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Forced Bonds, Forged Bonds

Summary:

Centuries ago there was Aphrodite, now called Martin Blackwood, the god of love. Martin spends his days creating bonds between people on Earth, too busy with the work he loves to find love for himself. When he is made aware that the sea god Peter Lukas wishes to take him as a consort, Martin has thirty days to find a husband or he will be forced into a relationship with Peter. He finds his husband- but is it really worth it in the end?

An Aphrodite and Hephaestus retelling

Notes:

Hello hello!

I am once again misusing my Classics degree to write jmart fanfiction. Things to know about me as a person: I love the god Hephaestus quite a lot because if no one else will love him I'm certainly going to do it. I'm also very very enamored with the Hades and Persephone myth and how that story has changed over time. It used to be that people believed Persephone was kidnapped and forced into marrying Hades but now people view it as a choice Persephone made and that change fascinates me. It was thinking about that change in perception and my favorite god that got me thinking: what if I did that for the Hephaestus and Aphrodite myth? What if Aphrodite actually loved Hephaestus, perhaps not at first but grew to love him? What if they're in love despite what everyone else on Olympus thinks Aphrodite deserves?

And now we're here!

I'm rewriting the entire mythology around Aphrodite and Hephaestus to make it so they've got a slowburn 'actually i think i do love you' romance going on. I've currently got three chapters of this done with plans to update every Wednesday (I know today is Thursday but I like doing my updates on Wednesdays for some reason) and I'm very excited to share this whole thing with y'all

Same rules as my last Greek mythology fic apply: there's no incest because I'm making up how the gods are created! Also I recognize that I'm throwing together all sorts of gods who are not actually together in mythology but like I said up top this is me misusing my degree for fun because I can. There are also the modern world elements and Olympus has a kinda city with surrounding suburbs vibe to it. I'm putting a full list of the gods for this fic in the end notes as well, just so you know who we're working with/what they're the gods of. Most of them are the same as last time but I had to make a few changes since I'm taking on new gods for this story.

That should be everything, I hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: The Declaration

Chapter Text

Martin Blackwood loved love.

 

This made sense, of course, since he was the god of love. Centuries ago he had been known by the people as Aphrodite and he had been at the center of myth and legend with the other gods of Olympus. Now he took the name Martin Blackwood as his own, pulling it from the Earth below and holding it close to him, treasuring the opportunity to name himself. All of the gods had taken new names as the years progressed, though he wasn’t certain that any held them as dearly as Martin held his. Perhaps it’s because he never resonated with the name Aphrodite or perhaps because it was him shedding the last remnants of his mother and truly becoming himself.

 

For all that Martin loved love, he didn’t necessarily covet it for himself. Don’t get him wrong, of course he wanted love for himself. That didn’t necessarily mean he was seeking any forms of relationship, though. He had friends, this was true, but spent most of his time taking care of the relationships of the people on Earth. It got to a point where he hadn’t seen any of his friends in well over a month but had been to seven weddings, three speed dating events, and one memorable college quiz bowl event spreading love wherever he went.

 

Knowing how reclusive he had become and knowing what he knew about the other gods, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him when he found Elias– formerly Zeus– on his doorstep the evening after the quiz bowl.

 

“Elias,” Martin greeted dryly, wanting nothing more than to slam the door in the king of the gods’ face. Judging by the look on his face, Elias knew this. “How can I help you?”

 

Elias gestured to the open door, clearly trying to invite himself in. Martin turned around, rolling his eyes, and gestured for Elias to follow him to his small kitchen table at the back of his home on Olympus. He sat across from Elias, silently trying to convey that he was tired and was hoping this would be as easy and painless as possible, two things that Elias wasn’t known for. Still, the king of the gods took the hint and started speaking. “I think you'll find, Martin, this visit is more about me helping you .”

 

He barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes again. “And what , exactly, do you mean by that , Elias?”

 

“You’ve been unwed for quite some time, Martin. In fact, you’ve had few relationships beyond friendships and even those have been sparse,” Elias stated matter of factly. Apprehension started to make its way up Martin’s spine as he waited for Elias to continue. “While there is no policy on Olympus stating that the Olympian gods must be married, it is… Unusual to find the god of love so detached from the world. Obviously no one is going to force you to marry–”

 

“But?” Martin asked, cutting Elias off before he could obfuscate anymore.

 

Elias, for his part, seemed almost regretful of his actions. “ But some of the gods have taken notice. One god in particular is looking to take you as a consort and I’m sorry to say that if you don’t have a proper excuse, you will be unable to turn him down.”

 

That caused Martin’s blood to turn cold. Consortship wasn’t uncommon on Olympus; while most of the Olympian gods hadn’t taken consorts, Martin knew many minor gods and nymphs who had taken consorts in their marriage. Sometimes it was a sexual thing, sometimes a more romantic thing, it varied from person to person. Polyamory was fairly common, though having multiple spouses often seemed like too much hassle when consortship was an option. Of all the gods on Olympus, Martin only knew of one group where all three were spouses rather than a married pair and a consort– Tim, Sasha, and Gerry, though Tim was always one to defy rules and expectations. Martin had never been interested in consortship for similar reasons that he had never taken a husband: he didn’t have time to form a relationship with someone. There were far too many people on Earth who he wished to help for him to take part in the games of consortship.

 

“And who, exactly, is trying to take me as a consort without discussing it with me first?” It was rare that Martin didn’t know about someone’s intentions to start a relationship but it did happen on occasion. He paid far less attention to the happenings on Olympus than he did on the world below so it made sense that this would escape his radar though it did trouble him that it involved him and he didn’t know.

 

“That would be my husband,” Elias said blandly, clearly trying and failing to fight off annoyance at the matter. “Peter has expressed interest in taking you as a consort in our marriage and I am inclined to allow this to happen should you not wed.”

 

There were many things that Martin could say about Peter Lukas. The god of the sea had an unusual fascination with Martin since they first met, saying something cryptic about how ‘lonely’ he seemed, as though the thought of Martin’s loneliness fascinated the other god. To put it bluntly, Martin thought Peter was a creep and wanted nothing to do with him. Every interaction they had left Martin feeling hollowed out and tired, discomfort laced through his entire body as Peter tried his best to get under Martin’s skin. The sea god was always cordial, a fake cheer in his voice that didn’t quite match everything Martin knew about his personality. If it had been anyone else thinking of taking Martin as a consort, he might have considered; it would be easier than finding a husband, after all, and Martin wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea of an arrangement if it meant the rest of Olympus would stop looking at him as if he didn’t understand his area of expertise simply because he was single. The fact that it was Peter…

 

Martin couldn’t allow that to happen.

 

“What if I enter another consortship?” Martin said, thinking through his list of somewhat distant friends. It had been ages since he had actually seen any of them, but he trusted them enough to know they would take him as a consort if that would keep him from Peter’s grasp.

 

Elias, however, shook his head. “I’m afraid that because Peter declared intentions first, you would have to be married to avoid his request.”

 

This frustrated Martin. “That’s a ridiculous rule, Elias, and you know it. You’re the king of the gods, for Olympus sake, are you really telling me you can’t tweak things a little bit? Or are you just that afraid of what your husband would do if you did?”

 

“I don’t want you to be his consort anymore than you do, Martin,” Elias spat, anger rising in each word. “He’s doing it just to anger me, you must be able to see that. Which means if I change the rules, he’ll just do something else to attempt to get his way. I may be king, but even I know when to engage with the games of my husband and when not to. So I suggest you either start searching for a spouse or start preparing to move out of this home and into ours because those are your only options. You have thirty days, Martin. I suggest you start doing something about this.” Elias stormed out after that, allowing Martin’s door to slam shut, almost rattling the small cottage Martin had called home all these years.

 

He looked around the kitchen and living space, thinking of all the ways he had changed this space to make it his own. His mother had been a water nymph, always jealous that she bore an Olympian through her marriage to a minor god. That minor god abandoned Olympus all together when the Olympian gods rose to prominence, leaving Martin with a bitter mother who saw him as a reminder of a godly life she could never possess for herself. The day she returned to the sea, fading into sea foam in the world below, was the happiest day of Martin’s life. He moved out of the house by the water they had lived in, seeking refuge in this cottage just far enough from Olympus proper that he felt safe. Knowing that his only options were to give up his home and become Peter’s lonely consort or to take a husband and beg him to let them stay in the cottage broke whatever was remaining of Martin’s fragile heart.

 

Not wanting to stay here, sinking in despair, he headed out of the cottage and into the city, hoping that there were still people who would open their doors to him.

 

It turns out he needn’t have worried; Melanie opened the door before he could even knock, pulling him into a tight hug that he hadn’t at all expected from the war goddess. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Blackwood. You’re lucky I haven’t kicked down the door to your cottage looking for you.”

 

Melanie King was Martin’s oldest friend on Olympus. People always thought it was strange how well love and war got along, though they never minded the hushed whispers that seemed to be counting down the days until their inevitable wedding. They weren’t in love, not like that, though. Rather Martin and Melanie loved each other in the way only best friends could– knowing each other's secrets and sometimes arguing but making up easily and without the collective trauma that was often seen in sibling relationships. It had been far too long since Martin had made his way over to Melanie’s home in the city, unsure if he would be welcome after slipping away into his work, but clearly he didn’t have to worry about that at all. After she released him from the hug she punched him in the arm before dragging him inside and forcing him onto the couch. “Georgie! Martin’s here!”

 

Georgie Barker had once been known as Hestia, goddess of the hearth. She represented home and comfort and connection in a way that people also thought was ill matched to the goddess of war, but Martin could see the strings pulling them together from miles away. They balanced each other out while also pulling each other out of their shells, their souls dancing together visibly to Martin, causing a pang of longing to spark in his chest. With Georgie was the Admiral, a truly fluffy little monster of a cat who jumped directly into Martin’s lap as Georgie made her way to the couch, giving Martin’s hand a squeeze before sitting down. “It’s been a while since we saw you, Martin. Had to keep this one from going to kick your door in on a few occasions.” 

 

There was something incredibly nice about how easily they slotted Martin back into their life when he showed up at their doorstep, casual touches and jokes like he had never disappeared to begin with. “I’m sorry about that. Work… Kind of got away from me,” Martin said sheepishly. It was more than just the work, he knew that, but he didn’t need to tell Melanie and Georgie that moments after arriving at their home out of nowhere. “I should’ve at least called to check in…”

 

Melanie, for her part, waved him off. “I appreciate the apology, Martin, but it’s unnecessary. We’ve been friends for long enough that I kind of have an idea how you get when something’s bothering you, knew you’d come here in your own time. Just had to be reminded of that by Georgie a few times.”

 

“You’re always welcome here, Martin, even if it’s been a while,” Georgie said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Now, is this just a quick catch up, or did something happen?”

 

“...Something happened,” Martin admitted, guilt rising in his chest as he realized he had only come to Melanie and Georgie because he needed help. Neither of them seemed angry by this, though he still felt the need to apologize again. “But we should catch up first and–”

 

Melanie threw a pillow at him, causing the Admiral to meow in protest before settling back on Martin’s lap. “I know what you’re doing, Martin. You do not need to feel guilty for seeking us out after something happened to you. Yes, it’s been a while since we talked and yes, I do wish you would’ve said something instead of burying yourself in your work but I get it, okay? And I’ve done the same to you, so don’t you dare apologize.”

 

She had done the same to him, on just as many occasions as he could remember doing this to her. Both of them preferred to deflect rather than talk about their feelings sometimes, something that they always implored the other not to do while not taking that advice for themselves. There was a comfort in knowing how well Melanie knew him, and he smiled gratefully at her after that. “Thank you, Melanie. Catch up talk after this, I promise.”

 

“Or else I’ll find you and kick your door in,” Melanie said with a grin. “So, what happened?”

 

“Elias happened,” Martin muttered darkly. “Or, I guess, Peter happened. Apparently he wants to take me as a consort and Elias is doing nothing to stop it.”

 

“You can be our consort,” Melanie said, no hesitation. Georgie nodded beside her, looking at Martin with clear pity in her eyes. “If Elias asks, we’ll tell him that we’ve been looking for a consort as we’re thinking of starting a family and obviously we asked you since, well, everything. Problem solved.”

 

Affection burst in Martin’s chest at his friends’ offer. They really did love him, he felt it in every breath he took in their home. And he loved them, ever so dearly, so much that he almost forgot why that wouldn’t actually work as a solution. Almost.

 

“Elias is essentially saying that I can’t enter another consortship because Peter has first dibs,” Martin explained sadly. “Why this man gets first dibs over my life , I don’t fully understand but Elias has made it clear that only marriage will stop this and I only have thirty days to find a spouse.” Martin could tell the moment the idea entered Melanie’s head, shaking his head to stop her before she could speak. “We’re both gay, Melanie. In opposite directions. Elias would certainly find some made up rule to not allow me to enter your marriage as a husband.”

 

Melanie grumbled a little at that, sulking in her seat. “So what, you’re just supposed to find a husband in thirty days? You, the god of love, are supposed to instantly fall in love with someone or be forced into a loveless scenario where you have to live with Peter and Elias? At least Georgie and I love you!”

 

The force of Melanie’s words hit Martin square in the chest like an arrow he could see coming. It wasn’t painful, though, it was, well, lovely. It was warm and bright and felt a bit like a hug, fondness settling in his bones as he blinked back tears. “I love you both too. So very much,” he choked out, the first tear making its way down his face. Melanie and Georgie both stood up, wrapping Martin in a tight hug. “You two were the only people I could think to turn to for this. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I… I don’t want to be Peter’s consort.”

 

“You’re not going to have to be his consort,” Georgie soothed, squeezing Martin tighter. “I promise. We’re going to figure something out, okay?”

 

“I’m not above killing Elias, you know,” Melanie grumbled, causing Martin to laugh. “Don’t worry about it, alright? We’ve got thirty days to figure something out.”

 

They laid there for a while, Georgie and Melanie on either side of him, holding him close, while the Admiral purred steadily in Martin’s lap. Every now and then someone would speak up with an idea or with something Martin had missed in the time he was away. How Martin stayed away from friends like this for so long, he couldn’t tell you. It just felt easier, after the strain of everything, to fade to the background and work with those on Earth rather than risk being seen by people he didn’t want to on Olympus. But he let the people he did want to see slip away far too much. He couldn’t do that, not again.

 

“Martin!” Georgie said suddenly, pulling back from the cuddle pile and looking almost excited. “I have an idea!”

 

“We figured as much, love,” Melanie said with a snort, but she still looked fondly at Georgie. “Care to share with the class?”

 

Georgie walked away for a second, looking through drawers for something. Eventually she came back with a small scroll, Elias’s sigil on the side. She unfurled it, clearing her throat. “On the evening of the twenty-first day of the first month of summer, Olympus will be holding its annual solstice party.”

 

“‘Twenty-first day of the first month of summer’ the man took the name Elias but still doesn’t know what June is?” Melanie muttered. 

 

“I’m not sure I’m following, Georgie. What’s so important about the solstice party?” 

 

Georgie brandished the scroll again. “All of Olympus will be in attendance!”

 

“So?” Martin asked, still lost.

 

So you’re going to go to the party with us. We’re going to find you a husband.”

Chapter 2: The Solstice Party

Notes:

In a turn of events from my previous fics, Peter is going to be the absolute worst this time. Elias is going to be annoying but mostly okay.

Also this is a little late because I was shoveling I'm sorry

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

As Martin stepped into the packed courtyard where the Solstice party was being held, he remembered why he always skipped the event.

 

It wasn’t that Martin didn’t like the other Olympians or anything like that– well, he liked most of them at least. No, it was more so that Martin didn’t do well with crowds. At least, not crowds of people who knew him. He was used to moving through crowds on Earth, unseen and barely present at all, playing matchmaker to the humans down below. They didn’t know him, didn’t need to know him, would never know him, and that helped. He wasn’t there, not to the people on Earth, but he was there to the Olympians and the other gods and nymphs and creatures that were at the party. Martin had no choice but to be present on Olympus, something he never quite enjoyed.

 

At least he had Melanie and Georgie with him, both of whom were scouting out potential husbands for Martin. Between the noise and the distinct feeling he was being watched, Martin almost forgot about the real reason he was here. He needed to find someone to marry and quickly or else he would be stuck with Peter for eternity.

 

Damn Elias and his stupid rules.

 

“We’ll find someone, Martin,” Georgie soothed, rubbing Martin’s arm gently. “The party’s only just begun, I’m sure someone will ask you to dance or–”

 

“Martin!” a voice that was decidedly not a suitor called. Martin turned around to see Tim approaching quickly, Sasha and Gerry in tow. He wrapped his arms around Martin, hugging him tightly like he was afraid Martin would disappear if Tim let him go. “I haven’t seen you in ages , how are you?”

 

Any thoughts about lying to Tim slipped from his brain as quickly as they entered. After Melanie, Tim was the person he had known the longest. He remembered the day he saw the coils of love surrounding Tim, Sasha, and Gerry– visible only to Martin, a gift of his godhood– only to have Tim confess his attraction to the two other gods to Martin later that evening. It took everything in Martin to stop himself from telling Tim what he saw in their future. When the trio got together a few weeks later it felt like a victory, even if it was fated. Knowing all this about Tim colored Martin’s perception of the situation; he couldn’t lie to Tim. He could barely lie to Tim about Tim’s own love life all those years ago. “I need to find a husband,” Martin said finally. “Or I’ll be forced into a consortship with Peter.”

 

“What if you became our consort?” Tim asked immediately. Affection swelled in Martin’s chest just as it did yesterday when Melanie offered. Tim, not knowing this, powered on. “I mean, Sash, Gerry, and I already love you and we wouldn’t even make you leave the cottage! Or, if you wanted, we could move the cottage out behind our house so you would still be close by and–”

 

Sasha grabbed Tim’s hand at that point, rolling her eyes when she met Martin’s gaze but still looking overwhelmingly fond. “Breathe, love, and then let the man speak because I imagine he’s already thought of something like this if the way Georgie and Melanie are looking at us says anything.”

 

Tim looked at Martin sheepishly but Martin didn’t mind the man’s rambling at all; if anything, it made Martin feel incredible to know how much his friends cared about him. Still, despite Tim’s enthusiasm it wouldn’t work and Martin needed to explain that. “According to Elias and his archaic rules, Peter has first dibs on me being a consort unless I find an actual spouse. Why this man gets dibs on my life, I don’t fully understand, but I have about three weeks now to find a husband or I’ll have to be Peter’s consort.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Gerry said, a touch too loudly for Martin’s liking as many eyes started to turn towards their group. Sensing Martin’s discomfort, Gerry ushered everyone over to a more secluded corner of the courtyard. “Why does Elias get to dictate your life like this? And why isn’t he trying to stop you from becoming Peter’s consort anyway? You would think the man would be more upset with his husband taking a consort since it’s clearly not a mutual thing.”

 

Martin shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. He seemed frustrated by it all when he came to see me yesterday but he’s still acting like he doesn’t have the power to stop all of this.”

 

“So we need to find you a husband,” Sasha said, looking around the crowd of people behind them. “Well, there is certainly an abundance of choice here. Perhaps we divide and conquer, try to find people who are nice and single and then bring them back to Martin to see if they click?”

 

It was as good a plan as any so Martin agreed. He didn’t have the time or energy to be picky at this point and if the relationship fizzled out later, well, that was a bridge he could cross then. Anything to stop him from becoming Peter’s consort in the next few weeks would be fine.

 

As his friends set out on their mission, Martin suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. Between the people and the way his future was crumbling before him, he could hardly breathe let alone try and find a suitable partner. The lights pulsed in his vision and he found himself growing faint, wishing he hadn’t agreed to split up with the others. He tried to make his way into the party, hoping to find Tim or Melanie or anyone, really, who could help him but his legs felt like lead and it took everything in his power not to fall apart as people began to bump into him.

 

“Do you need a hand?” a voice, unfamiliar, asked from Martin’s left. He tried to turn towards the voice but found himself rooted in the spot, breaking down in more ways than one. It wasn’t until he felt a rough hand on his arm that he was able to move again, allowing himself to be guided over to a bench and sat down. “You’re alright,” the voice soothed, rubbing Martin’s arm with that same rough hand. “Breathe for me, in and out. You’re alright. I’m going to find your friends, okay? Just breathe, you’re going to be okay.”

 

He wanted to tell the stranger to stay– was practically ready to beg for it– when they left and Martin was alone once more. Their voice rung in his ears as he forced himself to breathe, watching as the world faded back into view just before Peter saw him.

 

And then it was like he couldn’t breathe again.

 

“There you are, Martin, I’ve been looking everywhere for–”

 

“Ah, Martin!” another voice, more friendly than Peter’s but still not one Martin wanted to hear. Elias stood directly in front of his husband, taking Martin’s arm. “I wanted to discuss our conversation from yesterday a touch more, would you care to join me?”

 

He wouldn’t, but when the option was Elias or Peter, Martin was going to choose Elias. He nodded shakily, allowing the king of the gods to drag him into the fray, glaring at Peter as he passed. “I’m working on it, Elias, I swear–”

 

Elias scoffed, but not unkindly. In fact, it might be the first kind sound that Martin had ever heard from Elias. “I’m not actually here to grill you about finding a spouse, Martin. You seemed uncomfortable and, well, it wasn’t like my husband was going to make that any better.”

 

“You came… to rescue me?” It wasn’t what he expected from Elias, but Martin was oddly touched. Well, he was until he remembered that Elias was still forcing him to marry or be stuck in a consortship with a man Elias knew made Martin uncomfortable. A mixed bag of emotions, really, made all the more confusing when Elias nodded, looking uncomfortable himself. “Well… Thank you, I suppose.”

 

“You can thank me by finding a suitable spouse,” Elias said, all business once more. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it? You don’t usually attend these events so one could assume that you’ve shown up looking for a partner.”

 

Martin nodded, still overwhelmed, looking around for his friends. “My friends are helping me look, it’s… Well, there are a lot of people here. I’m certain I can find someone more suitable than your husband.”

 

“I shall also aid you in this endeavor, just keep that knowledge away from Peter,” Elias said suddenly. This was not the turn that Martin expected this evening to take. “He’s already being insufferable about the whole thing, Olympus forbid he know that I’m actually attempting to help you.”

 

Anger flared in Martin’s chest. “You could just tell him he can’t take me as a consort, you know. Must I bring up the whole ‘king of the gods’ thing again?”

 

Instead of lashing out as he did yesterday, Elias just sighed. “Be honest with me, Martin, do you really think me changing any rules would stop him? Say I told him he couldn’t take you as a consort, or that you were already someone else’s consort, do you truly believe he would leave you alone?” As much as he hated to admit it, Elias had a point. “At least with an actual spouse he would have no role that he could try to thrust you into. I’m sorry that it’s like this, Martin, I truly am, but this is for your benefit.”

 

There was really nothing to say to that, but Martin was glad he knew it. It was a side of Elias he hadn’t seen before, something more real than Elias usually held himself as in the public eye. And though it frustrated him to no end, at least he had a better understanding now, both of the situation and of Elias. Don’t get him wrong, he still hated the god, but at least he could see that Elias was truly trying to help in his own slightly twisted way.

 

Much to Martin’s surprise, Elias stayed with him after that confession, pointing out various gods and other folks on Olympus who were single and could make for a somewhat decent spouse. They bumped into Gerry at one point, who looked at them with wide eyes, raising an eyebrow at Martin as if to ask ‘do you need assistance?’ to which Martin just shrugged. Gerry had nothing else to report, though he did stay with Martin and Elias for a while, looking at Elias with distrust as he spoke of various single people on Olympus. Eventually, upon seeing that Martin was in no immediate danger, Gerry wandered off again leaving Martin alone with Elias and the crowd of people around them.

 

It felt like they had been walking around the party for ages when Martin’s eye finally caught on someone he hadn’t ever seen before. They were short with tanned skin and long, black hair that seemed to be streaked with silver. Not to put too fine a point on it, but they were stunning, at least in Martin’s eyes. 

 

“And who exactly has caught your eye, hmm?” Elias asked, noticing the moment that Martin saw the stranger. “Certainly not my nephew.”

 

“Your nephew?” Martin asked, looking back at Elias who simply smiled. 

 

“Jon!” Elias called across the courtyard to the stranger Martin had seen. This stranger– Jon, apparently– made his way over to Elias and Martin, looking slightly put out upon seeing Elias. “I didn’t expect to see you here, dear nephew. You rarely make an appearance at any of the festivities on Olympus.”

 

A scowl seemed to grow more intensely on Jon’s face with each word spoken by Elias. “I was looking for you, actually,” he said, a low voice that was startlingly familiar to Martin even though he knew he had never seen the man before. “Honestly don’t know how you stand these parties, Elias, I can hardly breathe in here.”

 

“Ah, well, some of us thrive in society, Jonathan,” Elias said, almost placatingly. “Before we get to whatever it is you needed, allow me to introduce you to Martin, god of love.”

 

Jon looked at Martin passively. “ Wonderful to meet you,” he said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “Now, to the matter at hand, Elias–”

 

“Is that anyway to treat someone you’ve just met?” Elias said coyly. There was something in his eyes that Martin didn’t like, especially as he saw Elias looking between Martin and Jon. 

 

It seemed Jon had caught whatever look Elias was giving them as he sighed, turning to Martin and looking at him with more purpose now. “My apologies, Martin. It is nice to meet you, I hope you’re okay after what happened earlier.”

 

“Earlier?” Martin asked, not quite sure what Jon could’ve met. He shook his head, not wanting to appear rude. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Jon. And I’m certain you meant no disrespect, it’s clear you have serious business with Elias. I should be taking my leave anyway.”

 

He was about to go when Elias caught his arm. “Stay a moment, please, Martin. I want to run something by you after Jon has spoken his piece.”

 

Jon looked distrustingly at his uncle, eyes flickering over to Martin with suspicion in them. “It’s about your request for new lightning bolts. I’m forging as fast as I can, but it’s, well… It’s truly ludicrous for you to think that I can make this many in such a short amount of time, Elias! For someone who stresses the importance of sleep to me so often, you would think you would give me smaller work orders.”

 

And then it clicked.

 

Martin had known there was a god of fire and the forge living on Olympus. He used to go by the name Hephaestus, though Martin hadn’t known what name he had taken as the centuries wound on. Hephaestus had always been a bit of a recluse, though no one on Olympus knew why. Looking at Jon now, he could see the scars and burns that must’ve come from working the forge day and night, the skin rough and pockmarked. As if noticing Martin’s staring, Jon rubbed his arms self consciously, drawing Martin’s attention back into the present where Jon was continuing to plead his case. “I understand your need for the bolts, truly I do, but I’m drowning in the work which you expressly told me not to do.”

 

It seemed that whatever idea had been growing in Elias’s mind had finally reached full formation as he smiled at Jon, eyes shining with mischievous energy. “You’re completely right, Jon.”

 

“I am?” Jon asked warily, shooting another glance at Martin. 

 

“You are,” Elias said easily. “In fact, it’s imperative that your workload is reduced, especially for the time being. The bolts can wait, I assure you.”

 

Jon clearly knew to trust Elias as much as Martin did which is to say not at all. “What’s the catch, Elias?” Jon asked with a sigh. “Because frankly I know you and I’m exhausted so please, just get it over with.”

 

“You do know me rather well, don’t you, nephew?” Elias said, suddenly shoving Jon into Martin’s side. Martin caught him easily enough, feeling Jon’s rough skin for a moment before the other god recoiled away. “You can hold off on the bolts until after your wedding.”

 

“Wedding?” Martin and Jon asked at the same time. Elias’s looks suddenly made much more sense and Martin felt himself blanching. “Elias you can’t–”

 

Elias waved him off. “It’s the perfect solution, Martin! Jon would need to be married soon anyway, who better suited to bring some love to his life than the god of love?”

 

Martin expected protestation from Jon, expected him to chew Elias out, to get angry at his uncle playing games with his life, but Jon just looked resigned. He had said he was exhausted before and Martin could see it clearly written in the lines of his face; Jon needed to rest and knew that the best way to get that rest would be to listen to what Elias was saying and play along. “There’s no point fighting it,” Jon murmured to Martin. “He’s been trying to set me up with someone for years now, at least you seem kinder than the last match he attempted.”

 

Any questions Martin could’ve asked about that were immediately shut down by Jon nodding to his uncle. “Fine. No additional work on the bolts until at least three weeks after the wedding.” 

 

“Jon, you really don’t–” Martin started, only stopping when he saw Peter approaching. He barely refrained from flinching when the sea god placed a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Hello, Peter.”

 

“And how is my future consort doing?” Peter whispered in his ear, causing a nervous shiver to race down Martin’s back. “You’ve been so hard to find all night, it’s like my husband was hiding you from me on purpose.”

 

Martin could tell Jon heard all of that if the way the forge god’s eyes widened was anything to go by. He could see Jon doing some mental calculations, piecing together the story that Martin would rather not have told again. Jon’s mouth was set in a hard line as the truth seemed to crash into him. “If you could please take your hands off of my fiance, Peter, it would be greatly appreciated.”

 

Peter released Martin, turning quickly to look at Jon. “Your fiance?” 

 

Jon nodded firmly. “Yes. He just accepted my proposal, actually. We’re to be married in two weeks’ time.” There was a confidence in Jon's words that didn’t seem reflected in the small man’s appearance. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” Jon took Martin’s hand in his, dragging him away, not stopping until they were far away from the party. “Are you alright?”

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Martin said, confusion and nervousness bleeding into anger as he spoke. “I could’ve taken care of it myself.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m certain you could’ve argued against Elias on your own, something you almost certainly did to no avail. It’s fine, Martin. A wedding is hardly anything to fuss about.”

 

Anger continued to solidify in Martin’s chest. “As the god of love, I find a wedding to be quite the thing to fuss over,” he said testily. Jon looked taken aback by this and Martin tried to calm himself down. After all, Jon was doing him quite the favor. “Look, I… Thank you. For what you did back there. But please, don’t feel the need to marry me. I… I’m sure I can work something out with Elias in the end, no need to drag yourself into this.”

 

He expected a relieved sigh. He expected an ‘Oh, good, thank you’. He expected for Jon to be grateful to escape the mess that had become Martin’s life over the past week. Instead of any of that, though, Jon just shook his head. “I said I would marry you, Martin. I’m following through on my word.”

 

“But–”

 

“I’m going back to the forge,” Jon said, gesturing towards the city. “Elias will certainly call us in soon to talk about wedding details, but… We’re going through with this, for both our sake.” Martin didn’t even get a chance to question that before Jon was walking away, leaving Martin on his own outside the party. 

 

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there before the others came up to him, looking at him nervously. “We ran into Elias,” Tim said. It sounded like he was trying hard not to grit his teeth. “He said you’d have some news for us.”

 

“I’m engaged,” Martin said hollowly, still looking down the road that Jon had left down however long ago. His friends’ exclamations of excitement and worries went unheard as Martin disappeared into his own mind, wondering what on Olympus he had gotten himself into.

Notes:

Next update next Wednesday! I'm about halfway through writing this right now and will probably move to twice a week updates when I finish but we'll see how it goes. I'm VERY excited about getting this all out to y'all and I can't wait for you to read the chapters I've been working on <3

Chapter 3: A Marriage of Convenience

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It was raining when Elias finally called Martin to his home to discuss the wedding plans; it felt fitting somehow that Martin would get drenched on his way to discuss what was truly the most ridiculous of arranged marriages. Elias surprised Martin once again by offering to take care of all of the actual planning involved with the wedding. 

 

“It’s easier this way, isn’t it?” Elias asked, jotting down something in a notebook before returning his attention to Martin. “Unless you truly wanted to be involved in the planning, but for a wedding a large as this–”

 

“Large?” Martin felt his heart skip a beat. He assumed this would be a small thing, just his friends and Jon’s friends. It wasn’t as if this was of any personal importance to anyone on Olympus; it was barely of personal importance to Martin and Jon.

 

Of course, Elias didn’t seem to understand that. “Of course it will be a large wedding, Martin. You think Peter is going to acquiesce without some form of spectacle? Besides, you’re the god of love and you’re finally marrying. Olympus is already buzzing with the information, everyone is invested in seeing how this plays out for you.”

 

Martin balked at the idea that people were suddenly invested in his life when they had never been before. Most of Olympus hardly knew Martin by name , only thinking of him by moniker or by Aphrodite, a name he hadn’t gone by in centuries. But now, upon his forced marriage, people suddenly cared? It was all too much for Martin and he felt panic rising in his chest again, just like it had at the party. He managed to control his breathing– the faintest memory of the stranger’s voice ringing in his head as he tried to breathe– before Elias could notice how much he was crumbling under the pressure. “I… Perhaps it would be for the best if you took care of planning then. Is there anything in particular you would need me to do?”

 

“Just find a suit,” Elias said, looking back down at his notes. “Or dress or what have you. Something to wear. Everything else will be sorted out for you.”

 

A suit. Martin could do that. That was a simple task that he most certainly could get done. He left Elias’s office after that, heart still thumping a touch too quickly in his chest as he thought of all the ways his world had crashed down around him over the course of the past month.

 

As his thoughts swirled darkly around him, Martin found himself walking to Tim, Sasha, and Gerry’s house. The trio lived not all that far from the manor Elias and Peter called home, making it the perfect place to go after talking to Elias; he just hoped someone would be home as he knocked on the door. Thankfully Tim was there, greeting Martin with a smile and a hug before ushering him out of the rain and into his home.

 

It had been some time since he had last been in Tim’s house. There were more pictures on the walls than he remembered, candid shots of the trio from all over Olympus. The walls were now a light blue instead of the red they had been when Martin was last here, though Tim’s neon sign still remained. 

 

Even with the changes, it still felt homey and inviting to Martin.

 

He was led over to the couch, barely sitting down before Cerberus– the most adorable little corgi– jumped up onto Martin’s lap. “So what brings you to the home of the sun, the dead, and the post, Martin?” Tim asked as he flopped onto the couch. 

 

“Sasha will kill you if she finds out you’re reducing all of her roles down to ‘the post’, Tim,” Martin said, feeling remarkably better as Tim grinned at him. His heart was beating at a normal pace now and the anxiety that had flooded him before was loosening its grip. “Just had a meeting with Elias about my wedding.”

 

“That bad, huh?” This was something Martin had always appreciated about Tim: he always let Martin speak his piece first before trying to offer any advice. Tim, despite all of his other impulsive ways, always tried to make sure to give Martin space to think and reflect before offering his own opinions, something Martin valued greatly.

 

Martin ran his hand through Cerberus’s fur, trying to figure out the best way to explain it all. “Did you know that people on Olympus apparently care about my wedding?” seemed like the best place to start. Tim gestured to himself and the photos around the wall, clearly trying to indicate ‘Yeah, of course people care, Martin’, but Martin just shook his head. “I mean besides my friends. Apparently it’s a big story that I’m finally getting married after being single for so long. Elias is making a real spectacle out of it all. Said he’d plan everything himself since it’s a much bigger undertaking than I originally thought it was going to be.”

 

In Martin’s dreams– because of course he had dreams about his wedding, he was the god of love after all– his wedding had always been a small, intimate affair. Just his close friends and the close friends of his husband. It was always outside in his dreams, in the garden behind his cottage beneath the cherry blossom tree he had planted there to write poetry under when the weather was nice. Everyone would bring a dish to share for the party and it would end with everyone crowded in his cottage, making the place feel bright and happy and full of love.

 

Of course, this was just a dream. Not something that Martin could ever hold in his hands.

 

“Is there anything you need to do for the wedding, then?” Tim asked, still skirting around the larger issue at play which Martin was thankful for. They would get there eventually, but Tim was clearly waiting for Martin to bring it up instead of prying. 

 

“Need to find a suit,” Martin murmured, focusing his attention back on Cerberus as the sound of the door opening caused the little dog’s ears to perk up. With three heads, it was many ears perking up and it always made Martin smile a little bit to see it. The dog launched himself off of Martin’s lap to run up to Sasha and Gerry who had just made their way back home. “Hello.”

 

Sasha was helping Gerry out of his rain jacket when she spotted him. “Martin! Good to see you! Are you here with wedding details?” Her tone was teasing, though her face softened some upon seeing Martin’s reaction. “Oh, Martin, what happened?”

 

Martin couldn't quite find his voice so Tim spoke up for him. “Big wedding because apparently people care about Marto being married after so long,” Tim explained while Gerry helped Sasha out of her rain jacket. “Elias is planning. Need to find Martin a suit.”

 

“I can make a suit,” Gerry offered before heading to the kitchen and clicking the kettle on. “Do you have colors or patterns in mind, Martin?”

 

Martin thought back to his many wedding dreams and the floral embroidery on that suit. Wearing it for this big spectacle of a wedding felt wrong, even if it was the only wedding Martin was ever going to get. “Something simple, I think. There needs to be at least something simple about this whole affair.”

 

Sasha stood behind Martin, rubbing his shoulders lightly. “Whatever you need, Martin, we’re here for you.”

 

Gerry came back with four mugs of tea precariously held in his hands. He passed them around, giving Martin’s first, before sitting down on the couch next to Tim. “Honestly, whatever you need, Martin. I know how… Intense all of this can be, so if you need anything, please, let us know.” 

 

As much as Gerry loved Sasha and Tim, Martin remembered how stressed he was about the wedding. He wasn’t used to spending much time on Olympus at all before their marriage, nor was he used to any bit of attention from the other Olympians. If there was ever someone who truly did understand how Martin was feeling in that moment, it was Gerry. He smiled gratefully at the god of death who smiled back. 

 

“Do any of you know anything about Jon?” Martin asked finally. The question had been buzzing around his head since he met the man, not wanting to ask his betrothed ‘Hey, so what’s your whole deal?’ when the man had so easily agreed to marry him. He considered asking Elias, though knowing the king of the gods the answers would’ve been cryptic or just telling Martin to ask Jon himself; since Martin didn’t even know where Jon lived , the latter was a bit difficult to do.

 

“He’s… always polite if I have deliveries for him,” Sasha started, coming around to join the others on the couch. “Seems stressed most of the time, if I’m being honest, but doesn’t like it if you pry. Keeps to himself, don’t think I’ve ever seen him when not on a delivery.”

 

Tim and Gerry simply shrugged. “He’s never visited the Underworld before.”

 

“And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in any of my usual spots on Olympus,” Tim continued, rubbing his chin as he thought. “Honestly, I don’t even think I know where the forge is. Sash?”

 

Sasha pulled out her phone, scrolling for a while before coming up with an answer. “He’s… He’s not far from the cottage, actually, Martin. Close enough that you could probably move your home to be by the forge. I don’t know how I never noticed that before.”

 

At the very least, this at least meant Martin probably wouldn’t have to give up the only home he had ever known. He tried to take comfort in that but felt it ringing hollowly in his chest instead. “I guess I should probably go and talk to him before the wedding, shouldn’t I?” Martin mused aloud, watching as his friends nodded in agreement, offering a few topics of conversation he could have with Jon that were their upcoming wedding. 

 

In the end, Martin didn’t go see Jon before the wedding. 

 

He didn’t have much to do– just his normal work and answering a few calls from Elias about colors and flowers– but the thought of seeking Jon out made the entire event feel too real. Instead, Martin dove more forcefully into his work, blocking out the entire world until the wedding crept up on him.

 

The event was taking place in the ballroom Elias and Peter had in their home for some reason; not what Martin would’ve chosen for himself but he didn’t have the energy to be picky anymore. Gerry kept his word, making him a simple, dark blue suit. He tried it on the night before the wedding, feeling the reality of what was happening the next morning start to set in. Elias insisted that Martin stay at the manor that night, assuring him he would be kept far away from Peter. “It’s just easier logistically, Martin. Can’t have you late for your own wedding after all.”

 

Part of Martin wanted to ask if Jon would also be staying at the manor, but decided against it. Perhaps if he pretended that nothing out of the ordinary was happening, the wedding wouldn’t come. But it did, of course it did, because Martin’s life was not a dream, nor a nightmare, it was a life. A life being lived even if the actions in that life didn’t always feel like his own.

 

Getting dressed for the wedding almost felt like getting dressed for battle. The suit Gerry made was stunning, but it didn’t feel right on his skin; it wasn’t what he should be wearing for what should be the happiest day of his life. Everything felt wrong, like all the love on Olympus had been drained away in an instant, leaving Martin hollow and without need. It wasn’t the case, of course it wasn’t, Martin could still feel the beats of his friends’ hearts, could still feel the pull of their love for him and their love for their respective partners. The love was there, it was all around Martin.

 

It just wasn’t in him.

 

But that hardly mattered in the end, this was a means to an end. This was to keep Peter off his back and to appease Elias’s demands– even if they were demands made in Martin’s interest. Peter wouldn’t back off, not unless Martin ‘belonged’ to someone else. He just wished it could be someone else who actually loved him.

 

Elias’s knock at the door sounded more like a death knell in Martin’s ears. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time, any dream of flower crowns and embroidered suits finally fading away as he accepted his fate and made his way to the door. 

 

“Are you ready?” 

 

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

Elias escorted him to the entrance to the ballroom. Peeking through the crack in the door, Martin could see dozens upon dozens of people, all gathered on either side of the aisle to witness Martin’s sham of a marriage. He almost laughed at the thought; humans always thought they knew what the marriages between the gods were like, little did they know it was the god of love himself who was the only one in a sham marriage. A marriage of convenience that wasn’t even all that convenient. 

 

“You’ll walk down on my signal, alright?” Elias asked, snapping Martin back into the present. Elias was officiating the wedding, would leave Martin here by the door only to beckon him in in a few moments time. “It’s what needs to be done, Martin.”

 

Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded, watching as Elias went around to enter through the door closer to the altar, eventually giving a small wave that indicated to Martin it was his time to walk down the aisle. 

 

Hundreds of eyes focused on Martin as he entered the ballroom, staring blankly ahead at the altar Elias had set up for the wedding. He barely noticed Jon standing there at all, only briefly taking in the plain grey suit the man was wearing as Martin finally approached the altar. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his friends, sitting right up front, giving him bright smiles or thumbs ups in attempts to calm his nerves. It almost worked. Almost.

 

“Welcome, residents of Olympus! We are gathered on the seventh day of the second month of summer–” Martin saw Melanie mouthing ‘July’ out of the corner of his eye and cracked the smallest of smiles. “To join these two gods in the eternal bonds of marriage.”

 

Martin didn’t envy the hundreds of people who were also here, having to listen as Elias talked on and on about the traditional values of marriage in ancient Greece and how things have changed. Why he was doing this, Martin honestly couldn’t tell you, but he barely wanted to be there and this was his wedding; he couldn’t imagine having chosen to come to this event of his own free will. 

 

As Elias continued to drone on and on, Martin found himself looking at Jon. His hair was braided, quite intricately in fact. He wondered if Jon had done that himself or if he had help getting his hair to look so beautiful. This close to Jon, he could see the rich brown of his eyes, tinged with the slightest bit of green around the pupil. Part of him wanted to ask about that, but now certainly wasn’t the time. The scars and bruises that Martin had noticed on his arm at the Solstice party seemed to extend all the way up to his face, pockmarked flesh that didn’t detract from Jon’s beauty in any way but were noticeable now that Martin was so close to him.

 

“I now invite these gods to share rings with each other, symbolizing their never ending bond,” Elias said finally. Martin reached into his pocket to pull out the ring Elias had given him for the ceremony. It was gold with an emerald on the top, a touch larger than Martin thought was truly practical. He held it out to Jon, allowing him to look at it for a moment before taking his hand and sliding it onto his finger.

 

The ring in Jon’s hand was also gold, with what Martin thought to be a ruby on top, again a touch too large for practicality. Any thoughts of the ring faded away as Martin saw Jon’s hand, though. It was scarred all over, rough skin that looked like it had healed but could never return to what it had been before. It wrapped up his forearm as well, causing Martin to wonder how he had failed to notice the damage to the man’s hand before. He found himself gasping ever so slightly, not loud enough for the crowd to hear but judging by the way Jon’s eyes widened– ever so slightly– he had heard and he knew what Martin was gasping at. Still, Jon slid the ring onto Martin’s finger, letting go of his hand the instant he was done with the motion. 

 

“By the power of Olympus, I now pronounce Jon and Martin binded in marriage. You may now kiss.”

 

The kiss was brief– the gentlest peck against Martin’s lips before Jon was pulling away, looking anywhere but at Martin as they made their way through the crowd and out of the ballroom. Martin almost wished the kiss had been longer, almost wished it meant something more than binding his life to that of a man he had barely met, but wishes would get him nowhere in this situation. He was marrying Jon to avoid Peter and Jon was marrying him to avoid angering Elias. That was all.

 

The rest of the party passed by in a blur. He hardly saw Jon throughout it all, being pulled in all directions by various people asking him about the wedding and offering well wishes. The benefit of the crowd meant he didn’t see Peter at all either, so Martin was hesitantly counting it as a win even if he just wished everyone would go away.

 

Eventually Martin was reunited with Jon and allowed to go home. Well, to Jon’s home at least. He wasn’t sure why he agreed to move in with Jon, wasn’t sure why he offered to have his space brought closer to the forge so their homes could be combined in the future. Perhaps it was so Elias would stop pestering him or perhaps it was his one bit of good will to the man who offered his life for Martin without thinking. Martin tried his best not to think too much about it, just follow Jon as they made their way past his cottage by a few blocks until they reached the forge.

 

“It’s not… It’s not much, I’m sorry,” Jon murmured, flicking on the light to reveal a fairly cramped living space that was attached to the forge proper. It was sparsely decorated, looking almost unlived in. In fact, if it were for the piles of books scattered around, Martin would assume that no one had ever stepped foot into this space at all. “Most of my time is spent working so the house itself is… Well, your home will be moved over here in a few days and combined with this space. I’m sure that will be much better for you.”

 

If Jon had any thoughts about Martin moving into his space, he didn’t share them. Instead he guided Martin over to the small bedroom at the back of the home. There was, naturally, only one bed inside. Before Martin could even offer to take the couch or set up a pillow wall so they could share, Jon was moving to the door again. “Bathroom’s just through the door there. I’ll be in the forge if you need anything. Sleep well, Martin.” Jon didn't wait for a reply before walking away, closing the door gently behind him.

 

“Goodnight, Jon,” Martin whispered out into the now empty room. He made his way to the bathroom, washing his face and getting into the pajamas he had sent along to Jon’s for the night after their wedding. It wasn’t exactly what he expected– he was honestly hoping to at least talk to his newfound husband– but Martin was too tired to deal with the mixed emotions pooling in his stomach. He tried his best to settle into the strange new bed of his strange new husband and was grateful to find that sleep took him quickly.

Notes:

Next chapter next Wednesday! I cannot wait for y'all to see what the next couple chapters have in store :)

Chapter 4: Getting to Know You

Notes:

Turns out I'm a lying liar who lies, anyway here's the next chapter!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Martin awoke the next morning in an unfamiliar bed to the sound of something crashing into the house. He bolted upright, racing out the door to see Jon standing in what looked like Martin’s living room, though that hardly made sense since they were in Jon’s house. Looking around now, Martin could feel the magic seeping through every crack in the wall, combining their living spaces into one coherent space. He looked back through the bedroom door only to see a second one next to it, opening it to reveal the familiar bedroom of his cottage. In fact, aside from Jon’s bedroom and the door to the forge, it was like Martin’s cottage had gone unchanged. 

 

“What about all your stuff?” Martin asked, noticing a distinct lack of piled books that he had noticed the night before. Jon simply shrugged, causing guilt to flow into Martin’s stomach. “Jon, this is your space–”

 

“I’m hardly ever in the house itself,” Jon said gruffly, pointing to the door to the forge. “That space is all I need, really. You… You’ve given up so much already, Martin. Shouldn’t have to give up your home too. Sorry about the change in location, though, but I did bring the tree with. Should be able to get the garden in some semblance of order as well with the time off I have from Elias’s bolts.”

 

He hadn’t even noticed his cherry blossom tree standing proudly in the back garden. How Jon managed to move a whole tree and home by himself, Martin didn’t know. He voiced the question to Jon who simply shook his head. “Daisy and Basira helped me. Daisy’s friend’s with Annabelle– you might remember her as Circe– good with magic among other things. Any other questions?”

 

There were a million other questions Martin had for Jon but it was clear that Jon wasn’t the type to sit down and have breakfast, let alone have breakfast with his new spouse. So Martin shook his head, feeling almost sad when Jon nodded and headed into the forge without any further comment. He knew the situation wasn’t ideal, none of it was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t at least want to know Jon. They were living together, after all, or at least it seemed like they were. Jon’s comments about spending all of his time in the forge notwithstanding, of course, but still. Shouldn’t Martin know at least a little something about the man on the other side of the door?

 

Jon clearly didn’t think so.

 

Looking around the space properly now, Martin saw that all of his things were exactly where he wanted them to be already; nothing had been moved or lost in the transfer of Martin’s life over to Jon’s forge, though whether that was due to Annabelle’s magic or Jon’s care, Martin didn’t know. He almost wished things were a bit more disorganized so that he could do something to distract himself from the hurricane of emotions wrecking his mind. Staring out at the tree planted perfectly in his new yard, Martin thought to start on the garden. It wasn’t much out there, just a few dead shrubs to be removed and weeds to be pulled, but it was better than sitting around wondering about his new life or trying to play matchmaker when his heart just wasn’t in it. 

 

Weeding had never been his favorite activity but at least it proved to be a distraction for a couple hours. He found an old looking pair of gardening gloves on the back porch, grateful that he didn’t have to interrupt whatever Jon was doing to ask after them. Martin could hear banging coming from the forge; it wasn’t necessarily an unusual sound to hear coming from a forge, of course, but it wasn’t something Martin was quite used to yet. When he made his way back into the house, he noticed the banging stopped. Jon hadn’t emerged, so Martin went back outside, hearing the sounds of the forge once more before returning to the silence of the house. A surge of something fluttered in his chest at Jon’s thoughtfulness of soundproofing the house for Martin. 

 

Feeling slightly rejuvenated by his gardening, Martin made his way over to his work station, taking a look in his scrying orb to see who was in need of assistance in love today. Usually Martin preferred to go to Earth directly to create new blossoms of love between people but he was far too tired with all the ways his life had turned upside down. He would probably take a couple days off from going to Earth to allow himself to adjust and maybe, just maybe, spend some time with his new husband. For now it was easiest to get lost in his work, looking into the world below from the safety of his home and figuring out which relationships to let blossom and which to let whither.

 

He barely noticed how quickly time was passing, looking up after what felt like mere moments to find it was dark out. The growling of his stomach let him know that he worked through lunch yet again, which meant Jon likely did the same as he hadn’t seen nor heard the other god this entire time. Sighing to himself, Martin got up and set about making dinner. Jon had, thankfully, brought Martin’s refrigerator when he moved the cottage over, meaning Martin actually had things to cook with. Judging by the state of the house when Martin first arrived, he highly doubted Jon had any food in. It was strange to be cooking for two rather than for one; recipes that had been single meals being doubled with relative ease if not for the discomfort racing down Martin’s back as he realized he was cooking for someone else. Still, he prepared a simple salmon with pasta on the side, plating everything up and setting it on his small table– just enough room for two– before heading over to the forge door.

 

Jon had never said that Martin couldn’t enter the forge, but he still felt nervous as he knocked upon the sturdy wooden door. He heard a muffled ‘enter’ from the other side, pulling it open to reveal Jon hard at work, hammering away at some sort of metal on his anvil. “Ah, Martin. What did you need?”

 

“I made dinner,” Martin said, feeling oddly shy as Jon lifted his safety goggles to look at Martin more directly. “Thought you might want to join me?”

 

“Oh,” Jon gasped out. Martin was about to backtrack when Jon picked up whatever he was working on, sticking it into a bucket of some sort and leaving the room full of a sizzling sound. “That’s… Yes, of course I’ll join you. You caught me at a good time, actually, just finished up this bolt for Elias.”

 

Looking at the piece of metal Jon had been working on as he pulled it out of the bucket, Martin could see it was very much like a lightning bolt in shape. How he managed to shape and sharpen the metal like that, Martin didn’t know, nor did he know the actual function of the bolt itself but it hardly mattered. What mattered was Jon agreed to take a break from his work to join Martin for dinner. 

 

As Jon washed his hands, Martin tried his best to fill the empty air between them. “I thought you weren’t doing any work for Elias for three weeks?”

 

Jon hummed thoughtfully at that. “I mostly said that so I could slow down on the order. He wanted them by next week and now I have an additional three weeks plus however long he’ll give me after that to finish them up. Love the work, don’t get me wrong, but five hundred bolts in just over two weeks is a bit much even for me.”

 

Silence fell over the two of them once more as Jon took his seat across from Martin, looking at the salmon and pasta like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “You… you don’t have any allergies do you? I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before–”

 

“No!” Jon said quickly, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth. His chewing slowed and Martin saw something akin to joy growing in the man’s eyes, replacing the fear that they had been drenched in before. “My apologies, I just… I don’t usually eat very much. Get a bit lost in the work, usually remember to grab a sandwich or granola bar or something. I… no one’s ever really cooked for me before either. It’s very good, Martin. Thank you.”

 

Martin couldn’t help but notice that Jon didn’t quite meet his eye when he spoke. Whether this was anxiety or just him not being able to look at Martin, it wasn’t clear, but it always felt like he was staring past Martin rather than at him. He didn’t want to judge, of course he didn’t; if Jon felt uncomfortable looking at Martin for whatever reason, it wasn’t Martin’s place to insist that he did. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because Martin was Martin – couldn’t help but wonder if Jon was looking past him because he wished Martin wasn’t there. 

 

When silence fell over them again, Martin couldn’t quite find it in him to break it. 

 

Jon offered to clean up when they finished their awkward meal but Martin waved him away. Better to have something to do rather than sit in the space and wonder if his new husband disliked him. “I’ll be in the forge for most of the evening, but please come and get me if you need anything.”

 

His politeness was starting to grate at Martin; the fragile, tiptoeing way Jon spoke to him, like he was afraid Martin would break with one false move made anger flare up in his chest. It wasn’t Jon’s fault, and Martin tried his best to keep it trapped down, but if this was how it was going to be always, Martin might lose it.

 

The days all sort of looked the same: work, silence, awkward meals, abandoned rooms, repeat.

 

There was only one slight break in the routine over the course of their first month of marriage and that was the arrival of Daisy Tonner one afternoon. She was there when Martin returned from Earth, sitting on the couch, clearly waiting for Jon. When Jon finally came out of the forge, he blinked in shock at Martin. “Oh, Martin! I… Didn’t expect you to be home so early.” The fact that Jon seemed more surprised to see Martin– his husband– in the house than he was to see Daisy– a goddess who was not his husband– hurt somewhere deep in Martin’s soul for reasons he didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he and Jon were in love or anything, but still. You would think Jon would expect Martin’s presence more than Daisy’s. “Daisy and I always have dinner together on the first of the month, would you care to join us?”

 

Before Martin could even think to respond, Daisy just sighed. “You’ve been married a month now and you still didn’t think to tell the man about our plans?”

 

“The opportunity never arose,” Jon argued despite the fact that there had been many, many opportunities to mention the hunt goddess’s monthly dinners. So many days sat eating silently together and Jon never spoke up but here he was, talking to Daisy like it was the easiest thing in the world for him.

 

Maybe the issue was just Martin.

 

“I’m sorry for my dear friend’s failure as a husband,” Daisy said with a sharp grin at Martin. “If you’re not busy, I’d love for you to join us. Have to get to know the man who stole my best friend from me.” Jon looked panicked at that, quickly muttering something to Daisy, but Martin didn’t care. There was too much going on for him to even pretend to care.

 

Thankfully, his phone started to ring at that point, Melanie’s picture appearing on the screen. “Sorry, I better take this. Maybe next time,” Martin said flatly, knowing very well that he would not be accepting any half-hearted invitations next time. It seemed like Jon was going to say something, but Martin didn’t wait to hear what it was, choosing instead to go into his room, closing the door behind him and answering the phone. “Brilliant timing, Mel.”

 

“Uh oh,” Melanie said, instantly picking up on Martin’s sour mood. “What’s happened, Martin?”

 

“Jonathan Sims happened,” Martin all but growled. “We’ve been married for a month, Melanie, a month! And this man barely talks to me, barely acknowledges I exist half the time. He’ll share meals with me, sitting silently and cleaning up without comment before locking himself in the forge all day and all night! Why he continues to come to these stupid dinners I’ve started us on, I’ll never understand.”

 

“Martin–”

 

“And now he’s out there, joking around and having dinner with Daisy– who he apparently has dinner with every month and never thought it worth telling me! Noooo it would be too much work to inform his husband of his friendship with the goddess of the hunt, ‘the opportunity never arose’ he says as if we haven’t been sitting in silence with each other for a month straight. He won’t even look at me, Melanie. Just spend all day in the forge and stares into the fire instead of at me if I ask him something. I know I said I didn’t want to be Peter’s consort, but at least Peter would spare me a passing glance on occasion!”

 

Martin’s chest was heaving by the end of his rant, anger that had been bubbling just under the surface of his skin for the past month finally rising through his body and being expelled. He was frustrated, he was tired, he just wanted things to go back to normal but they couldn’t. Tears started to make their way out of his eyes and he was grateful that Melanie couldn’t see him breaking down. “Sorry about that, Melanie.”

 

She sighed, but it wasn’t one of anger. “It’s fine, Martin. You clearly needed to get that off your chest. I’m… I’m sorry this is going so poorly for you, Martin. I wish things could be different.”

 

“Yeah. Me too,” he whispered into the receiver, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly exhausted. “Enough about that, though, what did you need?”

 

Melanie was hesitating, Martin could tell, but before he could inquire again, she spoke. “Turns out Georgie and Jon used to be friends. Well, sort of friends anyway, it sounded… complicated. She said she’d be interested in getting together with the two of you some time soon but it sounds like that’ll probably be a no go.”

 

The fact that Georgie– the personification of warmth and home– had been friends with Jon – gruff and unpleasant as he was– was shocking to Martin. “I wouldn’t completely write off the idea but… yeah, probably not any time soon.”

 

Melanie hummed understandingly. “Well, if you ever need a break from the forge, you know where to find me. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

 

“Talk to you soon,” Martin replied hollowly, collapsing back on his bed as Melanie hung up. He was tired, he was hungry, he had a headache and he wanted to keep crying but found that he couldn’t. Eventually he got up from the bed, hoping to quickly grab something from the fridge before having a lonely dinner in his room. When he stepped out of the bedroom, however, he saw that Jon and Daisy were gone. On the table there was a single plate of chicken curry, a note written and left just off to the side of it. 

 

Sorry about dinner

Daisy went home when you took your call

I’m in the forge if you need anything

Hope you like curry

-Jon

 

He did, in fact, like curry but he didn’t want to eat it, not now. Instead he found his legs carrying him over to the door to the forge throwing it open without knocking. Jon startled slightly, dropping the piece of metal he had picked up. “Martin! I… I didn’t expect to see you this evening to be honest.”

 

Jon was, for once, looking directly at Martin. There was something akin to guilt in his eyes as he did and Martin realized in one sudden moment that just because the door to the forge was soundproofed didn’t mean that the rest of the doors in the cottage were. “How much did you hear?”

 

“I… All of it,” Jon admitted, still looking at Martin though Martin could tell he wanted to look away. “That’s why Daisy left, actually. Said that we clearly had some things to talk about and well…”

 

Guilt and frustration warred in Martin’s chest and he found frustration winning. “And instead of coming to talk to me you came here. Didn’t realize you were married to forging materials instead of me, I’ll have to keep that in mind next time I try to interrupt.”

 

He wanted Jon to argue with him, wanted him to get angry and loud and yell and actually acknowledge that Martin was present even if that acknowledgement was just to pick a fight. But Jon didn’t. He just looked away from Martin, back at the metal in his hand, like he was warring between telling Martin he was right or dropping the metal to beg for forgiveness.

 

“You’re angry with me, I know,” Jon said, setting the metal down and looking at Martin again. “And we should definitely discuss it at some point, but not now. Not when you’re clearly just looking for a fight that neither of us really want to have.”

 

Jon was wrong, though, Martin did want to have this fight. He was so sick of pretending things were fine, so sick of pretending that he wasn’t angry, wasn’t upset at how his life was being torn apart. “We can discuss this now or not at all.”

 

“Martin–”

 

“Either you can apologize for choosing to come here and put all the emotional effort on me or you can deal with my anger. I’m not walking away without something and I am perfectly happy to make it a fight if you’d like.”

 

He thought this would be enough to kickstart some anger in the forge god, but Jon simply sighed. “I am sorry, Martin. About all of it. But that’s not what you want to hear, you want me to try and defend myself when I don’t find what I did to you defensible so you can get angrier with me and feel right about doing so. And I don’t want that, not for us, not today. So, please. I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you. It’s… It’s a lot for me as well, you know. You’re not the only one who was forced to give up his freedoms.” 

 

And then the guilt was back.

 

“Jon–”

 

“Please, Martin, we can do this some other time when both of us have clearer heads. Just know that I’m sorry and that I mean that genuinely.”

 

Part of Martin wanted to protest further but he thought better of it, nodding to Jon and taking his leave. His eyes caught on the plate of curry still sat on the table and his stomach growled, alerting him once more to how long it had been since he had eaten. “It would be wrong to let it go to waste in my anger,” Martin murmured into the empty room, the silence almost echoing around him as guilt flared in his chest one more.

 

In the end, he packed the curry away and made a sandwich, eating it in his room and trying to figure out where everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required. I originally thought I wasn't going to end up moving to a twice a week update schedule but then I wrote 2 whole chapters of this fic yesterday (chapter 8 and 9) so we've got enough wiggle room to post twice a week! Only one more chapter and the epilogue to write but honestly I might end up cutting the epilogue we shall see how the writing goes. If the chapter count drops from 11 to 10, that means I cut the epilogue. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and are ready for more MISCOMMUNICATION!!! I promise things will get better for these two eventually but, well, it's chapter 4 or 10 main chapters so.

Also, and this is just for funsies as an apology for the intense miscommunication: my slowburn tag is 1000% a lie like it's true in terms of when they get together in this fic but in terms of actual timeline for this story it all takes place over like 7 months because I don't know how to handle time. In my defense, they're immortal so they probably don't know how to handle time either <3

Chapter 5: Mending and Breaking

Notes:

CW for Peter being a creep in this one

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sleep was hard to come by that night.

 

Between the guilt and the anger and the unsettling newness that the whole ordeal carried even a month into the marriage, Martin could hardly shut his mind off long enough to actually sleep. It was close to three in the morning when he finally gave up, getting out of bed and deciding to take a walk.

 

He passed by Jon’s room on his way out, sneaking a quick peek in to see that Jon was, in fact, sleeping. Martin had never actually seen Jon rest before– though to be fair he had never really bothered to look. The forge god looked so much younger while sleeping, the dim moonlight hiding any noticeable traces of his scarring and casting the silver streaks of his hair in the same darkness as the rest of it; tiredness still marred his sleeping face, though, like no amount of sleep could ever erase that from Jon’s body. Martin slid the door shut softly, making his way out into the cool night air. 

 

Though he had lived in this part of Olympus since well before his mother’s passing, Martin had never truly explored it. He knew his home and his garden and that was all he needed, or so he thought. Now that he was outside, walking through the hills of Olympus that had resided behind his neighborhood, he felt like he had been missing something his whole life.

 

Martin had been feeling that a lot lately.

 

Staring up into the night sky Martin felt both cared for and judged, like the night itself wasn’t quite sure how to feel about him. Knowing Martin’s luck, it probably didn’t. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed out there, just staring at the sky, but eventually he started feeling tired enough to try sleep again. He slipped back into his home, sparing one last glance through Jon’s door at his sleeping frame, trying to figure out how to fix this. Trying to figure out if it was truly something he needed to fix.

 

He awoke to the sound of the cabinets creaking and a slight clamoring as if someone was rooting through them. Fear raced down his spine as he bolted out of bed, throwing open the door and grabbing the nearest object– a spare scrap of metal that Jon must’ve brought inside by accident. Turning to face his assailant, Martin was shocked to find Jon; it appeared he was making breakfast.

 

“My apologies for waking you,” Jon said sheepishly upon seeing Martin brandishing a piece of metal. “I… This is probably the worst apology breakfast in history, isn’t it?”

 

“Apology breakfast?” Martin asked, slowly lowering the piece of metal. Given his reaction to finding Jon making breakfast, he supposed he could hardly fault Jon for being surprised to see Martin in the living room next to Daisy yesterday; at least Jon hadn’t threatened him with scrap metal.

 

Jon nodded, cracking two eggs into a bowl. “Yes, apology breakfast. Obviously there is still more that needs to be done, but I figured an apology breakfast was a good enough place to start. Georgie tells me you’re a fan of waffles?”

 

Many thoughts raced through Martin’s mind all at once: Jon was trying to apologize. Jon thought breakfast was the best way to start that apology. Jon had spoken to his friend about what kind of breakfast he likes so he could apologize. Jon was looking at him, truly looking at him, for what felt like the very first time. When the tidal wave of thoughts finally stopped crashing into the shores of Martin’s brain, all he was left with was “Waffles are my favorite.”

 

He felt foolish for that being his response until he saw Jon smile. It wasn’t the forced smile he had worn at their wedding nor the friendly smile he shared with Daisy yesterday; this smile was softer, slightly awkward on Jon’s face, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to smile at Martin or not. “Wonderful. Why don’t you go get ready properly and I’ll have breakfast almost done by the time you get back?”

 

Finding his voice missing, Martin nodded, stumbling back to the bathroom and splashing water on his face before brushing his teeth. Perhaps he was dreaming. Perhaps he fell asleep on that hill and a cow accidentally trampled him. Perhaps Gerry had sent Oliver to collect his soul and this was a weird version of the afterlife. All seemed more possible than what seemed to be happening: Jonathan Sims, making Martin breakfast, trying to apologize. An almost manic laugh started to bubble in Martin’s chest as he sat back down on his bed. It had to be a trick, didn’t it? Lulling Martin into a false sense of security so that Jon could– 

 

Jon could what, exactly?

 

Clearly he wasn’t doing this just to go back to ignoring Martin; if that was his goal, this seemed highly illogical. And he wasn’t looking to hurt him– Jon was small but he was much stronger than he looked if some of the forged weapons he made were any indication. He didn’t need to lull Martin into a false sense of security to harm him, he could do that easily. So why make Martin breakfast? Truly to apologize? That was the only logical answer left but that didn’t make any sense at all, not to Martin.

 

He got dressed mechanically, barely aware of the clothing he put on and barely aware of his legs carrying him back out to the table that Jon had set for the two of them; there was fruit and eggs and juice and the previously promised waffles, all waiting to be eaten with a nervous Jon sitting there, looking at Martin. Whatever had been pulling Martin along before this had the grace to pull him to his seat before letting go, leaving Martin floundering as he realized that he was back in control of his previously unthinking actions.

 

“So…” Martin started before trailing off immediately, unsure of what he wanted to say. So is this all a trick? So are you actually sorry or is this confessing to some sort of affair with Daisy? So do you have as many regrets as I do about all of this? So would you believe me if I apologized for my behavior yesterday?

 

“I owe you an apology, Martin,” Jon said softly, eyes flickering between Martin’s face and the food in front of them as he placed a waffle and a scoop of eggs onto Martin’s plate. “It… There is no excuse for how I behaved over the past month. Yes I was stressed and tired and scared, but so were you. Both of our lives were upended by this and I should’ve been more understanding towards you, should’ve actually discussed this with you instead of assuming you would want the freedom of, well, not being around me.”

 

The fact that Jon had simply assumed that Martin wouldn’t want to interact with him had never crossed Martin’s mind. Even if he wasn’t psyched about the marriage, they were still living together. It would hardly be fair for Martin to expect Jon to just tuck his whole life away for Martin’s benefit, hiding from Martin because he thought that was what Martin would expect of him. 

 

At the same time, it was frustrating to know that this was why Jon hadn’t talked to him over the course of the past month. He could easily have asked Martin what he wanted from this arrangement and Martin would’ve told him but instead he forced his own thoughts upon Martin like everyone else. 

 

Though Martin also could’ve tried to bring this up with Jon, but that was beside the point as Jon was still apologizing.

 

“It might seem hard to believe, but I am sincerely sorry for how this past month has gone. I never wished to hurt you with my actions and I apologize for my lack of care. If you cannot find it in yourself to forgive me, that’s perfectly fine, but please at least inform me of the best way to continue interacting with you. Unless, of course, you mean to go through with what you said on the phone and enter a consortship with Peter instead, which I would… Well, I wouldn’t quite understand it given that Peter is Peter, but I would support you in whatever way you deem appropriate.”

 

“I don’t actually want to be in a consortship with Peter,” Martin said, finding it a bit difficult to look at Jon now that the guilt was crashing full force into his chest. “I was angry, like you said yesterday, but I didn’t mean that. This… We wouldn’t have done this if I actually wanted to be Peter’s consort. Thank you, Jon. For apologizing and for agreeing to do this in the first place. It’s… It is hard, on both of us, and I’m going to try to do better about realizing how hard this is for you too. But I just need you to talk to me, ask me for my opinion, don’t shut me out. If this is going to work… We need to get better at talking to each other about what we want and expect.”

 

Jon nodded, a touch too vigorously for Martin’s liking, like he was taking this all as rules to follow rather than an attempt at mutual communication. Any fears he had were put aside by Jon’s voice– quiet and unsure– murmuring out, “I know husbands isn’t what you wanted, not really, but perhaps we can be friends?”

 

He sounded almost scared of what Martin would say to that, as if Martin would simply reject his meek offering of friendship outright; knowing now that Jon had just assumed Martin wouldn’t even want to see Jon, perhaps this thought wasn’t entirely farfetched in the forge god’s mind. “I think friends would be a great place to start,” Martin said gently, trying his best to smile genuinely at Jon. It must’ve worked, as Jon returned the look with a smile of his own, soft and reverent. 

 

Breakfast went smoother after that, casual conversation about both of their fields of work filling the air and for the first time in the past month, Martin felt comfortable. Even when Jon excused himself to go to the forge, it didn’t feel like Martin was being ignored; in fact, Jon invited Martin to enter the forge as he pleased, offering to teach him about metal work if the interest ever arose. It was honestly a good morning, the first good morning Martin had had in he didn’t even know how long.

 

Which is why he shouldn’t have been surprised when Peter showed up at the door to send it all crumbling down. 

 

“You’re very difficult to find, Martin,” Peter said, pushing his way past Martin to enter the cottage. “Much more difficult than you have any right to be. Are you hiding from me?”

 

“What do you want, Peter?” Martin asked, sounding more confident than he felt with Peter in his space. 

 

Peter chuckled at that. “You know exactly what I want, Martin.” His hand came to rest against Martin’s cheeks for just a moment before Martin swatted it away.

 

“I am married , Peter,” Martin spit out, wishing desperately that Jon would exit the forge to defend him while also wishing that Jon would stay far away from the scene taking place in the living room. 

 

“Married in title, sure,” Peter said, staring intensely at Martin, making his skin crawl. “But we both know it’s a sham. I mean, you’re never even seen together. No, I bet you’re just sitting in here, alone, as the little forge god toils away, unable to give you what you want, what you need . You’re so deliciously lonely , Martin. Wouldn’t you rather be… less of that?”

 

Martin pushed Peter towards the door. “Not if it meant being with you.”

 

Peter raised his hands, acquiescing if only for that moment as Martin shoved him out of his home. “You know where to find me when you change your mind, Martin.”

 

He slammed the door shut, locking it, before racing to his room and pulling out his phone. Elias answered quickly enough, not even getting a smug greeting out before Martin was spitting out, “ What was the point of me getting married if it wasn’t even going to stop your husband from barging into my home, demanding me as a consort?”

 

“So that’s where Peter ran off to then. And here I thought my nephew had put measure into place so you wouldn’t be found,” Elias mused. “I’m afraid the fault lies with you on this one, Martin.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Elias merely sighed. “You’re meant to be married, Martin. And yet no one ever sees you together, you never talk about each other in public, no one knows a godsdamn thing about your marriage, of course they think it’s a scam. If you could at least act like you’re married as you’re meant to just once, Peter will stop asking about taking you as a consort!”

 

Part of Martin wanted to yell at Elias that his marriage with Jon was no one’s business except for him and Jon, but the rest of Martin knew that the spectacle of it all was precisely what Elias said would draw Peter off of Martin to begin with. It wasn’t just about being married, it was about seeming married, something he had Jon hadn’t done as they were too busy not talking to each other. “What do you recommend, then?”

 

“A date. Tonight, at the Olympiad. My treat, of course. Arrive at seven, allow yourselves to be seen and be seen having a good time. Should be enough to at least start conversions about you two so that Peter will at least be a little less shameless in finding your home.”

 

“Fine,” Martin gritted out, trying his best not to picture the suredly smug look on Elias’s face. “Thank you, Elias.”

 

“Of course, Martin. Do say hello to my nephew for me, won’t you?”

 

With that, Elias hung up, leaving Martin alone in the empty air once more. At least this time he didn’t feel as hesitant about knocking on the door to the forge before letting himself in. Jon was at a desk in the back corner, drawing some sort of plan out from the look of it. He looked happy when he saw Martin enter, smiling brightly like Martin had never seen before, at least until he saw the look on Martin’s face. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Peter stopped by,” Martin said, noting the way every muscle in Jon’s body seemed to tense. “Apparently a wedding is not enough to stop his desperate attempts at making me a consort.”

 

Jon bolted out of his seat at that, reaching out to Martin with his right hand before suddenly pulling it back and reaching out with the left one instead. He hesitated slightly before putting a hand on Martin’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that Martin thought was meant to be reassuring. “I… He wasn’t supposed to be able to find you. To be able to find either of us. I’ll have to talk to Annabelle, this is… Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” Martin said, putting a pin in the fact that there was clearly some sort of magic on the house meant to keep Peter from seeing them. “Talked to Elias, he has an… Unconventional idea of how to maybe get Peter to back off.” Jon raised an eyebrow at him, waving his hand as though to say ‘go on’. “A date, tonight. At the Olympiad. Every eye in Olympus on us, basically, showing that we can be… I don’t know. Affectionate. In love. Together, more than just in title.”

 

Jon grew more and more tense with each passing word, hesitation clear on every inch of his body as he finally nodded. “If that’s what would be best for you, then… Of course, Martin.”

 

If things had been a little smoother over the past month, Martin might’ve pointed out that Jon should do things that were best for himself as well as for Martin, but Martin was desperate at this point and did not want to see Peter more than he had to, especially when he went through a whole marriage just to get away from him.

 

And so they found themselves seated at a table in the center of the Olympiad, the eyes of dozens of people on them from the moment they walked in. Even the servers were clearly trying hard not to stare as they ordered their meal– probably more food than either of them wanted since this was at Elias’s expense after all. Jon held his hand as they waited for their food, leaning against the table and looking at Martin in a way he could only describe as ‘besotted’.

 

Clearly Jon was a much better actor than Martin had expected.

 

It felt like people were much chattier with Martin, even as he was sitting across from Jon, as the evening wore on. The servers came by more often than he thought strictly necessary, talking to Martin far more than they talked to Jon, though that was partially because of Martin drawing their attention away from the anxious looks on his husband’s face. Even other patrons– mainly minor gods– came up to talk to Martin as if they were old friends, asking about his marriage and complimenting the wedding ceremony. When their attention turned to Jon, he would look nervous at best and angered at worst, growing quieter and quieter as the evening continued. Over the course of the evening Martin saw Jon go from besotted to sullen to resigned, though resigned over what Martin couldn’t say. Eventually they made their way out of the restaurant, a few people on the street as they passed asking Martin questions or giving him compliments. It felt strange to be noticed by people in this way, especially after so many years of burying himself in his work to avoid others. There was something almost nice about it, though the niceness didn’t quite hit when he saw the blank look on Jon’s face.

 

The streets were blessedly empty by the cottage, not a neighbor in sight, only the night sky above viewing them at all. That feeling of being judged by the sky came back at full force but Martin wrote it off; it was probably just him feeling weird about the attention he had gotten all night. 

 

“That was fun, don’t you think?” Martin said as he slid the door closed, turning to see that Jon wasn’t standing there at all. The door to the forge was cracked ever so slightly, allowing the sounds of crackling fire and hammered metal spill out. “Jon?”

 

“What.”

 

“Is… Is everything alright?” Martin asked. It had been a strange night with all the attention he had gotten, but he didn’t think anyone said anything untoward to Jon. They hadn’t said anything to him at all, something that Jon generally seemed okay with.

 

Jon ignored Martin, still hammering away at something that Martin thought might be a sword. “Everything’s perfectly fine, Martin. Why don’t you go to bed? Or better yet, why don’t you go find someone else to pull a charade with you since you clearly have an abundance of options so you no longer need to put up with me.”

 

“What on Olympus are you talking about?” It felt like more than a step backwards from this morning; no, this felt like the floor had fallen out from beneath Martin, dropping him so far away from where he began that he couldn’t even begin to figure out where he had lost his footing.

 

Jon dropped what he was working on, spinning around to look at Martin with fire in his eyes. “‘I think friends would be a great place to start’ was that all a lie? A ruse to get me to go out of the house with you so you could find someone else? Why are you even here , Martin? Because Elias told you to be? Because I threw myself to your defense at the Solstice party? It’s not because you want to be, clearly, and you have other options, so why don’t you go and find one of them?”

 

“Jon–”

 

“Just go, Martin,” Jon said tiredly, the fight seeming to drain out of him. “Just go.”

 

Martin was confused, he was hurt, but he listened anyway, walking away from Jon and the forge. He thought the night had gone well, people were interested in their marriage and that should stop Peter from seeking Martin out. It was what they wanted, wasn’t it? Clearly not if Jon’s little outburst was anything to go by. He assumed that Jon was alright with people not talking to him, clearly looking uncomfortable when people even looked his way but perhaps Martin had gotten it wrong.

 

You did tell him not to assume things about you , he thought. Perhaps you shouldn’t have made assumptions on his behalf either . Sitting at the table, Martin put his head in his hands. Things had seemed so hopeful this morning, like things could actually get better, and yet here he was, once again picking up the shattered remains of his life.

 

And this time he didn’t even know what caused them to break.

Notes:

So I finished writing this fic today. I actually wrote my epilogue before finishing the last chapter, but everything is in fact done. Next chapter will be up tomorrow but after that I leave it to y'all: please let me know if I should continue doing twice a week updates or if I should just update once a day so y'all can get to the end of this fic. I'm perfectly fine with either so let me know otherwise I'll probably just try and stick with twice a week updates. With that, I'll leave y'all to stew in this cocktail of miscommunication until tomorrow <3

Chapter 6: Getting to Know All About You

Notes:

CW for attempted murder

Also please note this is once again me blatantly misusing my Classics degree I fully fuck with the mythology here because I wanted to

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Martin was still sitting at the table when Jon exited the forge however many hours later, looking surprised to see him. “I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Jon said softly, a touch colder than Martin was used to.

 

“Where else would I go?” Martin asked weakly. Whatever options Jon seemed to think Martin had, he didn’t have them. And sure, he could’ve crashed on a friend’s couch for the evening– Georgie and Melanie told him multiple times that he’s always welcome– but he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to know what had gone so horribly wrong over the course of the day. Jon didn’t say anything to that, simply choosing to stare out the kitchen window; at least he hadn’t walked away from Martin fully. “What happened, Jon? Genuinely, I’m confused. I thought we had a lovely dinner together and–”

 

"Together?" Jon asked, barking out a sound halfway between a laugh and a scream. “Do you know what it’s like to sit at a table as person after person comes up to talk to a man who they know to be my husband, giving you looks of absolute pity when they see that you’re there with me ? Do you know what it’s like to have all of Olympus looking at you, knowing that they’re confused by the fact that anyone could possibly want you? Have you ever had to sit through a meal while being ignored by every person who passes so that they can talk to the person you’re with, all while knowing that person would also rather be with anyone else?”

 

He… He didn’t realize Jon had felt like that. Jon looked so nervous every time someone even spared him a passing glance that Martin assumed drawing the attention away from him would be preferred but all he did was make Jon feel neglected. There was a spiteful part in Martin’s brain that was almost happy about this, happy he could cause Jon the same pain he had caused Martin over the course of the past month; that part was quieter, though, than the knowledge that Jon hadn’t dragged Martin out to the public stage to ignore him and make him feel belittled. Only Martin had done that.

 

“I’m sorry you ended up married to me,” Jon whispered, voice raw and just barely audible in the ringing silence of the cottage. “I know… Well, look at me. I’m certainly not anyone’s first choice. Not anyone’s choice at all. And now you’re stuck here with me unless you want to become Peter’s consort.”

 

Martin got up slowly, moving as quietly as possible so as not to startle Jon. He placed a hand in the center of Jon’s back, feeling him tense slightly before relaxing, just a touch. “I won’t lie and say you were my first choice or that you were exactly what I was looking for. That wouldn’t be fair to you. But… I’m grateful for you. Grateful that you offered, grateful that you’ve been trying your best to make sure I’m comfortable even in the face of your own discomfort. And I’m sorry about this evening. I thought drawing people’s attention away from you would be what you wanted, you seemed so nervous every time someone came up to us. Guess I should’ve taken my own advice and just asked you, huh?”

 

Jon let out a small laugh, turning around to face Martin; Martin was aware all at once at how closely they were standing, wanting to step back to give Jon space but not wanting Jon to think he was trying to get away from him. “It’s… It’s all around just a horrible mess of a situation, isn’t it?”

 

“Every marriage has its issues,” Martin joked, lighting up when he saw the genuine smile on Jon’s face. “So we work on it, together. Because this is the situation we’re in and it can only get better if we let it. I, for one, want it to get better. I want to be your friend, Jon.”

 

“I want that, too,” Jon said softly, looking up at Martin with such soft reverence on his face that Martin couldn’t help but wonder if he was Jon’s first friend but he knew that wasn't the case; Daisy had been here a few times since that first encounter Martin had had with the huntress and there was Georgie who, despite everything Martin thought about Jon, had been friends with the forge god at some point. “We can make this work, together. So Peter leaves both of us alone.”

 

This was not the first time Jon had hinted at his dislike of Peter, though Martin knew it wasn’t the best time to inquire about that. They had a long way to go before sharing those sorts of secrets, but at least they were on the same page for once.

 

And they stayed on the same page.

 

Don’t get him wrong, they were both still a bit too heavily invested in their personal work for anything other than a passable friendship, but they were getting there. They were once again having dinner together, this time actually talking to each other about what they were working on. When Martin wanted to invite Tim, Sasha, and Gerry over to watch some movies, Jon actually stayed on the couch with them for the first movie instead of hiding away in the forge. He was quieter than usual, but he was making an effort and Martin appreciated that. When the movie ended and Jon made his way to the forge, Tim turned to Martin. “So you’re doing better then?”

 

“We are,” Martin said with a small smile. “I… It was rough to start but I think we just needed to talk to each other. He’s not so bad when he’s not hiding away forever. We’re… Well, we’re almost friends.”

 

“Almost?” Gerry asked, looking amused by Martin’s statement. Martin shot a quick glance at the forge door, making sure it was closed, before nodding. “Come on, Martin, give us more than that.”

 

Martin sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “Well… It’s a bit like having an office friend. I know about his work, know what foods he likes for the most part, know a passing amount about his family. But other than that… I couldn’t tell you his favorite color or what he wishes for or what he likes other than his work. So we’re almost friends, we just… We’re getting there, I think.”

 

“Wow, Marto, can’t believe you’re not friends with your husband,” Tim joked, only to be hit by Sasha. “But seriously, Martin, I hope things get better for the two of you. I know it’s only been a couple of months but still, you deserve a happy ending just as much as anyone else.”

 

It was a running joke of sorts between Martin and Tim; Martin created happy endings for people on Earth. He spread love wherever he went and made sure that the relationships that needed to fizzle never broke so badly that a person couldn’t find their happiness elsewhere. Tim would always say that Martin could create a happy ending for anyone except for himself.

 

But in all honesty, Martin didn’t really think he deserved one.

 

Or, at least, that he’d be able to find one. Not with what people knew about him and how his godhood shaped their perceptions. Finding the friends he did had been difficult enough, he didn’t need more than that. He wanted more, of course he did, but he didn’t need it. Not when he had Tim and Sasha and Gerry and Melanie and Georgie. And, if things continued to progress nicely, Jon. They weren’t exactly what he had dreamed of, but they were what he needed and that was more than enough.

 

After saying goodbye to his friends– lots of hugs and promises to not be a stranger and the like– Martin made his way over to the forge. He had taken to sitting with Jon in the evenings and watching him work for a while before tiredness finally set in and he excused himself to go to bed. When he entered tonight, however, there wasn’t the usual banging and clanging that Martin had grown so accustomed to nor were there the scratchings of pencils as Jon drew out new plans. Instead, Martin found Jon at his desk, a look of frustration on his face as he rubbed something into the burn marks on his hand. He startled when Martin entered, looking like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t meant to. “Martin! I thought… Weren’t you supposed to watch another movie?”

 

“Gerry was a bit tired and Sasha has to get up early tomorrow so we called it a night,” Martin said, making his way over to Jon. “Is… Is your hand okay?”

 

Jon shrugged and sighed. “Just old wounds acting up, you know how it can be,” Jon muttered. “Or maybe you don’t, I don’t know. It gets… stiff sometimes. Painful. A huge inconvenience when I’m attempting to work but… I suppose I can’t ignore it forever, even if I want to.”

 

“May I?” Martin asked, gesturing to Jon’s hand. Jon shrugged once more, reaching his hand out to Martin after a moment of hesitation. Martin picked up the cream he had seen Jon rubbing into his hand, doing his best to apply it while also massaging the hand itself. “You know, I bet Tim could make you something that would help with the pain more. Or, if you’d like, we can just do this a bit more regularly so that you’re not ending up in so much pain.”

 

The tension in Jon’s body seemed to ooze out of him as Martin continued to massage the rough skin of his hand. “I would hate to impose–”

 

“You’re not imposing, I’m offering,” Martin insisted, rubbing the last of the cream into Jon’s hand before letting it go. “I’ll talk to Tim about getting you something for the pain. Befriending the god of medicine has to have some perks, right?”

 

Jon chuckled at that. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Martin.”

 

Four days later Sasha was at the door with a salve from Tim. “He said it works best if you use it at least twice a week,” Sasha explained, passing Martin the rest of his post as well. There wasn’t much, just a letter from Peter that Martin promptly tore up. “Are you going to come to movie night at Melanie’s next week?”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Martin said with a smile. He had been looking forward to seeing Melanie and Georgie again. They had been calling and texting quite frequently, but it had been some time since all of them had gotten together.

 

“You should bring Jon with, too. He’s… Well, we like him at least. A bit odd, a bit quiet, but nice I think. See if he wants to join us.” Sasha said before giving Martin a hug and heading out to deliver the rest of her messages for the day. 

 

He brought the salve to Jon, explaining Tim’s instructions about twice weekly application. “Do you still want my help with it?” Martin asked, watching as Jon’s eyes grew wide at the prospect. “It’s alright if you don’t I just–”

 

“You don’t mind?” Jon’s voice was hesitant, like he was expecting Martin to retract his offer at a moment’s notice. Instead of answering, Martin took Jon’s hand into his, feeling the rough scarring beneath his fingers in full before opening the salve to apply to the skin. They were silent for a while, Martin in concentration and Jon… Well, Martin could only guess the reasons for Jon’s silence. “It’s not the most attractive of attributes, is it?” Jon asked as Martin moved to work on the scarring up his arm.

 

“I don’t know, some people are into this kind of thing I think,” Martin joked, trying his best to break whatever fragile tension was creeping up. He didn’t mind Jon’s scarring; it was something he always wanted to ask about but knew better than to comment on. Still, it wasn’t anything that detracted from Jon’s beauty– not in Martin’s eyes. Not when Martin had seen the gentleness of his eyes before or the soft reverence he showed at any sign of kindness. The scars made Jon look rough and far tougher than the overly considerate person Martin had grown to know.

 

Jon hummed noncommittally at that. “It’s not most people’s fancy though.”

 

Martin continued to massage salve into Jon’s scars. “I think,” Martin started, trying his best to catch Jon’s eye. “Most people should keep any comments they might have about your scarring to themselves. It’s no one's business but yours.”

 

Silence stretched between them once more as Martin finished applying the salve to Jon’s arm. He was about to retreat, give Jon some space to work or think or whatever he was going to do, when Jon grabbed his hand, stopping Martin in place before he let it go. “I… I owe you an explanation.”

 

“Jon…” Martin sighed. “I meant what I said, you know. It’s no one’s business but yours. You don’t owe me anything.”

 

“I want to tell you, though,” Jon said, causing Martin’s heart to stutter in his chest. “It’s… It’s been so long since someone actually knew and… And I want that someone to be you. If that’s okay, of course, I don’t want to- to just dump my trauma on you or anything if you’re not–”

 

Martin grabbed Jon’s hand, stopping the flood of words escaping his lips. “Why don’t I make us some tea? Some tea and then we can talk, okay?”

 

Jon nodded, allowing Martin to pull him out of the forge and into the kitchen, saying nothing as Martin guided him to his seat at the table before starting to make tea. Over their three months of marriage, Martin had learned exactly how Jon took his tea: steeped a touch too long, two splashes of milk, one spoon of sugar. Sometimes– depending on how he was feeling– he took honey instead of sugar, but he liked to have that touch of sweetness. When the tea was finally done, Martin placed Jon’s cup in front of him, sitting across from the forge god and waiting for him to feel comfortable enough to talk.

 

“As you might know, I’ve been… fairly reclusive over the millenia. I tried going out in Olympus after the event, but people’s staring just made me panic and well… It was easier to hide myself away. I don’t think I had been around anyone other than Daisy and occasionally Basira in… In well over a hundred years before heading to the Solstice party,” Jon paused, flexing his burnt hand, looking between it and Martin. “When you’re as banged up as I am, it draws questions that I couldn’t share the answers to, not unless I wanted to start issues with one of the most powerful men on Olympus.

 

“My uncle married Peter Lukas when I was still a fairly new god; I don’t think I was older than twenty-five at the time, honestly. Elias was mentoring me– essentially raising me as my mother was unable to spend much time on Olympus and I couldn’t thrive in the ways she wanted where she was. When he married Peter… Peter was not always viewed as powerful. People respected the sea, of course they did, but Peter didn’t hold true power. He couldn’t have power for himself so he married into it and when it seemed like I threatened that, he tried to have me removed from the picture.”

 

“Why would you be a threat to Elias?” Martin asked, heart breaking for Jon as the forge god told his tale.

 

Jon hesitated for a moment, taking a sip of his tea before dragging his finger around the brim of the cup. “I… I was not forged by the titans like the other gods, Martin. I was not born to mortals or nymphs only to ascend to power either. My mother… I was born to the primordial gods. My mother, Nyx, took a mortal lover and gave birth to me. Pure primordial power on Olympus… It would appear as a threat even if I never wanted the power. Never. But that didn’t matter to Peter. Didn’t matter to anyone. Where Basira is the goddess of wisdom, I was once the god of knowledge, of education and learning and academia. I knew things that Elias himself didn’t know, and that scared Peter.

 

“When setting my home on fire didn’t work,” Jon said, gesturing to the burn marks on his arm. “He decided the best way to deal with me was to toss me off of Olympus. I survived– Olympus only knows how– but… Thoughts and memories were quite fuzzy for a while. Where I once had a world of information at my fingertips, it all seemed to fade away to nothing. The only thing I really remembered how to do and do well was to forge. So I dragged my way back to Olympus, found Elias, and told him what happened. Told him I could no longer serve as a god and tried to let that be that. I would go to Tartarus and live with my mother, away from prying eyes.”

 

“But you’re still here,” Martin said gently, fighting the urge to reach out and take Jon’s hand.

 

He nodded. “Yes. Elias… It may surprise you, but he was furious with Peter. Threatened to cast him out of Olympus, to strip him of power, to– I was the cause of their first divorce, actually. They only got remarried when I agreed to stay on Olympus. It’s… My uncle does love Peter. It’s probably his worst quality, honestly, but I didn’t want to be the thing that broke that for them. So I agreed to stay, agreed to take a new godly position in the forges as long as no one would bother me. After a couple years, it was easy to see that people had forgotten I had ever been another god at all. Peter Lukas ruined my life. He got everything he wanted at the expense of me– forgotten and broken and burnt, no longer a threat at all. When I heard him talking to you at the Solstice party… I couldn’t let another life be ruined by Peter Lukas. Especially not one as bright as yours.”

 

Martin couldn’t help it; he threw his chair back, moving over to Jon and wrapping his arms around the smaller god. Jon relaxed into the hug almost instantly, wrapping his arms around Martin in turn and allowing himself to be held as everything he just detailed to Martin raced through Martin’s mind. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I know that that doesn’t make anything better but gods I’m so sorry.”

 

Jon sniffled a bit before pulling back from Martin, wiping his eyes and trying his best to smile. “What about you? Any gripping trauma you’ve been keeping from me?” His voice was clearly trying to be light but it was far too wet to actually work. Martin’s frown must’ve conveyed something to Jon as the man sighed. “It’s… It’s something I’m still learning to live with, even after all these centuries have passed. It has brought me one good thing, though; it’s brought me you and the ability to help you.”

 

There was such raw sincerity in Jon’s words that Martin had to sit back down. “I will never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, Jon,” Martin said softly. “Peter… has always coveted me, despite my rejections of his advances. I actually started spending more time on Earth because I couldn’t stand the thought of running into him on Olympus and having to deal with him asking again and again and again for me to be with him. I’ve dealt in love my whole life, have always wanted love for myself and I just… I could never truly get it. Not from my mother who resented me and certainly not from Peter who saw me as a prize. I think that’s why this whole thing has been so hard on me; I wanted to be in love when I got married and instead–”



“Instead you’re here with me,” Jon finished, slumping back in his seat. “I’m sorry, Martin.”

 

“Don’t be,” Martin said, finding that he meant it. “It… I was never going to find what I was looking for, Jon. I’m too picky and too afraid to actually find the love I’ve wanted. Being here with you… It didn’t start out ideally, but I’ve grown to like it. I’ve grown to like you . You’re my friend, despite it all, and I’m… I feel lucky to have found you when I did.”

 

“Wait here a moment, please,” Jon said suddenly, pushing his chair back and turning towards the forge. Once upon a time this would’ve filled Martin with frustration but now… Now he just felt slightly fond as he heard Jon rummaging around in the forge. He returned with a small box, holding it out to Martin.

 

Inside the box were two rings, clearly hand made by Jon. One band was dark, almost black, braided metal of some sort that Martin couldn’t quite place. He thought it might be steel, though the wavy pattern to it that he could just make out through the braids made him question that. On top of the braided bands was a polished piece of jade, the green of it swirled with white strands. The other ring was silver– that much was clear. It was braided as well, the texture of it pleasing in Martin’s hand. On top of the silver band was a beautiful pearl, smooth to the touch.

 

“They aren’t much, I know, but… I supposed I wanted you to have something special. A wedding is meant to be something special, but it couldn’t be for you due to Elias and his stupid rules. I thought perhaps these would show you that I’m committed, even if it’s all pretend. Of course, Elias had bands made elsewhere and they’re much more attractive than these twists of metal, I just… I thought it would be nice.”

 

“They’re beautiful, Jon,” Martin choked out, trying to stop the flood of tears that were attempting to force their way out of Martin’s eyes. “I… Thank you.”

 

Jon flushed, taking the box back. “There’s nothing to thank me for, Martin. I mean, we can’t even wear them since Elias–”

 

Martin cut him off, taking Jon’s hand into his. “You’ve been trying to make me comfortable and happy this entire time. Even when your plans went wrong, you were still trying. That… You deserved to be thanked for that.”

 

“Your happiness is my priority,” Jon said softly, squeezing Martin’s hand. “And I will do whatever I can to ensure it as long as you give me the chance to. That’s… That’s what friends do.”

 

The word friends felt almost hollow as it left Jon’s mouth. “That’s what friends do,” Martin repeated, finding the word feeling hollow in his mouth too.

Notes:

Alright y'all I've decided we're doing an update every day until this finishes because I'm excited for y'all to have everything but I also want a little bit of suspense between my updates. So next update tomorrow! The boys are finally communicating, let's see how well that goes >:)

In non-this AU news, I'm starting to work on my jmart week stuff which means March might be a little light on fics (I'm saying this now but honestly knowing me I will be throwing up fics in March because writing is the only thing I care about at) but I can assure you there's gonna be some fun stuff for jmart week! I'm working on my AU day fic right now and it's got a magic bookstore and I'm SO excited for y'all to read about it

Lastly in relation to this fic, Nyx is Jon's mom because I love Nyx so fucking much she's just so goddamn cool. I just think she's neat! And I think Jon deserves to have a cool, good mom who cares about him <3

Chapter 7: Beginning Again

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Martin couldn’t help but view Jon differently after their intimate conversation the week before. He knew it wouldn’t be what Jon wanted– the man detested pity– but he couldn’t help it; Martin didn’t pity Jon– well he did, but it wasn’t just that. No, what really changed was that Martin could finally see just how soft Jon could be when he wanted to. The rugged exterior and solitary lifestyle hid an impossibly kind man who had been wronged by many and still chose to help Martin, still chose to value Martin’s comfort over his own.

 

It seemed that that conversation was the last step needed to truly melt away the ice that seemed to be encasing their every interaction with each other. Jon was… surprisingly tactile when not worrying about people commenting on his hand. He would put his hand on Martin’s back as he passed by or wipe fuzz off of his shoulder or, on one memorable occasion, let his fingers linger against Martin’s as Martin passed him a cup of tea. And then, of course, there was the fact that he allowed Martin to help him tend to the scars on his hand twice a week. As the weeks wore into months, he started allowing Martin to apply the salve to other scars on his body as well, though not as often. Jon always looked so fond when Martin was helping him with this, like he could hardly believe that Martin was offering this aid or that he was accepting it for himself.

 

Martin could hardly believe it either half the time.

 

Among the many changes that seemed to befall their lives after that conversation was the fact that Jon had taken over cooking for Martin. When Martin came home from working on Earth to find a beautifully plated curry, he was instantly transported back to that day all those months ago when he first came home to see Daisy on the couch. She wasn’t here this time, though, just Jon, looking at Martin excitedly as Martin slowly made his way to the table. “You cooked?”

 

“I like to cook,” Jon said, looking somewhat sheepish. “Didn’t often get chances to before this since it was just me, but, well… I thought you might appreciate not having to cook for once.”

 

“You know, you can cook just for yourself. Some would even say that you should cook for yourself so you’re, you know, eating properly,” Martin teased as he sat down across from Jon. The curry was delicious, far better than any curry Martin could’ve made for himself. “I can’t believe you can cook like this and you haven’t been doing it every day.”

 

Jon seemed to flush slightly. “Ah, well… I didn’t want to get in your way before. And even when we sort of worked out that I could also be in the space with you, I didn’t want to interrupt your routine. But I’d be more than happy to take over cooking if you’d like. It’s… It’s nice to be cooking for someone again.”

 

There was something tender hidden in Jon’s voice, a kindness that Martin was still adjusting to coupled with something that almost seemed to run deeper than that. Whether or not Martin wanted that feeling to run deeper, he couldn’t tell you. Their friendship had been growing steadily, like a flower finally being properly tended to, and Martin wasn’t looking to disrupt its growth with any fleeting thoughts of whether Jon could mean more by his words.

 

It was about six months into their marriage that Jon finally took up Martin’s offer to join him and his friends on one of their nights out. Well, technically it was a night in, as Sasha had invited everyone over to her home, but still; Jon had been declining invitations for months now, looking reluctant as he said yes this time around. Martin was happy he was going, though, something that he didn’t think he would’ve felt all those months ago. He rarely got to see Jon around other people– usually excusing himself when Jon had Daisy over– so to see him interact with Martin’s friends…

 

Everything about it just seemed like a step in the right direction.

 

Jon spent most of the day leading up to the movie night bouncing back and forth between the forge and the kitchen; Martin didn’t know what he was making, but it smelled utterly divine and was very difficult to resist peeking in on. He didn’t even get a good look at whatever it was before Jon had packed it away into a covered dish, looking at Martin expectantly. “Are we ready to go?” There was a snappishness to his voice that Martin could tell was caused by the nerves.

 

“You know, there’s nothing to fear with my friends. They like you already.” It was true. As Jon warmed up to Martin and Martin’s stories of Jon got more friendly, so did his friends’ perceptions of Jon. They were looking forward to seeing Jon again after their brief interactions with the other god, their invitations for Martin to bring him along genuine.

 

Jon, however, still seemed unconvinced by this. “It’s just… Well, you’ve seen how I live. Not exactly bursting at the seams with friendliness or anything like that. What if you’re wrong? What if they only like the idea of me or- or only invited me along because they pity me?”

 

Martin took the dish out of Jon’s hands, setting it on the counter before replacing it with his own hands, squeezing Jon’s gently. “There are a lot of ways I can correct those statements, but we don’t have a lot of time so I’ll just go with the most important one: they’ve been asking after you for months , Jon. Not out of pity, but because they know we’re friends and I care about you and that’s enough for them to care about you too, okay? Trust me, if they didn’t like you, you would learn very quickly. You should see the way Gerry talks about Leitner in comparison to you, you would know if you weren’t actually liked or wanted I promise. So trust them and trust me on this, okay?”

 

“I do– Trust you, that is. I.. Thank you, Martin. As you might’ve gathered, I’m a bit out of my depths but… But I trust you, so I will trust what you’re saying about this.” Martin smiled at Jon, passing him back his dish before ushering him out the door, Jon’s hand finding its way into Martin’s as they began walking.

 

The home that Tim, Sasha, and Gerry owned was far enough away that driving there would’ve been a legitimate option, but as Martin walked with Jon beneath the steadily dying light of the sun, he couldn’t help but feel like the walk was the better option and not just environmentally; Jon– when he wanted to be– was quite the talker, chattering away about anything and everything now that he knew Martin didn’t mind. If he were being honest, Martin would tell you that he actually loved hearing Jon talk about things, he loved to see the way Jon’s eyes lit up when he was passionate about something or the way his nose scrunched up in frustration when he was trying to recall a fact. Now that Martin knew that Jon used to be a god of knowledge, he could see it in his every thought; he still loved to learn and read voraciously, something Martin envied and admired in equal measure. Jon didn’t know everything– not anymore– but his thirst for knowledge never seemed to be sated. 

 

“Did you know that the stars we see above Olympus are actually different than the ones they see on Earth?” Jon asked about halfway through their walk after rambling on for the first half about the creation of Damascus steel. He was staring up at the stars above, only managing to stay on the pavement because Martin kept him there.

 

“Is that so?” Martin asked, gearing up for another Jon ramble. It always felt like he was learning something– both about the world and about Jon. 

 

Jon nodded, removing his attention from the sky but turning it to Martin instead of the path they were walking. “Some of them are the same, of course. Many of the human constellations are based on us after all and, well, the vanity of heroes does play into which stars we see up here overlapping with the ones they can see on Earth. But many of them are actually different! And even more of them are different night to night, though you wouldn’t necessarily be able to tell just from looking at it. My mother– Nyx– she recreates the sky as she sees fit each evening. Sometimes this means the sky stays the same for weeks or even months at a time while other times my mother gets bored of life in Tartarus and creates something entirely new each night. She stitches the stars into the sky by hand; I’ve never truly understood how she does it but the one time I saw her doing it… It was pure magic.”

 

Martin looked at the sky above, trying to recall if it looked the same as the night before. He couldn’t tell– though Jon did say that it wouldn’t necessarily be noticeable– but he thought it felt different. It felt like the sky was looking back at him, not judging him but smiling at him kindly. As the pieces clicked together in his mind he stopped, causing Jon to turn around. “Martin?”

 

“Can… Does your mum… Can she see us? Through the night sky?” The night after he fought with Jon– the first time, before they truly started being friends– he thought it felt like the sky was looking at him like it was judging him while also caring for him. The mixed emotions felt like it was Martin projecting his thoughts onto the sky but now…

 

Jon looked a touch sheepish, not quite meeting Martin’s eye. “She… She doesn’t do it often ! But every now and then she likes to- to check in as it were since I can’t really go to see her anymore and she’s only allowed to come visit very rarely, so… She’s not going out of her way to look for you if that’s your concern.”

 

It took everything in Martin’s power to continue to walk towards his friends’ house instead of flopping onto the grass. “You remember our first fight?”

 

“I… I try not to, but yes.”

 

“I went for a walk, while you were asleep. It felt like… Well, I thought the sky was judging me. And it turns out she was.” Martin felt like a fool, or at least he did until Jon grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Jon–”

 

“She likes you, you know,” Jon blurted out, still holding Martin’s hand as they walked. “I try to call her at least once a week and… Well, obviously you came up. She was wary at first but, well… She likes you.” Before Martin could even think to protest, Jon powered on. “Remember what you said earlier? About trusting your friends and trusting you ? Well, I’m asking you to trust my mum and to- to trust me. Because we’re both rather fond of you, Martin Blackwood.”

 

Heat rose to Martin's cheeks– thankfully hidden in the darkness of the night– as Martin took in every ounce of Jon’s earnesty. They were still holding hands as they approached the house, Jon only letting go so he could knock on the door while still holding his dish in his hands; part of Martin wished that he would’ve thought to knock first so Jon wouldn’t have let go but he tried his best to tamp that thought down.

 

Sasha greeted them with a wide smile, ushering them inside quickly before giving Martin– and then Jon– a hug. “It’s good to see you both! And what’s this, Jon? You know you don’t have to bring anything, just yourself!”

 

“It’s just some cinnamon rolls, nothing special,” Jon murmured, though Martin could see his cheeks darkening at the evident joy on Sasha’s face.

 

“Nothing special?” Tim called from the couch where he was laying, kicking his feet to the side and sitting up. “That’s not ‘nothing special’ mate, that earns you a spot on the good couch!”

 

Martin rolled his eyes at Tim. “You were really going to make him sit alone on the chair or on the floor? First time here?”

 

“Of course not. He brought cinnamon rolls,” Tim said with a wink. “Come sit, Jon. Gerry’s making popcorn and Melanie and Georgie are almost here, then we’ll get started.”

 

Jon hesitantly sat down on the couch, Tim immediately throwing an arm around him and starting to ask about his preferred movies as Martin made his way into the kitchen to see if Gerry needed any help. He could just hear the sound of the door opening once again, meaning Melanie and Georgie were there and the movie night could start in full once Gerry was ready. “Need any help, oh lord of the underworld?”

 

Gerry glared at Martin, barely managing to fight back a smile. “Grab me a bowl?” Martin did as he was asked, grabbing a bowl as Gerry finished making the batch of white chocolate popcorn; he set the bowl down next to the already completed bowl of buttered popcorn, waiting with Gerry and relishing in the relative calm of the kitchen. “So, things are going better for you and Jon?”

 

Martin snuck a peek into the other room, watching as Georgie sat down on the other side of Jon, saving him from Tim. Jon still seemed a touch more stressed than Martin would like, but for the most part he seemed to be doing okay and that’s all that mattered to Martin at that moment. Martin continued to watch for a moment as Jon and Georgie started to catch up, Jon seeming to relax more with each excited word that seemed to be coming from Georgie. “Yeah, we’re doing a lot better. He’s… He’s my friend. I care about him, just like I care about all of you.”

 

“He’s a nice guy, definitely more reserved than I thought he was when I first met him,” Gerry said offhandedly, pouring the chocolate over the popcorn and beginning to stir it. 

 

He snorted. “What, when you came over and he actually stayed out for the movie? You thought he was unreserved then?”

 

Gerry looked up at Martin, eyes scrunched in confusion only to widen a moment later. “Oh, gods, I never told you, did I? Remember before your wedding, you were asking if any of us knew anything about Jon?” Martin nodded. So few people knew anything about Jon, even now. If Martin thought about it for too long it made him sad; Jon was an incredible person and the fact that he felt the need to hide himself away because of Peter's actions crushed something in Martin's chest. “I thought I hadn’t met him before, but it turned out I had. Back at the Solstice party, shortly after we split up, some guy came up to me, saying that you were panicking and that I needed to go back to you right away. I followed him back to where we left you but you were gone. The guy seemed so shocked by this that he started apologizing for wasting my time and darted off, so I went looking for you. It wasn’t until that movie night that I realized it had been Jon. Hadn’t seen him around since well before he went by the name Jonathan, just sort of assumed it had been some minor god or hero or something. But it was him, he was really worried about you that night, made quite a fuss. Should’ve seen him as he had to backtrack when you weren’t there, must’ve thought I was gonna yell at him or accuse him of faking it or something. When I put two and two together after you guys had been married, well… I guess I knew then that he would take care of you. Glad to see he’s actually been doing that.”

 

Martin hadn’t thought much about the Solstice party since his wedding if he were being honest. There were too many other things to worry about other than the night he met Jon or the things he had to do to avoid being stuck with Peter, causing the beginning of the night to slip from his mind. Now that he was thinking about it, though, Martin could recall the rough feel of the stranger’s hand on his arm as they tried to calm him down; it was the same as the roughness of Jon’s burnt hand he had been tending to for the past few months. 

 

Even before their abrupt engagement and marriage, Jon had been trying to take care of Martin and Martin never knew. He never thought about it, never made the clear connections in his mind even though it seemed obvious now that Gerry had said it aloud. 

 

Looking back into the living room where Jon was sitting with Martin’s friends, Martin could see how much he had relaxed. He was talking animatedly with Sasha about something– probably going on another one of those long tangents that Martin was starting to hold dearly to him. Jon just seemed to fit here, both literally in this home with Martin’s friends and generally in Martin’s life. With each passing day Martin was noticing more and more how much he valued having Jon around, how much he cared for Jon’s wellbeing, home much he loved Jon and–

 

Oh.

 

Oh no.

 

Martin, staring into the other room, watching as Gerry took his seat and cast a curious glance at Martin still standing in the kitchen. Martin, watching as Jon relaxed against the couch, looking over to Martin and smiling , waving him over and patting the space beside him as though it was obviously where Martin belonged. Martin, who had gone into this marriage because he thought it was the best way to avoid a life he truly wouldn’t be able to stand. Martin, who had fallen in love with his husband and didn’t even notice it happening. 

 

He moved almost mechanically to his seat, having to squeeze next to Jon so that he fit on the couch with everyone else. Georgie had gotten up at some point to sit on the chair with Melanie in her lap, Melanie looking at Martin with concern in her eyes that Martin tried his best to dissuade. It felt like everyone was worrying about him– including Jon, who leaned up to whisper “Are you alright?” in Martin’s ear as the movie began. Martin tried his best to nod, focusing on the screen and hoping whatever movie Tim had picked for the week would be able to drown out his thoughts and the racing of his heart.

 

Jon seemed to doze off halfway through the movie, his head coming to rest against Martin’s shoulder, sending his heart into overdrive again. Against his better judgment, Martin put his arm around Jon, carefully readjusting him to make him more comfortable. Tim raised an eyebrow at him as he saw this but didn’t say anything, not even when he had to drive Martin and Jon home as Jon failed to wake up.

 

It wasn’t until he was placing Jon in his bed, turning to leave, that Jon finally woke up, reaching out to grab Martin’s arm. “Would you… Could you stay? Please?”

 

Who was Martin to deny a request like that?

 

This was not the first time he had slept in Jon’s bed, though it was the first time Jon was also in said bed. Unlike the night after their wedding, Martin found sleep hard to come by, looking at Jon’s sleeping form and wondering what caused him to ask Martin to stay.

Notes:

Next chapter up tomorrow! Poor Martin has finally realized he's in love with his husband, I wonder what comes next for them? Surely not more miscommunication...

Also related to Jon's little info dumps this chapter: I love Damascus Steel. It's SO FUCKING COOL. Backstory: at the start of the pandemic I watched a LOT of "Forged in Fire" on History Channel because I'm a nerd who likes a good competition show and thought it was utterly fascinating to watch these people try to make knives really quick. Anyway, I learned a lot about Damascus steel from watching Forged in Fire (it's essentially created by layering different types of material and then beating them together to get the wavy layering associated with it, it's super cool) so now I'm obsessed with it and thought this would be the perfect place to incorporate the concept of Damascus steel. It's so cool y'all. Go look at pictures of it.

As for the Nyx stuff in this chapter, totally 100% made up but I thought it would be cool. Nyx herself is just such a cool goddess that I thought she deserved to watch us from the sky above. Also she and Jon have a very good relationship because JON DESERVES A GOOD PARENT RELATIONSHIP GODSDAMMIT

That's all for now y'all see you tomorrow!

Chapter 8: The Word Panic Comes From the God Pan

Notes:

I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Martin woke slowly, feeling warm and well rested for the first time in a very long time. There was a weight thrown over his stomach, not heavy but noticeable, and it was only then that he recalled he had slept with Jon the night before. 

 

Jon, for his part, was still asleep and stayed asleep as Martin carefully eased himself out of the bed, replacing his body with a pillow that Jon latched onto immediately. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it, watching as Jon clung to the pillow and knowing that that was how he had clung to Martin as well. It made his heart ache, ever so slightly, as he pulled himself away from the scene. It wasn’t his to watch, after all.

 

They had leftover cinnamon rolls to have with breakfast, so Martin started to quietly set about making tea and eggs to enjoy with it. Just as the eggs finished in the pan, Jon made his way out of the bedroom, yawning slightly as he did. Martin had never quite gotten used to how soft Jon looked in the morning– none of the hardness of his protective gear for the forge nor any of the walls that used to be put up to distance himself from Martin. The walls had crumbled quite some time ago, leaving Martin with the caring and considerate side of Jon that had snuck its way right into his heart. Jon smiled as he sat down across from Martin, holding the cup of tea in both hands like a lifeline. “Good morning.”

 

“Morning, Jon,” Martin said, trying for casualness while feeling his heart racing in his chest. “I’m gonna be out of here for a couple days, hope that’s alright. I want to spend some extra time on Earth, Valentine’s day is next month and I want to get a bit more work done to prepare for it.”

 

If Jon was upset about this, he didn’t show it, simply nodding before taking a sip of his tea. “That’s fine, Martin. Not that you need my permission, of course, but… Thank you for letting me know.”

 

“Don’t let me come back to find that you haven’t been eating, Jon. I know you don’t like cooking for one, but still. Think of it as a challenge, from me, to take care of yourself.” 

 

Jon snorted. “Fine, fine, whatever you say.” Martin knew Jon’s facial expressions fairly well at this point– better than he thought he would– and he could tell that Jon was hesitating over something. He tried to smile reassuringly at Jon who seemed to relax at the sight of it. “I was wondering if you would… Would you like to join me and Daisy this weekend? If you’re not busy with work, that is. We’re trying to do dinner more regularly than just once a month so… So she’ll be here this weekend and I’d like for you to be here too if that’s alright. If not, it’s perfectly fine, I just… I love your friends. And I want you to love my friends too, if that makes sense.”

 

A bolt of something akin to jealousy passed through Martin’s chest at the mention of Daisy; it was the soft sort of jealousy, the sort of jealousy that is easy to convince yourself of not being jealousy if you aren’t careful. Martin wasn’t jealous of Daisy– really he wasn’t. Jon was allowed to have friends, he deserved to have friends, and Daisy was Jon’s oldest friend. So no, Martin wasn’t jealous, he simply didn’t like the way Daisy always seemed to glare at him when Martin was around. It seemed like she was judging him and had decided that she categorically did not like Martin, even as Martin and Jon got on more solid footing. 

 

As the jealousy dissipated, though, Martin couldn’t help but marvel at the thoughtfulness of what Jon was offering. Even if Jon wasn’t certain about their intentions, he liked Martin’s friends. He wanted to spend time with them and with Martin as evidenced by last night. And now he was inviting Martin to do the same with Jon and his closest friend– offering Martin a new view of his world and his life. Martin found himself falling a little more in love with Jon at that moment only to have the weight of reality crash back into him.

 

“I’ll try to make it this weekend,” he found himself saying, sounding much more calm and confident then he felt. The desire to kiss Jon on the forehead rose in Martin’s chest, barely able to be restrained as Martin grabbed his backpack and said goodbye to Jon, heading out into Olympus.

 

Martin didn’t necessarily lie when he said he had a lot of work to do with Valentine’s day coming up; it was his busiest holiday of the year, with all sorts of love crashing like waves on Earth. There was a lot to be done in preparation for the holiday, but most of it was already done and what remained didn’t really involve Martin going to Earth at all. In fact, Martin’s scrying orb was in his backpack as he walked away, something that he was almost certain Jon wouldn’t notice or question if he did notice. Martin didn’t want to lie to Jon, but claiming to go to Earth was much better than telling Jon the truth.

 

The truth was he was heading to Melanie and Georgie’s house, knocking on their door and being greeted by a surprised looking Melanie.

 

“Martin?”

 

“I… Something happened,” Martin said, feeling uncertain until Melanie pulled him into her arms, holding him for a moment before guiding him into the house and to her couch. She sat him down, calling for the Admiral to come and sit with him, before muttering something about making tea and finding Georgie. Martin sat there with the cat in his lap, stroking the Admiral’s soft fur and wondering if he was being too dramatic about the whole thing. Any thoughts about turning around and going back home were cut off by Georgie and Melanie coming back into the living room, pressing a cup of tea into Martin’s hands and sitting beside him.

 

Silence echoed through the space until Melanie finally broke it, turning to Martin with a serious expression. “I’m not above killing him. Peter or Jon. Who ever hurt you… Say the word, Martin, and they will regret it if they live long enough to.”

 

This was the thing Martin loved about Melanie; not necessarily that she would murder (Martin didn’t actually think that she would ) but the fact that she was ready to defend him no matter what. They had always had each others’ backs; ever since they became friends it had been one of them ready to fight to defend the other. Martin didn’t need to look to see the love that Melanie felt for him, her actions did that in far more ways than Martin could ever hope to see. 

 

Part of him wondered if that’s what Jon and Daisy were like.

 

And then he started crying.

 

“Oh, Martin–” Georgie sighed, taking his hand. “It’s going to be okay, Martin, whatever it is. We aren’t going to let anyone hurt you.”

 

The thing people tend to forget about Georgie is that she– like Jon, come to think of it– dealt in fire. The hearth which she presided over was viewed as an extension of the home, a sign of warmth and community and family, but it could still burn just as fiercely as any fire. People often thought Georgie softened Melanie– and in many ways she did– but in reality Georgie could be just as cut-throat as her wife, willing to do anything to defend those she cared about. Her hand in his felt like a comfort as much as it did a promise to follow through on whatever Martin needed, no matter how grisly. 

 

“It’s… It’s nothing like that.” Martin had heard surprisingly little from Peter over the course of the last few months and Jon– “Jon’s not done anything wrong, I promise I just…”

 

Georgie and Melanie didn’t say a word, simply sitting with Martin until he collected his thoughts, each of them holding one of his hands while the Admiral purred away loudly in Martin’s lap. “I think I love him,” Martin whispered finally. Melanie’s grip on his hand tightened and Georgie gasped. “I… I know I love him. And there lies the problem.”

 

“Problem?” Georgie asked, looking at Martin curiously. “Why would that be a problem, Martin? I… This is a good thing, isn’t it?”

 

“He’s never going to love me!” Martin yelled, startling the Admiral off of his lap. With the cat gone, Martin got up, starting to pace. “I mean, I was… Well, I think I treated him fairly all things considered but still it’s not like we got off to the best start. And he’s been… he’s been so nice to me, I mean he agreed to marry me for Olympus sake! He did all of this because he has this weird sense of duty to protect me from Peter and it’s very sweet but still he doesn’t… He doesn’t love me, why would he? Why would he think that our marriage to keep Peter away from me and Elias from pestering Jon about marrying would be anything other than- than a business deal? Because that’s all it is, that’s all it’s meant to be and then I went and- and fell in love with him like some kind of fool!”

 

“Martin!” Melanie’s voice was sharp, like she had been trying to get his attention for a while now as he rambled on about the hopelessness of his love for his husband. “Will you sit back down please so we can actually discuss this?”

 

He nodded, collapsing back onto the couch and staring at the ceiling. “He’s the one who found me at the Solstice party, did you know that? I started to panic and someone came up to me to help calm me down and it turned out that was him. He… Every step of our relationship he has been thinking of me and I didn’t do that for him in turn. Why would he love me after all of that?”

 

A knock at the door startled Martin out of his melancholy; when he looked up, he saw Georgie letting Tim, Gerry, and Sasha into the house, Cerberus wiggling wildy in Gerry’s arms, all three heads focused on Martin as if he could sense Martin’s sadness. Gerry set the dog down, watching with a small smile as Cerberus bounded over to Martin, jumping up on him and licking him with all three tongues. “Hello, Cerberus,” Martin said softly, feeling a bit of the happiness that had been lost to his stress starting to creep back in. “And hello to you three as well, I didn’t realize you were coming over today.”

 

“Melanie sent a text as soon as you arrived, we came as quickly as we could,” Sasha said, sitting down next to Martin and throwing an arm around him. “Melanie said it seemed serious?”

“He’s in love with Jon,” Melanie said, taking the words from Martin before he could stumble through them yet again. “And now he’s catastrophizing.” 

 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Gerry asked as he sat down on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against Martin’s legs. “I mean, I certainly love my husband. And my wife. Isn’t that what you want in a marriage?”

 

Martin groaned. “It’s more complicated than that!”

 

Tim– trying his best to look serious even though Martin could tell he was fighting off a grin– sat down next to Gerry, looking up at Martin. “So uncomplicate it, then. What’s the real problem here, Martin?”

 

The real problem was that Martin knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve any of it. He didn’t deserve Jon’s kindness or his friendship and he certainly wouldn’t deserve Jon’s love if Jon– by some miracle– happened to love him in return. He could be grumpy and reserved and down right frustrating at times, but he was also incredibly kind and adorably nerdy at times. He tried to take care of Martin; he let Martin take care of him. There were so many reasons Martin could list about loving Jon but they didn’t matter compared to what he already knew: Jon wouldn’t love him. Not when he didn’t deserve to be loved.

 

Trying to express that to his friends was met with the usual fanfare: “Of course you’re worthy of love, Martin!” “We love you dearly, Martin, and Jon does too!” “Why would he want anyone but you?”. It was all the same in the end, just empty words being spoken by people who cared about him and wanted him to feel better without realizing that Martin, at his core, was unlovable. It just didn’t work for him, never had. He could create love for others without a second thought, could see the ties binding souls together from miles away, but he could never find the romance he so desperately craved for himself. Even friendship had been so hard for him for so long– so much of his life wasted feeling small and unwanted. His friends loved him, of this he had no doubts, but to actually gain a romantic partner…

 

It was out of Martin’s realm of possibility.

 

When it became clear that they weren’t getting through to Martin as they wanted, they agreed to let him shuffle between Melanie and Georgie’s and Tim, Sasha, and Gerry’s homes for the next couple days. Just enough time to get his head wrapped around the situation at play and settle his aching heart. 

 

Against his better judgment, Martin decided he would join Jon and Daisy for dinner this weekend. He told himself it was about getting to know Jon’s friend better, but in all honesty he just missed Jon. He missed being at home, hearing the sound of Jon working through the door he now left cracked so that Martin knew he was always welcome. He missed watching Jon cook and helping him clean up, missed listening to Jon ramble about anything from metal work to the importance of bees. When Martin originally left home for the week he thought the distance would help clear his head and make it easier to love Jon quietly, but now he just missed Jon more than he ever had before, wanting nothing more than to be there with him and for it to be real.

 

The sound of laughter could be heard as Martin opened the door to the cottage. It was the familiar kind of laughter, the surprisingly loud kind of laughter that overtook Jon when he thought something was extremely funny. Martin always relished hearing that sound and now, standing in the doorway, he wondered how often Daisy heard it instead of him. 

 

“Martin! There you are!” Jon called from the kitchen. As Martin stepped into the room he noticed two things: the first was Daisy glaring at him from her seat, almost as if she were appraising him.

 

The second was how much love was flooding their little kitchen.

 

It crept into every last corner of the space, bursting forth from Jon and filling the empty are around him like it couldn’t think to exist anywhere else. He had never seen Jon like this, never seen love pouring from him so intensely that it couldn’t be dismissed by Martin; he didn’t like to see the love pouring out from everyone at all times and had gotten quite adept at ignoring it dancing in his vision, as if flipping it from view. Now, though, it couldn’t be ignored, not even if Martin wanted to.

 

And gods above did he want to ignore it.

 

He knew that Jon and Daisy were good friends, that she had been his only friend since what happened with Peter all those centuries ago. Jon had never shied away from how important Daisy was to him or how important the connection to the world she brought to him was. And despite all of that, Martin never for a moment thought that Jon might love her romantically.

 

But now, standing in the kitchen, seeing the way affection and love burst from Jon’s chest colored the deep purple of romance, he knew he had been mistaken. It must’ve been so difficult for Jon to be in a false marriage with Martin while hiding this much love for his best friend. He didn’t deserve to do that. No one did.

 

Martin tried to seem engaged during dinner, talking to Daisy about the most recent hunt and trying not to feel jealous when Jon laughed at her jokes or at the way purple seemed to continue to spill from his heart as the evening wore on. Even after Daisy left, Martin’s vision was still laced with purple, as if Jon couldn’t stand to keep it contained anymore. It made Martin’s head spin and heart ache, but he knew what he had to do.

 

Jon smiled as Martin entered the forge, a soft, fond smile that Martin had been growing to cherish. It made him feel wanted, made him feel loved. A small bit of purple was still emanating from Jon’s chest, though it was easier to ignore now. Jon had done so much for Martin, had given his life away for him, had made Martin fall in love with him.

 

The least Martin could do for his love would be to give Jon his life back.

 

“I think we should get a divorce,” Martin said finally, watching as Jon’s face flashed from hurt to confused before settling on a false blankness with worry prickling at the edges. “It’s… This isn’t fair to you. I’ll talk to Elias in the morning, but… I think it would be best if we went our separate ways.”

 

“I… I see,” Jon said, sounding far more hurt than Martin thought he would. Their conversations about open communication from all those months ago rang through Martin’s head and he thought about backtracking, about asking Jon what he wanted, about telling Jon everything, but when he tried he found his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. “I… I think I’m going to go elsewhere for the night, if that’s okay. We… We can talk about this more in the morning I suppose. With Elias. I… I should go.”

 

Martin thought there were tears in Jon’s eyes as he left, but that was just wishful thinking. He was probably going to Daisy’s, going to tell her that they could be together, going to tell her that he was finally free from Martin.

 

As the door to the cottage clicked shut, Martin broke down crying, slumped on the floor of the forge, wishing he had never gotten married at all. 

Notes:

New chapter up tomorrow! I'm planning to post the last chapter and epilogue all on the same day so everything will be wrapped up this Sunday! Once again I'm sorry for putting these boys through hell to get together but this is a fake dating-ish trope of a fic which means there HAD to be this conflict so that they could get together for real.

Also: I know I didn't talk much about Martin's powers throughout this fic (it's mentioned briefly in early chapters that he can feel love and see bit of the future as pertains to relationships) but he HAS been able to see the auras of love this whole time, he's also just good at ignoring them when he's not working (I DEFINITELY didn't forget to pepper in more of his powers throughout this fic, 1000% did not forget /s)

Lastly, the word panic DOES come from the god Pan, specifically the word panikos which came from the fact that the god Pan used to jump out at people in the woods to scare them. It felt like a fitting chapter title for Martin processing the fact that he loves his husband

Chapter 9: Never Just Convenience

Notes:

I swear nothing makes you realize that you don't know how to spell 'convenience' faster than having to spell it multiple times across a fic

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Martin woke up on the floor of the forge, dehydrated from crying and heart aching from the weight of what he had done. It wasn’t until he heard the buzzing of his phone that he realized what exactly had woken him. He thought about ignoring it, but it was Tim and knowing Tim he just wanted to make sure Martin was doing okay after leaving his home yesterday; better to get things out of the way and have Tim tell the others about his failed marriage for him. “Hi Tim.”

 

“Jon’s at my house.”

 

“What?” Martin asked, sitting up and instantly regretting it as his headache from dehydration increased with the movement. As he was sitting up, he noticed the ring box on Jon’s desk. It was open, still holding the two rings Jon had originally forged for their wedding, as though he had been looking at them before his… Before Martin came in last night. “Why is he at your house?”

 

Tim sighed and Martin could hear the muffled sound of Gerry talking to Jon in the background. “Showed up last night looking exhausted and upset. We gave him some hot chocolate and let him crash on the couch and then when he woke up this morning he said you were trying to divorce him and thought we might know what he did wrong. He seems really out of sorts about it, Martin. What happened?”

 

“I… I thought I was doing what he wanted,” Martin said, voice small, eyes still fixed on the open ring box. “He… I got home yesterday to see him and Daisy and Tim… the love in that room almost drowned me. I can’t stand in the way of that, I can’t be the reason that he doesn’t get his happy ending.”

 

Martin could tell the moment Tim covered the receiver, the muffled sounds of conversation filling the air before he heard Tim sigh again and then Gerry was speaking to Martin. “Come get him and talk to him. Or at least give me a place I can take him for you two to talk. Because clearly something has gone wrong with your ability to communicate and you need to fix this.”

 

The thought of trying to have a conversation with Jon about their collapsing marriage in this space that was filled to the brim with Jon’s love of Daisy yesterday hurt more than Martin could begin to explain. So instead he rattled off details to the field behind their house, telling Gerry that he would be waiting on the hill there if Jon wanted to talk to him.

 

There was no night sky to judge him this time, just clear blue of a cold January day. Part of Martin regretted choosing to meet Jon outside but the rest of him didn’t care. There wasn’t any snow to worry about thankfully and in the warm rays of the sun the chill hardly seemed noticeable, especially when compared to the ache in his heart. He was staring out into the field ahead of him when he heard the sound of footsteps making their way to his spot on the hill. The person sat down next to Martin– close enough that he could reach out and take their hand if he wanted to. If he was weak enough to. “Hi Jon.”

 

“Hello Martin,” Jon said, voice soft and tense. “I… I think we have some things to discuss.”

 

Martin sighed, finally turning to face Jon. “Yes… I suppose we do.”

 

Silence ran thick between them, a tension that seemed unbreakable until Jon finally whispered, “Will you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Martin all but shouted, trying to figure out where Jon could’ve gotten that idea from. “You… You were wonderful, Jon. Absolutely wonderful. Kind and considerate and… You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

He thought this would reassure Jon, that this would take the edge off of whatever guilt seemed to be clawing at his chest, but instead this seemed to break Jon further. “So why break up with me then? If I didn’t do anything wrong, if I was as wonderful as you claim why… Why divorce me? Why throw away all of this?”

 

“Because it isn’t real, Jon!” Martin yelled, feeling the first signs of tears pricking at his eyes. “Because it isn’t real and it can never be real, no matter how desperately I want it to be.”

 

“Martin–”

 

“I love you. I love you so much that it aches in my chest and… I didn’t always, I think you know that. It snuck up on me, just like being your friend did. But… But I think it’s always been lurking below the surface of my skin, just waiting for me to acknowledge it. And I know, I know, you’ll tell me that you care about me and you want to be my friend and that you don’t want Peter to try anything but… But that isn’t the love I’m after. It’s not the love you’re after either and I just… I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness. You should’ve seen the way love flowed from you yesterday, Jon. I could barely see for all the love in your heart permeating the house. And I can’t compete with that, I can’t… I’m the god of love. When I see something like that, who am I to stand in its way? Daisy… She's very lucky. To be on the receiving end of love like that… It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I can’t even be angry, not when I know how happy you’ll be together.”

 

The tears were flowing freely now, so quickly that Martin could barely see which is why he was so shocked to feel the rough skin of Jon’s hand against his cheek, wiping away the tears and turning Martin’s face back to his. “Martin… Daisy is my best friend, my oldest friend. She has been with me through some of my lowest points and some of my highest points. I care for her dearly, love her with all of me,” Jon said softly, hand still resting against Martin’s face. Martin closed his eyes, bracing for the next words to come. “And still she’s nothing in comparison to you.”

 

Martin’s eyes snapped back open, instantly being met with that same soft smile Martin had been falling in love with for months now without realizing. “You- she- what?”

 

Jon laughed, the quiet sort of laugh that let Martin know he was laughing with him, that he was surprised but not upset, the kind that could be described with phrases like ‘the tinkling of bells’ if Martin were to write poetry about it. “You thought you were seeing my love for Daisy, but you were wrong, Martin. You were seeing my love for you . Of course I love you, how could I not? You… From the moment I saw you, all those months ago at the Solstice party, I knew you were different. There was just something about you that caught my attention in ways that no one ever had before. When Elias explained to me that you’re the god of love, I assumed it was that; just the natural charm of a love god making my head go a bit weird. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way you tried to talk me out of marrying you despite it being the only thing you thought would protect you from Peter. It was the way you snapped at me, making me realize I needed to talk to you instead of ignoring any growing feelings in my chest as I assumed you wouldn’t want to be seen with me. It was the way you smiled when I cooked for you and held my hand as we walked places and listened as I rambled, never once interrupting to tell me to stop. I loved you from the moment I saw you– not because you were the god of love but because you were kind . The hardest thing in the world has been pretending I didn’t love you, pretending that our friendship was based on platonic love and not the romance I wanted from you. I wanted to woo you, Martin Blackwood, to make you feel as loved as you deserved. I was so scared that I messed it all up.”

 

Jon’s voice had grown quiet by the end of his little speech, the telltale signs of tears appearing in his eyes. Martin, copying Jon’s motion from before, placed a hand to his cheek, drawing Jon’s eyes to him. “I thought for certain you wouldn’t love me. I… It’s difficult to be the god of love, always hard to tell if people are falling for you because you’re you or because you have some sort of draw over them due to your powers. Not once in my life have I felt like people have wanted me, let alone wanted me for the right reasons. I trusted that if you wanted me, it would be for the right reasons, I just… I never believed this was something I could have.”

 

“Your happiness is my highest priority,” Jon whispered. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

 

“Oh, Jon,” Martin said, rising to his feet and pulling Jon up and into his arms. “You already have.”

 

This wasn’t their first kiss– that had been at the wedding. This, however, was the first kiss that truly mattered. Jon’s lips were slightly rough against Martin’s, arms wrapped around Martin’s neck and holding him close in a way that– with any other person– might’ve pulled the kiss into the realm of heady desire. With Jon, though, the weight of his arms against Martin’s neck was simply a brilliant and reassuring closeness. They weren’t in this for anything more than the kiss; not now, maybe not ever. When they finally pulled away, gasping for breath not from passion but from soft desire, from not wanting to pull away from each other as if fearing the other would disappear with the breaking of the kiss.

 

But they were still there, holding each other on the top of the hill overlooking the rest of Olympus.

 

Jon slid his hand into Martin’s, starting to guide him down the hill and towards the cottage– their cottage. “Come on, let’s go home.”

 

It was too early to go to sleep, the clock above the door as they entered showing it was just before one o’clock, and yet Martin allowed himself to be dragged into Jon’s room and shuffled under the covers. Jon all but latched himself to Martin’s side, nestling himself into the crook of Martin’s arm and leaning up to peck him on the cheek. He wasn’t certain why Jon had dragged him to bed but soon enough Martin felt his eyes drifting shut, the weight of his husband in his arms enough to lull him to sleep.

 

When he awoke again the sky had turned dark and the moon was peeking in through the window. Jon grumbled as Martin tried to shake him awake, insisting that they needed to eat something and could go back to sleep again later. It wasn’t until he was sleeping with Jon in his arms that he realized how difficult sleep had been to come by lately; he imagined it was much the same for Jon if how long the two of them slept said anything. 

 

They cooked together in relative silence– the only sounds being the soft sounds of cooking and the even softer sound of Jon humming. It wasn't burning as intensely today, but Martin could still look and see the purple that seemed to emanate from Jon's chest, stretching towards Martin. It was like Jon's heart was reaching for Martin and Martin knew that if he could look at his own aura he would see his heart reaching back. As Jon clicked off the stove, plating their food, Martin pressed a kiss to his cheek, wrapping his arms around Jon. “Martin, I’m going to drop the food you woke me up for.”

 

“I did help, you know,” Martin teased, letting Jon go only after kissing him once more. “Thank you for cooking, love.”

 

The plate Jon was setting down hit the table a little harder than he clearly intended if the sound was anything to go by. He looked at Martin with slightly dazed eyes. “Oh, I… I quite like that, actually.”

 

“What’s that love?” Martin teased once more, watching the way Jon’s cheeks darkened. “Never thought the god of the forge would melt so easily over pet names.”

 

Jon glared at him, no actual heat behind the look as they started to eat. Martin knew the best way to do things would be to take things slow; they had only just confessed their feelings after all, it would be wrong to rush things. And yet here, feeling the beat of Jon's heart from across the table and seeing the purple that seemed to shine from within him, there was part of him that wanted nothing more than to take Jon’s hand in his and ask if he wanted to actually be Martin’s husband.

 

So he did.

 

“A wedding is meant to be special, that’s what you said before, right?” Martin asked. Jon nodded, looking at Martin reverently. “Could we… Could we try again? Please?”

 

Jon stood up, walking away from Martin. For a moment, Martin’s heart dropped, fearing he had ruined things. But Jon returned with the rings he had shown Martin all those months ago. “For real this time,” Jon said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

 

Martin dropped his fork, nodding quickly as Jon took the ring Elias had given them off of Martin’s finger and slid on the silver ring he made himself, pearl gleaming far more brightly than any precious stone Elias could’ve seen fit for the two of them. After Jon slid the ring on, Martin stood up, grabbing Jon’s hand and dragging him toward the door. “What– Martin! If you’re just going to not eat, you could’ve let me sleep, you know!”

 

The night air was cold on Martin’s face, hundreds of stars twinkling brightly up above them. Martin held Jon’s hand– burnt and scarred and fully Jon– in his, looking up at the sky above. He could tell that Jon was about to question if Martin had fallen into madness when Martin started to speak. “Hello, primordial goddess Nyx.” He heard Jon gasp from his side, Martin squeezing Jon’s hand a touch tighter as if trying to urge him to be patient. “I, um… My name is Martin Blackwood, but I think you know that already. Over the past half a year, I’ve been lucky enough to be married to your son. It… As you can probably imagine, it wasn’t what either of us had planned for our lives at the time, but we made it work. It was a marriage of convenience, to get Elias off of Jon’s back and Peter off of mine. But… But it’s become so much more than that. 

 

“I love your son, primordial goddess Nyx. And I don’t use that word lightly, not with my position on Olympus. And while we have been married for some time now, I would like to do this again and properly this time. To show him I love him and to allow him to show me that he loves me. Would… It would be an honor, primordial goddess, if you would give me your blessing to marry your son. To allow me to cherish him as he is meant to be cherished for the rest of our eternities.”

 

The air was still and silent for a moment, making Martin fear he had been foolish in his pleas to the sky; after all, Jon did say that he called his mother. For all he knew, Nyx wasn’t even listening, couldn’t even hear him through the night sky up above. Martin was about to apologize to Jon when a feeling of intense affection seemed to burst from the sky and straight into Martin’s chest. Jon’s phone buzzed quietly in his pocket; he took one look at the screen before handing it to Martin. “This one's for you, I think.”

 

“Hello, primordial goddess,” Martin said softly, barely believing what was happening. 

 

“I think anyone who loves my son so unreservedly holds the right to call me Nyx, don’t you agree?” Nyx did not sound at all like Martin expected. Her voice was soft and low, like the crackling of fire or a drumbeat thrumming in his chest. He should’ve expected how low it was given how low Jon’s voice was, but still. There was something innately powerful about Nyx’s voice, not unlike the power held in Jon’s voice. And here she was, telling Martin to call her by her first name as though she couldn’t smite him if she so desired. “It’s been quite some time since someone tried to reach me by speaking to the sky. I’m touched.”

 

His nerves were racing, but Jon held firmly to his hand, steadying Martin with his touch. “It didn’t really occur to me that I should try the phone until after I had already done it,” Martin admitted sheepishly. “I… I knew you were up there. I just thought it would be the easiest way to reach you.”

 

“You truly are something special, Martin Blackwood,” Nyx said with a laugh that seemed to echo even over the phone. “You have asked for my blessing, something no one on Olympus has thought worthwhile in centuries. May I ask why you’ve done this?”

 

Martin sighed, steeling his nerves. “You’re his mother. It… My relationship with my mother was never one of kindness, not the way I know your relationship with Jon to be. You gave up your chance to raise him to allow him to thrive, you rarely get to see him because your love for him mattered more than keeping him close. It’s not fair to keep you from being involved in his life, especially not an aspect as big as this.”

 

“But you’d marry him even if I said no, wouldn’t you?” Nyx asked flatly.

 

“I… yes, I would. Because I love him and nothing you say would change that.”

 

Nyx let out another echoing laugh. “I quite like you, Martin Blackwood. You will take good care of my son, I’m sure of it.”

 

“Does that mean–”

 

“Yes, Martin. You may marry my son. Thank you. Thank you for including me.” The line clicked off before Martin could comment any further on that. He turned to Jon who was looking at him nervously.

 

“What did she say?”

 

Martin took Jon’s hands into his, pressing a kiss to the back of each of his hands. “We’re getting married, love. For real this time.”

Notes:

They're in love <3 Apologies again for the angst yesterday and for making you wait til today but gods imagine if I made y'all wait a WEEK like that originally would've been I think someone would've killed me for it /j Last chapter and the epilogue are going up tomorrow! I can't wait for y'all to see it <3

Chapter 10: Another Wedding

Notes:

Hi my name is Pine I have no sense of self control and lack patience so y'all are getting the last chapter today <3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Instead of throwing themselves into planning something for the next few weeks the way their original wedding was set up, Jon quietly asked Martin if they could take their time on this one. 

 

“Winter won’t be over for a while still, and it will take until at least April for the flowers in the garden to start blooming in full and–”

 

“The flowers?” Martin asked, mind immediately racing to his own thoughts of flower crowns and being married beneath his beloved cherry blossom tree.

 

Jon blushed, just the slightest bit, looking away from Martin. “I, well… I suppose I just thought it would be… Romantic? To be married outside with all the flowers in bloom, perhaps as the sun is beginning to set so that we can celebrate with the others beneath the light of the stars. But if that’s too much, too fanciful or–”

 

Martin pulled Jon into his arms, all but crushing the forge god against his chest. “Jon, you’ve practically described the wedding of my dreams just now. No idea is too fanciful, not if you like it. I would love to wait, to wait for that perfect moment for the both of us, okay?”

 

“If you’re sure,” Jon said softly, nuzzling into Martin’s chest. Martin placed a kiss to the top of his head, running a hand through his hair. “I just want things to be better for you this time.”

 

“They already are, Jon. I promise.”

 

The good thing about waiting until April for their wedding was it gave them time to adjust to actually being together for real. Again, Martin knew he should’ve waited before plunging directly into a real marriage with Jon, but it wasn’t as though they weren’t already married so what was the point of waiting? He had already waited long enough for something to feel real in his life, he wasn’t going to sit around waiting on Jon once again, especially not when Jon was already on board.

 

When he tried explaining all of this to Melanie, she just rolled her eyes at him. “Only you could feel the need to justify getting married to your husband again, I swear.”

 

“I just don’t want you to think we’re rushing into things–”

 

Melanie grabbed his shoulders, looking like she could shake him but she didn’t. “Martin. Of course you’re rushing into things, your entire marriage was you rushing into things. I’m not going to judge you just because you’re now rushing into something you actually want .” The conviction and understanding in her voice put Martin at ease. “I’m happy for you, Martin. Genuinely. You deserve this, and we’re going to do whatever it takes to help you get it, okay?”

 

As it turned out, planning a wedding was much easier when having friends around who are just as invested in your wedding as you are.

 

“Am I making you a new suit then, Martin?” Gerry asked the next time Martin was at the house, Tim and Sasha talking to Jon in the background about the potluck that Martin had always dreamed about having for his wedding. “A suit that you actually want this time?”

 

Martin blushed. “Was I that obvious last time?”

 

“I believe your exact words were ‘there needs to be at least something simple about this whole affair’ which does not exactly inspire confidence that you were getting the suit you wanted. So, talk it through with me; what are you actually looking for?”

 

The suit of Martin’s dream wedding had always been the softest shade of pink, the kind that almost looked white until you realized there was just enough color in it to classify it as pink. It had flowers scattered across the soft pink background, mostly in reds and blues, with green leaves just barely visible beneath the petals of the flowers. He always imagined having a dark red cape he could attach to the shoulders for the actual ceremony, flowing behind him like the long train of a dress. And, of course, he had pictured a crown of pink and orange roses on his head, something that felt a little silly to say out loud but had stood in every facet of his imagination as he pictured his perfect wedding. 

 

As he described this to Gerry, the god of the underworld simply nodded. “Consider it done, Martin.”

 

Gerry took his measurements again, promising to send pictures as he got to work if Martin wanted them before his fitting. Martin thanked him profusely, only to be waved off with a hug that felt more like a promise that things would be better this time. When he and Jon finally went home after a day of planning with Gerry, Tim, and Sasha, Martin all but collapsed onto the bed, pulling Jon into his arms almost immediately. “So what were you and Gerry talking about, love?” Jon murmured, face pressed up against Martin’s chest.

 

“Just my suit. Gerry made my suit for our last wedding too, but I wanted something… more special for this one.”

 

“The suit of your dream wedding?” Jon teased playfully. Martin had let certain aspects of dreaming about weddings slip to Jon, who had never once dreamed he would be married at all. They existed on complete opposite ends of that spectrum and yet here they were, getting married all over again. “I’m glad you’re finally getting the wedding you’ve always wanted, Martin. The one you deserve.”

 

Jon had a habit of absolutely melting Martin’s heart with his sweetness. The rest of Olympus might think him callous and cruel and too stuck in his own head. But Martin knew that Jon was much more than the people of Olympus thought of him; he was kind and loving and Martin felt so lucky to have him in his life.

 

What amazed him even more was knowing that Jon felt the exact same way about Martin.

 

“And what is your suit going to look like for the wedding this time around?” Martin teased, knowing that Jon more than likely would just reuse the plain grey suit from their first wedding.

 

“I think I’ll leave that to be a surprise if that’s alright. I mean, I don’t know anything about your suit either, might as well make this a fun surprise for both of us,” Jon sounded slightly anxious about the whole thing so Martin didn’t push, simply choosing to wrap his arms a little tighter around Jon and marvel in the way Jon relaxed against his skin.

 

When they finally settled on the date for their wedding– the fourteenth of April– it all came down to the small details. Flowers, guests, food, all the ‘fun’ things in Martin’s eyes. It was going to be a small, intimate affair like Martin had always wanted, just Tim, Gerry, Sasha, Melanie, Georgie, Daisy and Basira. Jon seemed hesitant when asking if he could invite Daisy, but Martin promised that he wanted Jon’s friends there as well. “This is your day too, Jon. Of course Daisy and Basira should be there if that’s what you want.”

 

With the guest list settled, Jon pointed out another thing they were missing. “We need an officiant.”

 

“Do we really? I mean, it’s not like this is legally binding in any way,” Martin said offhandedly as he helped Jon cut up potatoes to make dinner for their friends. They were having a little engagement party of sorts, all of their future wedding guests coming over to discuss the wedding itself and the potluck to follow. As Martin continued to chop vegetables, he realized Jon had gone oddly quiet. “Jon?”

 

“What if it was legally binding?”

 

“Well, we’d have to invite Elias then I think, and you know how he gets–”

 

“Or we could just mess with his paperwork.”

 

Martin set the knife down, turning to face his now-and-future husband. “What on Olympus are you talking about, Jon?”

 

“Sasha is in and out of the records room all the time with deliveries and the like. Perhaps she could just… steal us a new marriage license and then slide it in place of the old one. Then everything would be legal and real, like we’re really starting over. I… It’s silly, but I like the idea of all of our papers saying our actual anniversary, the anniversary that really matters. Don’t you think it’s at least worth asking her about?”

 

Sasha was, of course, fully on board. “A chance to pull off an actual heist? As if I could possibly say no to that. As for an officiant… Well, he’s a bit of a fool at times but I bet my beloved husband Tim could do quite the ceremony for you.”

 

Tim perked up at the mention of his name. “You need an officiant for your wedding?”

 

Martin looked at Jon who simply shrugged, nodding in agreement. “If you don’t mind, Tim.”

 

Tim all but leapt over the couch to pull Jon and Martin into a big hug. “I would love to, are you kidding me? This will be so much fun! I promise I’ll take things seriously, I just… I was rooting for you two this whole time and now to see it working out? You could almost bring a tear to my eye.”

 

“Are you sure you want to go with king drama for your officiant?” Melanie called from the couch. “I would hate for the two of you to be upstaged at your own wedding.”

 

“No one will be able to upstage Martin in the suit I’m making him and that’s a promise. Well, it’s most of a promise. I don’t know what Jon is wearing or where he’s getting it from,” Gerry said pointedly, staring down Jon who looked away innocently. “But my dear wife is, in fact, right, Melanie. My brilliant husband Tim will perform quite the ceremony.” Sasha kissed Gerry on the cheek, smiling brightly at Melanie who just shrugged, nestling herself further into Georgie’s side.

 

With all of that settled, it was now simply a matter of actually waiting for the wedding day to come. That, as it turned out, was the bad part of waiting until April to get married. The flowers would be beautiful and the event itself would be wonderful, but the waiting…

 

The waiting was honestly killing Martin.

 

“Are you ever tempted just to move everything up and have an even smaller wedding than we’ve already got planned?” Jon asked one night as they were laying in bed. Jon was being the big spoon for once– well, as big of a spoon as the smaller man could be. This meant his face was just beside Martin’s ear as he asked this, chin on Martin’s shoulder as he held Martin close to his chest. “I know we’re technically already married, but I want to do things right and I’m almost sick of waiting for our opportunity to do so.”

 

Martin shuffled around to face Jon, cupping his hand against his cheek. “Gods, I’m glad I’m not the only one who is starting to get sick of waiting. I just want to take off this awful ring from Elias already and replace it with the one you made me. I want to hold you close and know you’re actually my husband in every way that truly matters.”

 

Jon pressed a kiss to Martin’s palm. “You were the one who decided we should wear the Elias wedding rings until the actual wedding, you know.”

 

“And I was a fool for suggesting it but I’m sticking to it,” Martin said petulantly. “We’re almost there, Jon. Just a little longer. I hate waiting too but… I think it’ll be worth it.”

 

“Of course it’ll be worth it. I’ll be marrying you after all.”

 

The love that crashed into Martin’s chest with Jon’s words was enough to carry him through to the actual wedding day, the months between passing by in a flash of planning and working and holding each other at night, waiting for the day it all became truly permanent in a way that truly mattered to them.

 

Tim came to fetch Jon early in the morning on the day of their wedding, promising to return him in one piece for the ceremony. “We wouldn’t want you two ruining your suit surprises for each other, would we?”

 

Martin sighed. “I suppose not.” He pressed one last kiss to Jon’s lips before Tim was taking him away and Melanie and Georgie were taking his place. “You know, the wedding isn’t until sunset, we really don’t need to be getting ready this early.”

 

“Oh, we’re not here to help you get ready!” Georgie said cheerily, setting the Admiral down in Martin’s lap before backtracking. “I mean, we are here to help you get ready but right now is mostly about making sure you don’t go running off after Jon.”

 

“Security detail,” Melanie joked, holding up a wrapped hanger in her hand.. “And suit delivery, since Gerry didn’t want to risk Jon seeing it if Tim were the one to drop the suit off.”

 

The suit truly was a work of art. Gerry somehow managed to take every detail Martin had given him before and pulled the suit straight out of Martin’s dreams into reality. He ran his hand over the soft fabric, feeling some of the flowers that had been embroidered on. Not all of the flowers had been– just a few for Martin to fiddle with when he got nervous. He couldn’t wait to thank Gerry properly for it, though he silently thought no words could possibly describe how much he adored the suit his friend had made for him.

 

Melanie and Georgie managed to distract Martin with the Admiral until the sun was starting to lower in the sky. “Come on, lover boy, time to get ready,” Melanie teased, pulling out the flower crown and setting it gently on Martin’s head. “You’ll have to get out of the house once Tim, Sash, and Gerry arrive. Can’t risk you seeing your husband, after all.”

 

Even though they were already married, the word still sent a fluttering bit of excitement up Martin’s spine. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

 

Martin had already gotten his dramatic walk down the aisle, now it was Jon’s turn. After putting on his suit, Martin went to stand outside beneath the cherry blossom tree, the breeze knocking a few petals to the air and fluttering to the ground as he waited. Daisy and Basira were already seated, as was Sasha who gave Martin a big grin. Gerry joined her soon after, holding Cerberus in his lap while Melanie and Georgie settled in their seats with the Admiral. 

 

Tim took his place beside Martin, patting him on the shoulder. “Are you ready, Marto?”

 

“More than.”

 

The back door to the cottage opened to reveal Jon. He wasn’t in the grey suit that Martin assumed he would reuse– in fact, he wasn’t in a suit at all. Instead, Jon was wearing a stunning dark blue dress that seemed to be spotted with stars. With the setting sun behind them bringing in the shade of night, Martin could almost make out the exact constellations that seemed to dot Jon’s dress; it seemed Nyx was capable of crafting more than just the night sky. Or, at the very least, taking that night sky to make a dress for Jon. The fabric of the dress pooled at his feet, though it looked more like smoke or shadow than actual fabric. His hair was braided, resting against the heart-like top of the dress. As Jon moved closer, Martin could see the faintest hint of silver around his eyes, as though Gerry had done Jon’s makeup.

 

He was absolutely stunning and Martin could hardly believe he was about to marry him again.

 

“People of Olympus who actually matter!” Tim started, looking out into the small crowd of their friends. “We are gathered here today to join Jon and Martin in marriage once again, for real this time. I’m not going to bore you with an explanation of marriage like a certain king of the gods, don’t worry. Instead, I am going to turn it over to our lovely pair here who have written some words for each other. Jon?”

 

“I didn’t know what to do when we first married, Martin. I thought the simplest solution would be to give you space from me, to give you the freedom to live your life separate from me, a man who certainly wasn’t worthy of being your husband. That, of course, was the wrong thing to do. You didn’t want a husband, that much is true, but you wanted a friend. I thought being your friend would be the best thing to happen in my life. What I didn’t count on was the fact that you might love me back. It was impossible not to love you, I hope you know. You were bright and vibrant and so completely perfect that I felt out of my depths. But you saw me, you talked to me, you befriended me, you chose to love me. It’s the greatest honor in my life to call you my husband, to be able to love you and to hold you and to exist in your presence. I will love you for all of my days, Martin. Because you deserve to be loved and I insist upon being the one to love you.”

 

Martin could hardly see through the tears sliding their way down his face, only to be brushed aside by the gentle touch of Jon’s hand. “I never thought I could be so lucky as to find someone who loves me so completely,” Martin whispered, forgetting everything he had originally planned to say and choosing instead to speak from his heart. “You have shown me great kindness since the moment we met– something I honestly wasn’t always worthy of. You put me first at every step, even when it didn’t feel like it. I… It’s hard to say when I fell in love with you, but I know for certain when it all finally clicked. You were sitting on the couch, surrounded by our friends and I just knew that you fit perfectly into my life. That I wanted you to fit perfectly into my life. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else or anyone fitting nearly as well as you did. I have seen hundreds upon hundreds of romances over the years, and never once have I seen a love as powerful as the love I have for you and the love you have for me. You are my everything, Jon. You are my everything and I’d happily spend a million lifetimes proving that to you.”

 

Now it was Martin’s turn to wipe the tears from Jon’s eyes, leaving his hand against Jon’s cheek for an extra second as Jon leaned into it. It wasn’t until Tim very casually cleared his throat that Martin snapped back into reality and realized they did, in fact, have a wedding to finish.

 

“I now invite our two love birds to present their rings. Jon, after you.”

 

“Martin,” Jon said, pulling out the ring of braided silver topped with a beautiful pearl and sliding it onto Martin’s finger. “I give you this ring just as I give you my life, a promise of forever.”

 

Martin took out Jon’s ring– braided Damascus steel with a polished piece of jade on it. “Jon. I give you this ring in return just as I give you my life. A promise of forever.”

 

“I now pronounce you husbands– again! You may kiss the groom!”

 

This was not the first time Martin had kissed Jon. It wasn’t the second, or third, or any number that would come to Martin’s brain without thinking about it for a very long time. And yet, it felt like the first. It felt like a sign of something new. The memory of the brief touch of lips from their original wedding was being replaced with the feel of Jon’s lips against Martin’s now– the way Jon held onto him as though Martin were the only thing keeping him grounded. When they pulled apart, Jon laughing slightly and looking up at Martin with joy shining through his features, Martin knew this was real. This was real and nothing could change that.

 

Later– after the potluck dinner and dancing and hugs from friends and sparklers lit under the light of a million stars– Martin would pull Jon into his arms and into bed with him. They would lay together and whisper sweet nothings to each other until Martin’s eyes grew heavy and Jon placed once last kiss for the evening on Martin's forehead. Martin would fall asleep with Jon wrapped in his arms, the promise of forever stretching ahead of them for real this time.

 

“I love you, Jon.”

 

“I love you too, Martin.”

Notes:

If y'all couldn't tell by quite a few of my fics lately, I'm really enjoying writing weddings and vows and stuff it's just the perfect excuse to be as sappy as I want to be

Speaking of sappy, my end notes for the epilogue are going to be SAPPY you have about a thousand words between you and my sap prepare for that

Chapter 11: Epilogue - Forged Bonds

Notes:

And we've reached the end :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“You don’t need to be afraid of it, Martin.”

 

“Like hell I don’t!” Martin was holding the tongs in a death grip, trying to be as careful as possible as Jon laughed softly beside him. “It’s metal that’s been sitting in fire for the past however long at this point, and you’re trying to tell me I don’t need to be afraid of it?”

 

Jon, for his part, moved to stand beside Martin once more, placing a gentle hand on Martin’s arm. “Yes, it’s metal that has been in the fire, but it’s also become much more malleable and while I don’t think you’ll actually be able to grip it so hard it dents, we should still be careful of that love. It’s not going to hurt you, I wouldn’t let that happen, okay?”

 

Martin felt Jon press his lips to his shoulder, some of the tension in Martin’s body releasing as he felt the gentle kiss from his husband. He managed to set the metal down on the anvil before the sound of knocking at the forge door came. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

 

“You know perfectly well you’re interrupting something, Elias,” Jon said flatly. Martin could tell that Jon was half tempted to slam the door in his uncle’s face. “Surely you can’t have another order for me already, I sent your last shipment of bolts a month ago.”

 

Elias held his hands up in innocence, a smirk on his face that told Martin he knew he wasn’t actually defusing the situation by doing so. “Relax, Jonathan, I’m actually here to speak with Martin.”

 

“With me?” Martin asked, grateful that he had already put down the piece of burning metal as it surely would’ve dropped from his hands at this point. “I–”

 

“It’s fine, Martin. We can continue our lesson some other time. You know he won’t leave until you talk to him anyway.” Jon cast a glare Elias’s way before turning his attention back to the anvil. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, Uncle. Good day.”

 

Elias closed the door to the forge as he led Martin into his own living room, sitting down on the couch in Martin’s preferred spot. “Sit, please, Martin. I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.” Martin sat down warily in Jon’s usual spot, wishing more than anything that Jon could be cuddled up beside him as Martin stared down Elias, waiting for whatever nonsense the king of the gods had planned this time. “As you know, your anniversary is coming up soon and–”

 

“No it’s not?”

 

“Obviously we’ll need to make a plan for– wait. What do you mean it’s not almost your anniversary? The seventh of July, it’s only a month away.” 

 

Martin made a mental note to tell Melanie that Elias does know the modern names of the months and absolutely just uses his overly verbose descriptions of the months to seem fancy before shaking his head at Elias. “That’s not my anniversary.”

 

“I beg your pardon.”

 

“Jon and I got married on the fourteenth of April.”

 

There was a giddy sort of pleasure rising in Martin’s chest as he watched Elias grow angrier, sputtering slightly. “That’s absolutely preposterous, Martin, I was at your wedding, I officiated your wedding, you got married in July and it’s a month away from your anniversary.”

 

He pretended to ponder that for a moment, before snapping his fingers. “Oh, that wedding. Elias, certainly you know that entire wedding was a sham, a ploy to get Peter to leave me alone. That’s not a real wedding or a real anniversary at all.”

 

“Martin, what in the name of Olympus are you talking about?” Elias’s tone was clipped, a scowl present on his face as he stared Martin down.

 

Instead of explaining, Martin simply held out his hand, watching as Elias realized he was not, in fact, wearing the impractical gold and ruby wedding ring Elias had picked out for Martin and Jon’s original wedding. He still couldn’t quite believe how perfectly the silver and pearl ring Jon made for him fit on his hand; Jon hadn’t even asked for a ring size, he just made the ring and it still somehow fit Martin. In many ways it reminded Martin of Jon; not asked for but still fitting perfectly into Martin’s life.

 

“...Fourteenth of April, you say?” Elias asked quietly. “You held the ceremony here, I take it?”

 

“Naturally.”

 

“I’m going to guess… Tim officiated?”

 

“Got it in one.”

 

“And Sasha snuck your updated marriage license into the records disguising it as a delivery.”

 

Martin was grinning at this point. “You’re quite good at this, Elias, are you sure you didn’t know this beforehand?”

 

Elias stood up, turning towards the door without another word. Martin got up as well, preparing to head back into the forge when he noticed Elias had stopped, hand still on the doorknob. “Congratulations, Martin. I’m truly glad this worked out for you, and… And I know you’ll take good care of my nephew. Better care than I ever took of him.” Elias was out the door before Martin could say anything else, leaving him with the softest feeling of approval and the slightest bit of fondness for the utter annoyance that was the king of the gods.

 

Jon seemed to have finished up whatever he was working on to teach Martin about forging in the time that Martin was away, now sitting behind his desk scribbling some plans on a loose sheet of paper. He stopped when Martin came in, getting up and wrapping his arms around Martin as if he hadn’t seen him in days rather than just a short passing of minutes. “And what did Elias want?”

 

“Oh, he was just saying something about how our anniversary is coming up.”

 

Jon scrunched his nose in mock confusion. “That’s preposterous. We’ve only just gotten married after all. You would think he’d know better than to try and trick the god of love into believing his anniversary was so shortly after his wedding.”

 

Martin threw his head back laughing, pulling Jon close and kissing him on the forehead. “I adore you, Jonathan Sims.”

 

“And I adore you, Martin Blackwood. Now, come on. Let’s try teaching you to make a knife again, shall we?”

Notes:

Thank you so so SO much to everyone who has been following along with this story! This is once again an example of me starting a project because I wanted to but finishing it because of the support I got from people reading it <3 Each of your comments absolutely made my day brighter and I couldn't have done this without you coming along on this journey with me.

To anyone who is finding this now that it's complete: I hope you've enjoyed! It was a huge labor of love and even bigger misuse of my degree!

As always, you can find me on tumblr under this username where I reblog a lot of nonsense and sometimes throw thoughts into the void. I've got some fun things planned for y'all that should be coming out soon (plus an army of jmart week fics in the works) so if you've enjoyed this, I hope you'll stick around <3

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required. If you couldn't tell by the intro notes, I'm really excited about sharing this AU with y'all! The idea really hit me out of nowhere but I've been running with it and honestly its practically writing itself at this point. In addition to this, I've got another couple fics in the work (another House in the Fog Covered Wood one shot and a little urban fantasy piece I'm working on) and I'm starting to plan out my stuff for jmart week 2022 so there will be a lot more coming from me soon than I originally planned at the beginning of the year (honestly I wouldn't have it any other way). As always, you can also find me on tumblr under this same username.

Gods
Elias - Zeus
Peter - Poseidon
Basira - Athena
Sasha - Hermes
Melanie - Ares
Daisy - Artemis
Georgie - Hestia
Tim - Apollo
Gerry - Hades