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Dance card is open.
The words floated through Martin’s head, echoing between the walls of the tiny storage room he was staying in.
Clearly it had been a joke, he thought as he unenthusiastically stirred a fork through some cheap pot noodles. It was the mushroom and chicken kind, which usually was Martin’s favourite, but he was too distracted to fully enjoy them. Plus he was slowly growing tired of pot noodles.
Dance card is open .
It was stupid, Martin decided. Tim clearly had meant it as a joke. He just had that flirty personality and he liked to rile Martin up, that was all. There was no way Tim liked him like that.
It didn’t help that Martin actually had a little crush on Tim. When Tim had asked him earlier if his crush had been himself, Martin had been close to dying. But it was impossible not to have a crush on Tim. Firstly he was so attractive it hurt. But Tim was also so much more. He was funny and caring and he was one of the few people Martin trusted blindly. Not to mention that he was incredibly smart, even though he liked to pretend he wasn’t, and Martin loved listening to him rant about all kinds of thing. Okay so maybe Martin’s crush on Tim wasn’t that little, maybe it was a lot closer to being in love with Tim, but it didn’t matter because Tim obviously didn’t like him that way.
Martin finished his pot noodles and moved to the break room to throw them out and make some more tea before trying to cuddle up on his cot with some poetry. Just as Martin was about to enter the break room the door opened and Martin crashed into Tim of all people, almost losing his balance.
“Whoah, careful there Marto,” Tim clasped a hand on Martin’s shoulder, keeping them both from falling over. “Almost swept me off my feet there,” he added with a wink and Martin could feel his face growing hot.
He was painfully aware of how close he and Tim were standing and how Tim’s hand was still resting on his shoulder. If Tim moved his hand just a couple of inches down he would be able to feel Martin’s heart trying to jump out of his chest.
“I didn’t know you were still in the archive,” he said and made a small step to the side so that Tim could step fully out of the door, but also so that he could get away from Tim’s hand.
“Oh I wasn’t,” Tim replied and as expected stepped out of the door, making way for Martin to enter the breakroom. “Just forgot my wallet,” he held up his wallet for Martin to see and Martin gave him a little nod.
“Well I see you on Monday then,” Martin said and wanted to step into the break room, but Tim suddenly pushed his hand against the door frame, his arm now blocking the way.
“Tim?” Martin whined and turned around to face Tim. All he had wanted was to spend his Friday night in peace, drinking his tea, writing some poetry and enjoy some alone time. He was not in the mood for Tim’s shenanigans, especially not after this afternoon and the weird fluttering in Martin’s stomach every time he thought about it.
“Please don’t tell me,” Tim said his horrified eyes fixed on Martin’s pot noodles, “that that was your dinner.”
Defensively Martin pressed the cup against his chest. “It’s not like the institute has a proper kitchen,” he grumbled. “Plus, it’s cheap. Money is a bit tight at the moment. With everything with my mum, you know?”
At the mention of Martin’s mum Tim’s face immediately softened and he nodded gently.
Martin only had recently confided in Tim about his mother’s illness and how much of his paycheck he gave to make her life as comfortable as possible and how even then he was never good enough of a son for her. Tim had hugged him tightly, telling him that he was doing amazing and Martin had felt better for a bit. Tim always listened and was willing to cheer Martin up and Martin appreciated him so much for it. In return Tim had opened up about Danny and it had been Martin’s turn to hug him. Neither of them could make the pain go away, but holding each other made things bearable for both of them.
Both of them had gone quiet after what Martin had said. Tim was staring at him and Martin had to avert his eyes, Tim’s compassion simply was too much.
“Still, unacceptable,” Tim broke the tense silence that had settled between them and grabbed both of Martin’s shoulders, making him flinch in surprise. “Go get your coat, Martin.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I was headed to the pub, “Tim explained. “And now you’re coming with me, I’m buying you dinner!”
“Tim, no,” Martin tried to protest but Tim already spun him around and pushed him towards the storage room.
“No arguing,” Tim said with faux sternness. And then he added with a surprisingly tender voice, “Let me do this for you.”
Martin had to swallow. “Okay, fine,” he gave in and the big grin Tim gave him in response was worth it so much.
It took them about 20 minutes to walk to the nearest Wetherspoons. During their walk Martin buried his hands deeply in the pockets of his coat as it was still quite cold for the end of March. Meanwhile Tim was just rambling on about a new book he had just read about Robert Smirk. He was so excited about it Martin’s heart ached with how cute he was.
When they arrived at the pub Tim ushered Martin towards a free booth so that Martin could look at the menu while Tim would queue for drinks.
“Magners cider, bottle not tap?” he asked while Martin was taking off his coat and all he could do was nod.
The fact that Tim knew exactly what his favourite drink was, was sending sparks through Martin’s body. Tim always noticed the little things that other people might deem unimportant. It was one of the reasons Martin liked him so much. Tim always paid attention.
Once again the words Dance card is open went through Martin’s mind.
It was that moment that Tim returned to their little booth, placing a bottle of cider in front of Martin and a pint of beer in front of himself.
“Here you go,” Tim said, “Do you already know what you want to eat?”
But Martin was too wound up to answer.
“Tim,” he blurted out instead, already feeling his cheeks burn. “This isn’t a date, is it?”
Tim choked on his pint. No matter how embarrassed Martin was, he automatically started patting Tim’s back.
“What? No,” Tim eventually managed to cough out. “Why? Did you think it was a date?”
Martin was utterly petrified. Of course this hadn’t been a date, he was such an idiot. And now he would have to explain it to Tim. And Tim would realize that Martin liked him and then he would get that pitiful look in his eyes that several people in Martin’s past had given him when he had expressed romantic interest.
“It’s stupid really,” he mumbled and focused on his cider, peeling off the label of the bottle. “It’s because yousaidyourdancecardwasopen.”
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” by now Tim had stopped coughing. Martin took a deep breath before looking up from his bottle and right into Tim’s eyes.
“It’s because you said that your dance card was open,” he repeated it, clearly this time. “And well then you insisted that I come out to the pub, and you offered to buy me dinner and I was just wondering.”
Martin realized he was not the only one blushing. There was a beautiful, pink hue tinting Tim’s face.
“I mean do you want this to be a date?” Tim asked and it was Martin’s turn to choke on his drink.
“Do you ?” Martin shot back once he had recovered, hating how sequeaky he sounded.
“I mean I have only been flirting with you since the day we met,” Tim admitted sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Trying to shoot my shot.”
“But...but you flirt with everyone,” Martin stuttered, unable to take in the information that Tim apparently liked him. Tim let out a low chuckle and placed his hand on top of Martin’s.
“There is a difference between me flirting with people for research information ,” he said and gave Martin’s hand a little squeeze. “And me honestly flirting with you. Like none of the people I went on ‘dates’ with for research,” Tim made a point to air quote the word ‘dates’, “could tell you a single true thing about me. But you,” Tim looked at him so fondly Martin struggled to breathe, “you are one of the few people who actually know me.”
“Oh,” Martin said, not knowing what else to reply.
“Yeah,” Tim said softly, and took his hand away from Martin’s. Martin already missed the touch.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Martin croaked.
“Well for once I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” Tim said, now he was the one fixated on his pint. “And secondly, I didn’t know if your dance card was open.”
Martin couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh it’s so open,” he said and Tim’s eyes snapped to him. “But only for you, Tim Stoker.”
“Yeah?” Tim asked, laying his hand palm up on the table.
“Yeah,” Martin confirmed, placing his hand in Tim’s open palm.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Martin and Tim ordered food, they ate, they talked, they joked and Martin fell more and more in love with Tim every passing minute.
When they left the pub neither of them was very eager to walk home. They stood huddled together in the late March cold, neither wanting their conversation to end.
“I’m actually a bit offended,” Tim confessed, shivering, pressing closer to Martin.
Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise, also leaning closer towards Tim.
“Oh?” he asked. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, I can’t believe you thought I would take someone on a date to a Spoons ,” Tim tried his best to sound hurt, “I have standards, Martin.”
“Hmmm, I guess I’ll have to find a way to make up for that,” Martin whispered and stepped even closer to Tim.
“Yeah, I guess you do,” Tim’s voice was suddenly very hoarse and he put his finger under Martin’s chin lifting it up. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.
Martin didn’t bother to respond. Instead he leaned forward and finally kissed Tim. It was slow and tender, neither of them pressing for something more. They both knew there would be plenty of time to fully explore the other. Still they were reluctant to part from each other.
“Come home with me?” Tim asked softly before quickly adding, “Nothing untoward...unless you want to.” Another blush was creeping over his face, Martin could get used to Tim being flustered more often. “I just,” Tim took a deep breath,” I just thought you might want to spend a night in a real bed, away from the archives.”
Martin was so incredibly fond of Tim in that moment that all he could do was lean forward and press another soft kiss against Tim’s lips.
“I would love to,” he said and Tim gripped his hand tightly, pulling him along through the night.