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“I-I’m sorry?” Martin stared in shock at Jon, wanting to make sure he had heard him right.
“I said,” Jon reiterated, annoyance creeping into his voice, “are you free on Saturday?”
Martin was about to short circuit where he stood.
“Me? Free? On Saturday?” Martin asked, voice getting slightly louder with each question.
Jon let out a huff, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
“Nevermind.” He said bluntly, and turned to leave the breakroom while Martin dumbly watched him.
Earth to myself! He’s leaving! Stop him!
“Wait, wait!” Martin shouted before Jon could leave, “I-I’m free on Saturday...why?”
“I, uh, need someone to take me to a doctor's appointment- the optometrist.”
Oh...that’s unexpected.
Martin couldn’t help the “why me?” that tumbled out of his mouth, wincing after he said it, hoping Jon wouldn't take it the wrong way.
“No one else is able to. You were my last resort.” Jon stated simply.
Oh.
“Well, pick me up at 1pm if you could, I think the Institute is a fine meeting place.”
Not only am I his last resort, but he won’t even let me pick him up from his flat? What a serious bummer.
“Sure, 1pm is good, see you, um, then.” Martin tried to give a warm smile.
Jon gave him a curt nod and walked out of the breakroom. Martin slumped into a chair, putting his face in his hands.
This was a mistake.
How was he supposed to make conversation with Jon for the x amount of hours they were going to be together on Saturday? They could hardly make conversation as it is. He didn’t want to just sit in the car in silence, knowing that Jon was silently judging his music taste. Well, knowing Jon, he would tell Martin this to his face and order him to change it to something more...whatever it is that stuffy archivists listen too.
Martin heaved a sigh, knowing that no matter what happened, the irrefutable fact that he had a massive crush on Jon still remained.
Saturday, huh?
***
Saturday arrived quicker than Martin would have liked.
Did he take a bit too much time picking out an outfit instead of wearing his comfy weekend clothes? Yeah.
Did he try to style his hair in a new way only to get frustrated and do it how he always does? Yeah.
Did he just end up looking like he always did everyday at work with none of the special pizzazz he was hoping for in the end? ...Yeah.
Oh well.
Martin pulled up to the institute, seeing Jon sitting on the steps leading up to the front door, also looking exactly like he did everyday at work with his black slacks, and tweed blazer that Martin thought looked very nice on him, and dress shoes, with a very nice green jumper over a white button up that Martin also thought looked really great. Jon should wear more green and more tweed Martin nodded to himself. Although it would be interesting to see him change up the black slacks sometimes, maybe to brown...hmmm…
Martin was jolted out of his inner thoughts about Jon’s outfit to a slight tapping on the window.
“Martin, unlock the car door. It’s chilly out here.”
“Oh, yes! Sorry, Jon!” Martin hit the button, and Jon opened the door, sliding into the passenger seat and doing his seatbelt.
“R-Right, um, where too?” Martin asked and Jon radled off an address.
They drove in silence for basically the entire way there, just as Martin had feared. However, Jon didn’t say anything about his choice of music, instead choosing to stare out the window for the majority of the drive, head propped on his hand.
Martin broke the silence to ask Jon “Is the doctor's office in this complex of buildings?” too which Jon gave a distracted “mmhmm”.
Martin pulled into a space across the lot from the door, unsure how to proceed from here.
Did he go in with Jon and wait? Did he leave and come back? Did he sit in the parking lot and wait?
“Feel free to do whatever until I’m done. I’ll call you.” Jon told him bluntly, getting out of the car and closing the door before Martin could say anything, disappearing into the doctor's office.
I don’t think that was an invitation to come inside and wait in the waiting area.
Martin didn’t have anything else to do that day, and he didn’t want to drive too far since he didn’t know how long Jon’s appointment was going to be.
In the end he decided to wait in his car and play around on his phone.
***
It was an hour later when a “Mr. Sims!” had him snapping his head up from his phone and looking towards the doctor's office once more.
Jon was walking out the door and towards Martin's car, wearing cheap plastic sunglasses with very dark lenses. A nurse was following him, holding some papers in her hand, and trying to grab Jon by the arm.
“Mr. Sims, let me help you.” She tried to reason with him.
“I’m fine.” Jon snapped at her, and then nearly tripped over the curb.
“Mr. Sims, you're going to hurt yourself.” The nurse pleaded.
Martin got out of the car then, walking across the small parking lot over to the two.
“Jon? Is everything ok?” Martin asked.
“Yes, Martin.” Jon snapped, walking over towards him, but Martin could see the hesitation in Jon’s steps as if he couldn't completely see where he was going.
“Your Martin Blackwood?” The nurse asked with relief in her voice and on her face.
“Ah yes.” Martin responded, watching Jon slowly slink towards his car.
“Mr. Sims wrote on his check-in forms that you’d be his ride today,” She thrust Jon’s glasses case and some papers in Martin’s direction, “these are from the doctor, just some summaries of his appointment today.”
“Oh, um, ok.” Martin said, taking them.
“Also, his eyes were dilated today, so his vision will be blurry for the next several hours and he will need to keep those sunglasses on as his eyes are very sensitive to light at the moment.” She hesitated for a beat before continuing, “Mr. Sims already has very poor eyesight without correction, and due to the dilation he is unable to wear his corrective lenses.”
Martin gapped at her.
“So...his vision is already bad...and he got his eyes dilated...which makes your vision even more blurry...and he can’t wear his glasses because he has to protect his eyes from light?” Martin said slowly.
The nurse nodded.
Oh, gosh.
“I’ll make sure he’s ok.” Martin said, determined. He thanked the nurse before walking over to Jon, where he now stood in the middle of the parking lot, surveying the row of cars in front of him.
“Oh, you could've gotten into the car. It was unlocked.” Martin told him.
“I umm…” Jon mumbled, “can’t tell which car is yours.”
Oh. Right.
Martin looked down at Jon, the top of Jon’s head coming up to right below Martin’s shoulder.
“It’s this one over here,” Martin gently grabbed Jon’s arm and led him over to the car, which Jon surprisingly let him do. However, once they were at the correct vehicle, Jon batted Martin’s hand away and slipped into the passenger seat once more, buckling himself with some difficulty while Martin got into the driver's seat and started the car.
Martin glanced over at Jon, thinking about what to do next. The nurse had said it would take several hours for Jon’s eyes to no longer be dilated. He had to make sure Jon was ok when he couldn’t see very well at all.
“Um, thank you for taking me here today, Martin” Jon started with an uneasy thanks, breaking Martin from his thoughts, “you can drop me back at the Institute and I can take the tube home from there-”
“Lunch!” Martin shouted, interrupting Jon.
“I...what?” Jon asked, turning to Martin.
“I’m hungry, let’s go get some lunch, yeah? It’s already,” he looked at the clock, “almost 2:30pm!”
I gotta stall him until his vision starts to get better.
“I’m not hungry.” Jon countered.
“Well since I never see you take lunch breaks at work, I’m going to make sure you eat lunch today.” Martin told him.
Even through the sunglasses and the fact that Jon obviously wasn’t seeing things clearly at all, the glare he gave Martin was still extremely intense.
“Martin. Take me back to the Institute. Lunch will take much too long.”
Martin felt protective anger well up inside him. How did Jon expect to make it home when he had already almost tripped over a curb and couldn't tell which car had been Martin’s?
Honestly this man.
“Since I’m the one driving, I say we go get lunch.” Martin said, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Martin.” Jon said, voice pure ice.
Martin ignored him, turning back onto the main road, trying to think of a good lunch spot.
“Martin. I swear-” Jon started but then cringed back into his seat with a whimper of pain, hands going to cover his eyes, knocking the sunglasses askew, when the sun came through the windshield.
Shit.
Even though Jon could be an obnoxious prick, he had still wormed his way into Martin’s heart.
“Are you ok?” Martin asked gently, quickly turning the car in the opposite direction so the sun was at their backs.
He saw Jon peek through his fingers, before removing his hands and placing the sunglasses back on his nose.
“Y-yeah.” He said quietly.
“Jon, how are you planning on walking from the Institute, taking the tube, and then walking to your flat when you can barely see, as well as not being able to handle any sunlight?” Martin asked.
“I um...don’t know.” Jon said, deflating into his seat.
Even though this is the answer that Martin wanted, hearing Jon actually say it surprised him deeply.
“And...um...I am, by the way. Hungry, that is.” Jon mumbled.
Martin looked at him in shock.
“So...lunch?” Martin asked lamely.
“Lunch.” Jon said, a touch of sadness in his voice.
Martin began to drive them to a little cafe that he knew about that he thought Jon would like, while Jon slumped in his seat.
***
Martin pulled up into a parking spot as close to the front door as possible. Jon clambered clumsily from the car before Martin could offer his assistance, however he did let Martin put a hand on his shoulder to help guide him inside and to their table to avoid tripping over anything.
Upon sitting down, Jon immediately stated, “I'll just have what you're having”.
Martin flushed at this, “w-what?”
“I can’t read the menu, and I really don’t want you to have to read it to me, so just order me what you're having.”
“O-Oh, right!” Martin turned his attention to the menu, feeling a lot of pressure to order something good. He peeked up at Jon, who had drawn his legs up on his chair, hugging his knees to his chest, staring blurrily into the ether through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.
“Do you like pasta with pesto?” Martin inquired.
“I do.” Jon stated simply.
“Ok fantastic, it’s really good here.” Martin smiled.
The waiter came over and dropped off waters and took their orders, to which Martin ordered for the both of them.
Then they sat there in a relatively awkward silence.
Martin would make some poor attempt at conversation and Jon would give one word answers in response.
This is impossible.
Martin decided to start to babble on about work to fill the silence, since that seemed to be Jon’s favorite thing in the world, and started talking about one of recent statements that he was following up on and going into detail about how he was going about doing it.
“Martin.” Jon said, not unkindly, interrupting Martin’s monologue.
“Y-Yeah?” Martin said, suddenly afraid that Jon was going to tell him that everything he was saying about his job was wrong.
“You…” Jon hesitated, “you're not a...bad employee.”
Martin gapped at him.
“What?” was all Martin could get out.
Jon cringed slightly, obviously not used to this.
“Your work is...ok. The follow ups you do, I mean. You also stopped me from stupidly venturing through London on a Saturday afternoon when I can’t see well...so... thank you.” Jon hugged his knees tighter to himself, his eyes downcast, “I don’t like optometrist appointments, they always dilate my eyes, and I lose my independence for several hours…I hate it.”
Wait, WHAT?!
Martin was touched by this gesture, to say the least. In complete shock. But touched all the same.
“T-Thank you, Jon. And um, y-you're welcome,” Martin managed to get out, “sorry you hate going to the optometrist, but I’ll make sure you're ok today.”
Jon gave a slow nod.
Martin released a breath.
And then their food was getting placed in front of them, the waiter leaving them be with an “enjoy!”.
Martin and Jon ate in silence, however it was a much more comfortable silence. Jon’s incredibly blurry vision didn’t seem to be hindering his ability to eat at all, so when Martin looked up from his almost empty plate after a while to see that Jon was barely halfway done, he did a double take.
Oh no, does he not like it?
“Doing ok?” Martin asked, to which Jon furrowed his eyebrows at the question.
“Yes, why?”
“Do you not like the food? We can get something else if you want too.”
Now Jon looked incredibly confused.
“What makes you think I don’t like it?”
Now it was Martin’s turn to look confused.
“You’re not really...eating it?” Martin offered.
“O-oh, are you almost done?”
Martin could barely make out Jon’s eyes behind the dark lenses, but he saw him trying to squint down at Martin’s plate.
“I can try and eat faster, or get it to go if you want to leave.” Jon said, brandishing his fork and shoving a large bite of food into his mouth.
Martin thought back to their initial conversation from the car, when Jon had mentioned that lunch would take much too long…
Oh.
One thing Martin hadn’t been expecting, but he guessed it did make sense, was that Jon was a very slow eater.
This is oddly endearing information to find out. Dammit, he keeps getting cuter.
Martin was trying not to look at Jon with hearts in his eyes, but he was snapped out of it by Jon shoving another forkful of pasta into his mouth, looking vaguely disgusted at the speed in which he was eating and how much he was putting into his mouth at once.
“Hey, hey, slow down,” Martin soothed when Jon picked up his water, looking like he was about to gag, “we’re not in a rush. Take all the time you need, yeah?”
Jon gave him a dubious look.
“I can just get it to go.”
“Nonsense, finish it here while it’s fresh.” Martin said.
Jon gave him a slow nod, putting another, but much smaller forkful in his mouth.
Martin filled the space with idle chatter while Jon nodded along, continuing to eat slowly and starting to look a little tired.
After some time, Jon finished his dish, saying it was, truly, very good.
“I’m glad you liked it.” Martin smiled softly at him, picking up the bill from where the waiter, who was being very considerate of Jon’s snail paced eating and not rushing them, had dropped it off at their table a few minutes prior.
“Wait, let me pay. You're the one who drove me out here today.” Jon stuck his hand out for the bill.
“No, it’s my treat today.”
“Martin.”
“Fine, if you can tell me how much it is, and if it's accurate, then you can pay it.” Martin held out the bill in front of Jon’s face.
Jon squinted for several seconds.
“That's...that's not fair, Martin.” He grumbled.
Martin snorted a laugh, slipping his card into the little holder.
***
Martin kept a hand on Jon’s shoulder once more as they left the restaurant and walked over to Martin’s car. Jon winced in pain and tried to shield his eyes from the sun to the best of his ability. They slipped into their respective seats in the car once more, Martin starting the trek back.
“Is your vision clearing up at all?” Martin asked, gently.
“Barely, still blurrier than usual. And the sunlight still really hurts.” Jon said miserably.
Poor thing.
“How about you come back to my flat for a bit? To save yourself from stumbling around at yours.” Martin offered, voice careful.
Jon tensed beside him.
“That's uh, t-thats I mean...I...I guess so?” Jon said like it was a question.
“G-Great!” Martin said, trying not to blush.
A few minutes into the drive, Jon took off his blazer, put it over himself like a blanket, and slumped against the window.
“Driving when everything is blurry is making me nauseous, I’m going to close my eyes for a bit.” Jon said.
Ok, let me know if you need anything.” Martin said, worried.
Martin tried to drive as slowly and smoothly as he could, finally pulling into his flat's parking lot.
“We're here, Jon.” Martin said to get his attention, putting the car in park and turning it off.
Jon didn’t stir. Martin's heart melted.
Poor love fell asleep.
Martin put a hand on Jon’s shoulder.
“Jon?” he said, a little louder but still gentle.
Jon stirred, prying his eyes open, only to close them again with a pained wince at the sunlight.
“You ok?” Martin asked.
Jon gave a small nod, sitting up stiffly, gently rubbing his eyes.
“Needa get outta the sunlight.” Jon mumbled, clumsily unbuckling himself and stumbling out of the car.
“Jon, wait a moment!” Martin said in a panic, clamoring out of the car, grabbing the papers from the doctor and Jon’s glasses as he went.
Jon had already shakily begun walking up to the building, blazer wrapped around his shoulders, swaying slightly.
This...doesn't seem good.
Martin walked the few paces in took to catch up to Jon, grabbing his upper arm gently to stop him from walking any further.
“Are you ok?” Martin asked, “you don’t look very good.”
Martin’s eyes almost bugged out his head when Jon leaned into his side in response, looking on the verge of collapse, shivering in the chilly breeze.
“D-dizzy.” Jon mumbled feebly, and Martin wrapped an arm around Jon’s waist to keep him upright.
“Right, let's get you inside then.” Martin said, full caregiver mode activating.
He practically had to carry Jon up to his flat, sitting him gently on the couch when they got inside. Jon shivered, curling into himself against the throw pillows, eyes shut tightly behind his sunglasses.
What’s going on?!
Martin began to panic, looking at the papers in his hand for some kind of a number to call because this couldn't be normal, but then his eyes fell to the page about eye dilation, the words ‘patients may experience headaches, dizziness, eye irritation, and trouble sleeping’ catching his attention.
Oh.
So he was dizzy because of the eye dilation and cold because he was Jon.
Martin let out a sigh of relief.
He sat down next to Jon, putting his hand on his shoulder again like how he had been doing all day.
“Let’s get you into some comfy clothes, yeah? I can’t imagine that your work clothes are very comfortable to rest in.”
“These are my everyday clothes.” Jon mumbled.
Of course they were.
“Still, I think you’ll be more comfortable in some softer clothes.” Martin said.
At Jon’s hesitation he added, “and warmer!”
This sealed the deal.
Martin went into his bedroom and started rifling through his drawers before coming up with his warmest pair of sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a sweatshirt.
He presented his bundle to Jon, to which Jon took and went into the bathroom to change.
Martin had just finished getting out all of his throw blankets when Jon emerged unsteadily from the bathroom and Martin had to stop himself from cooing out loud.
Awwwww!
Martin could feel the hearts in his eyes again and the wide smile on his face as he looked at Jon bundled up in his way to big clothes.
Jon had rolled up the pant legs so he wouldn't trip. The sweatshirt was long on him, and the sleeves kept slipping over his hands, even after it looked like he had cuffed them several times. Even the socks looked too big on his feet. This look, along with the sunglasses still perched on his face, made for a very different looking Jon than what Martin was used to seeing at work.
Jon teetered over to the couch, immediately plopping down and covering himself with the throw blankets, curling into a tiny ball, and resting his head on one of the throw pillows.
“How are you feeling?” Martin asked gently.
“S-still dizzy.” Jon mumbled, barely audible.
“Do you need anything?” Martin inquired.
“Mm-mm.” Came the even softer reply.
Martin could already hear Jon’s breathing evening out into sleep.
What a day.
***
Several hours later found Martin sitting on one end of the couch with Jon still curled up on the other end. The telly was on, volume low.
A slight shifting from the other end of the couch had Martin glancing over at Jon.
He watched as Jon slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Jon looked around the room blearily, before pulling off the sunglasses and giving an experimental look at the telly. He gave a sigh of relief that Martin could only think meant that the dilation was wearing off.
“Are your eyes feeling better?” Martin asked and Jon startled slightly.
Jon turned his gaze on him, and without the dark lenses, Martin could now fully see his prominent and very adorable squint.
“Ah, yes, I think that my eyes aren’t so sensitive to light anymore, and my vision is returning to normal blurry.”
Martin smiled in relief, before holding out Jon’s glasses case towards him.
“I think you’ll want your glasses back, then.”
The look of relief on Jon’s face had Martin’s heart fluttering.
Jon took the case and opened it, slipping the frames back onto his face with a content sigh.
“I should be heading home.” Jon said suddenly, “thank you for today, Martin.”
Jon got to his feet, sweatshirt threatening to slip over his shoulder.
“Jon, it’s already 10:30pm.” Martin said and Jon froze.
“Wait, what!?” Jon said, eyes zeroing in on the clock in Martin’s living room.
“Yeah, you suddenly got really tired after lunch, and weren’t feeling very well at all,” Martin said, “I think your body sort of forced you into unconsciousness. You slept for hours.”
“Y-you could’ve woken me up. I didn’t mean to intrude in your home for this long.” Jon said, panic settling into his voice.
“You were hardly a bother, all you did was sleep.”
“But...your clothes.”
“Also not a problem.” Martin said soothingly.
“But-”
“Jon,” Martin cut him off, “honestly, it’s no worry. You should spend the night, it’s too late and too cold to be heading back, and I don’t mind, honestly I don’t.”
Well, too cold for Jon that is.
Jon stared at him.
“You also still don’t look 100% yet, you're still shaking a little bit.” Martin said and Jon looked down at himself like he hadn't realized.
“I’ll go make us some tea, yeah? Have a seat back on the couch and watch some telly now that you can see again.” Martin got up with a soft smile, giving Jon a gentle pat on the arm as he walked past him.
He felt Jon’s eyes on the back of his head until he disappeared into the kitchen.
Martin quickly made tea, afraid that Jon would try and escape if he took too long, and headed back to the living room with two mugs.
Jon had sat back down on the couch, knees drawn to his chest like they had been at the restaurant, two blankets wrapped around his shoulders, eyes tired, but trained on the telly.
Martin handed him a mug, which Jon accepted with appreciation.
Martin sat down next to him, a little closer than necessary but still far enough away to be respectful of his space.
After about 20 minutes, Martin felt a slight weight against his side and he looked down to see that Jon had fallen against him in sleep. Martin turned bright red, happy that no one was there to see him turn into a tomato.
Martin gently took the now empty mug from Jon’s lax hands, setting it down on the side table next to the couch. He then fixed the blankets around Jon’s small form, tucking him in snugly to ward off any unwanted chills.
Martin smiled fondly down at the man leaning into his side.
Saturday, huh?