abruptly. “Jon, will you let me kiss you again?”
Jon was caught off guard by this, and the Eye told Elias that the red in his cheeks was no longer purely caused by exhaustion. “I don’t know why you would want to…” he muttered, “but…”
“...But?”
Elias wasn’t prepared for the response to be so immediate. Or so passionate. The taste of Jon’s lips was dizzying, and this time Elias gave himself permission to really enjoy it. His mouth was so soft, his tongue so eager to push past Elias’ lips, to explore his mouth like this was more than just a kiss.
And really, it was more than just a kiss. This time it was intentional from both sides. It was a (not quite) silent admission of mutual attraction, the resolution of too many years of pining from both sides. And Elias was in bliss.
His Archivist was beautiful, perfect, delicious, and he needed him. More than anything, Elias needed him. His hands moved without his permission, gently gliding over Jon’s chest and taking in the texture of the sweater and the softness underneath. They slid downwards as he learned the firm roundness of his overfull stomach, the exquisite squish of his love handles, and the wide expanse of his thighs where they came to rest. Elias loved this new whale of a man.
“Tell me what you want,” Jon breathed.
“I want this off,” Elias responded, tugging lightly at the hem of the sweater and smiling. “I want you.”