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When Martin had come to live in the archives, he hadn’t really expected that there would be someone else already living there.
He said as much to Jon, on his fourth night there and the third night that he’d found the head archivist holed up in his office after eight. Jon had huffed, unamused, but did thank him for the tea, voice softer than Martin had heard before.
It was… perplexing. The only conclusion Martin could draw was that his boss wasn’t quite as much of an asshole as he’d thought. That was an inconvenient thought, so he tried to ignore it, but Jon had mellowed out considerably since Martin had moved in.
Mellowed out enough that Martin felt safe to nag him about his habits, if only a little. “You do need to go home, you know.” He said from the doorway. “You’re not gonna get rid of the circles under your eyes with more statements.”
“Yes, I know, I-” He stopped mid-snap, and took a deep breath. “Sorry. You’re right, I’m… I’ll head home soon.”
Martin nodded, then paused before leaving. He’d had friends who got sucked into things like Jon did. “Um… would you like a reminder, at- at a certain time?”
Jon looked up at him. Fuck, his eyes were deep.
Jon considered it. “Ah, I think the last train I can catch leaves at nine-thirty? So, if I’m not packing up by nine…”
Martin shook himself. “Yeah, yeah sure! Um- consider it done.”
Against all reason, Jon felt himself smile. “Thank you, Martin.”
Oh, he had a cute smile. “No worries!” Martin said, trying for casual and probably failing. Shit shit shit! Without saying anything more, he fled.
Shit. It was bad enough having some passing acknowledgment that his mean boss was kind of hot, it was another to start getting lost in his eyes and having stomach flips over his smile.
Stop it. He begged himself internally. Just because he’s started being civil doesn’t mean you have to fall over yourself for him!
Part of Martin knew though. He was doomed.
--
Martin had been through a lot. Jon knew that. He also knew that it was almost entirely his fault. He’d pushed Martin into taking more and more risks to prove himself, had admitted as much himself, and nothing had made Jon feel quite that sick in a long time.
He was trying to be better. It was hard not to snap sometimes, Martin’s good-natured inquiries into his health feeling unbearably patronising, but Jon tried to stay patient. Martin might be coping well given the circumstances, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been through something traumatic.
All that said, when Martin carefully cracked his office door open one night with a cup of tea and a quietly cheerful, “Knock knock.” Jon couldn’t stop himself.
His hand slammed onto his desk in shock, making both of them jump. “Must you- shit, sorry, sorry.”
Martin was blinking at him. Jon chose to interpret it as surprise at his outburst rather than at his apology.
He swallowed. “I shouldn’t have- have snapped, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Martin said that too quickly. He always did, Jon had noticed. He looked down. “Look, I know it’s not the- the most professional, it’s just… knocking on doors has been sort of getting to me lately.”
If Jon had less self-control, he might have laughed. “I… understand.”
Something in Martin’s face relaxed. It was a nice look on him. “So, it’s- it’s okay if I say that. I-instead?”
Jon cringed. How did he even begin to explain? “I… is there any alternative?” He felt like he was begging. He wished it didn’t feel like that.
Martin frowned, and entered the room fully, placing the tea on Jon’s desk and sitting in the free chair usually used by statement givers. “Um, probably? Is it, is it the talking? Don’t want me interrupting a statement?”
God, that would be convenient, wouldn’t it? “N-no, there’s um- interludes in statements all the time.”
“Okaaay.” Jon stared at the cup of tea in front of him. It was easier than looking at those big blue eyes. Martin sighed softly. “Um, can you tell me what it is that you don’t like about me saying… that?”
Jon’s throat was suddenly bone dry. He took a sip of the tea, burning his tongue but helping him gain some courage at least. “The words.”
He waited for Martin to ask, to laugh, to push or say something about how ridiculous that was. Instead, he nodded. “What if I just said hello instead?”
What?
“What?”
Martin fidgeted. “I just thought… if it’s me saying the words that’s a problem, then I could say… something else?”
Jon stared.
“Look if that’s not- if it’s not a good idea-”
“No!” Jon yelped, coming back to himself. “No, yes, um, that- that should be fine, yes.”
Martin nodded. “Okay good, and you- um- you’re alright with me not… tapping on the door.”
“Of course.”
“Cool.” He gave a little smile and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll um- leave you to it.”
“Thank you.” Jon felt frozen. He felt like he had to say something; part of him wanted to tell Martin all of it, about the book he’d found as a child and the horrors contained in it. Why he felt that way, Jon couldn’t fathom. He hadn’t told anyone about that before, but he wanted Martin to know. At the very least, so that he felt less alone after his own terrors.
But God, actually opening up? He’d never been able to do that. “M-Martin!” He burst out, before he could leave, noting how Martin stopped at the door. “I-I do understand… how it feels.”
Martin watched him for a moment, then smiled sadly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He murmured, and slipped out.
--
Much as Martin was sure Jon wouldn’t like to admit it, they had gotten closer. Lunches had started appearing for him at shockingly regular intervals, in conjunction with Martin ordering extra take-out of an evening, sliding noodles or pasta or curry onto Jon’s desk along with an evening cup of tea. Jon had mellowed considerably since Martin had moved in. Probably because someone had been making sure he actually went home of an evening and ate something, he mused.
It was more than that though. Jon was… kind. Martin would never have believed it before, but he was kind and awkward and adorable.
That last part was horribly inconvenient, but it was still an improvement.
They were more familiar now, Martin could tease Jon without feeling like he was being misunderstood, and he’d started to notice the subtle twitch of Jon’s cheek that meant he was joking or having Martin on. It was nice. Martin would even say they were friends.
And as Jon’s friend…
“You have to go home!”
“Martin it’s fine, honestly, I went home last night, got plenty of rest!”
Martin groaned, “You’re supposed to go home every night!”
Jon frowned, then pouted thoughtfully. “Well, that doesn’t sound right.”
Fuck you, no. Martin thought, fighting a grin. It wasn’t funny, it wasn’t cute, no matter how hard Jon tried to make it either of those things. He could see the sparkle in Jon’s eyes and the ghost of a smirk that told Martin he had noticed him trying not to smile.
Fine. Fine. If Jon was going to use his dumb cute face to get out of this, Martin could use his own tricks as well. “If you think I won’t carry you out of here, you’re sorely mistaken.” He said loftily.
Jon’s eyes narrowed. He appeared to be appraising the situation. “You’re bluffing.”
Martin laughed. “Oh, am I?” He took a step forward, delighting in how Jon drew back.
He swallowed. “I’m your boss.” But there was no bite, no annoyance. His voice was flimsy and weak and… oh? Was Jon now the one fighting against a smile?
“Mmm, I’m not actually on the clock at the moment.” Martin said. “Neither are you. In fact, I’ve got permission to be here after hours, you’re technically trespassing.”
Oh, there it was, nervousness leading Jon’s little smile to sneak through. “You-you have permission from me!”
Martin tutted. “Well, unfortunately Jon, you don’t have my permission to be here after hours, and as there’s no security guards here at this exact moment, I’ll have to do that job myself and remove you from the premises.”
Jon wheeled his office chair away with a snicker. He knew there wasn’t any real escape, but he’d known that from the moment he’d engaged Martin in this little argument of theirs. On one hand he sort of did want to get his work done, but on the other he liked his and Martin’s little fights. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him smile. Made him happy.
It also made him yelp, when Martin’s hands gripped him from behind and lifted him, struggling not to laugh from the sheer silliness, from his chair. Fingertips curled into his ribcage, making Jon snort and try to double over, and burst out, “Aahaha- don’t tickle!”
Martin stilled, and Jon realised he’d just made a terrible mistake.
Martin blinked slowly, processing Jon’s protest. There was really only one reason he’d say that, wasn’t there? “What was that?”
Jon felt his face go warm. “I-um, nothing, nothing… will you put me down?”
A smug grin had started to spread across Martin’s cheeks. “I don’t know, it sounded to me like you said-”
“I said nothing!”
“That you’re ticklish.” Martin finished, still holding Jon up like a misbehaving cat.
Jon thanked God that a blush didn’t usually show on him and that Martin couldn’t see his expression. His face was on fire. Every twitch of fingers had him trying not to flinch or squeak or melt. He got the distinct feeling that he was doomed. “W-well I’m not. That would be um- faintly ridiculous.”
“Mmm? How’s that?”
“Ah, I-” Oh no, those fingers twitching more and more. He was definitely doomed. “I mean I’m, um, I’m a grown man after all, with a lot of- serious work to do, so it’s very unlikely that I’m…” Oh dear. He couldn’t say the word.
“Hmm?” Martin sounded so smug.
Jon wriggled and tried not to smile. “Martin please, my shoulders are starting to hurt.” It wasn’t true, but he hoped it was a believable enough lie to get him out of this.
“Oh! Right, sorry, of course.” Martin sounded genuinely surprised and concerned, making Jon feel a little guilty until he realised Martin’s solution was not, in fact, to put him down. Instead, he turned Jon around in his hold, now holding him in a bear hug. He grinned smugly. “Better?”
Jon cringed back as far as he could, ducking his head in embarrassment. No, this was not better. Now Martin could see everything, including his wobbly smile and his flushed cheeks. Not long ago, the thought of Martin seeing him like this would have been unbearable, but now it… well, it was still unbearable, but not in the same way.
Martin laughed quietly. “Alright, good! Now as I was saying before, you should really go home, you agree?”
This was an out, Jon realised dimly amidst the disconcertingly powerful urge to crush his face into that soft jumper. Martin was offering him a way out of this with his dignity somewhat intact. And yet… “But I’m almost done!” He said, squirming against Martin’s hold back towards his desk.
Martin sighed, sounding incredibly put-upon and utterly delighted all at once. “Alright, if you insist!”
The moment those soft fingers dug into his underarms, Jon let out a sound that could only be described as a scream, quickly devolving into loud cackling when Martin eased off to a gentler touch. It was mad, Jon had always been embarrassed by his laugh, it was never quite what he wanted it to be, all messy and snorting and high-pitched and loud.
Martin snickered. “You, um- you’re sure you’re not ticklish?”
Jon kicked his feet weakly, more to vent out the excess energy than anything else. He tried to convince himself that he hated this, wrapped up in a warm, soft hug with laughter being teased out of him, but no part of that was anything less than delightful.
That didn’t mean he was going to be quiet about it. “Nono- no, Martin plehease!”
“Ready to go home yet?” His fingers continued their agonisingly soft scratching, even through Jon’s cardigan it was enough to have him squealing.
Jon’s hands bunched in the back of Martin’s jumper, his eyes screwing shut from laughing. “This- this is cruel!”
“Uh huh?”
He landed a weak punch against Martin’s back when one hand migrated to pinch at his side and stomach, snorting helplessly. “AHA- c-cruel and unusual punishMENT!”
Martin laughed, not quite trusting that slipping a hand under Jon’s shirt would be okay. Little steps. “Say you’ll go home and I’ll stop.” It hadn’t escaped his notice that Jon’s protests had so far lacked any pleading for him to actually stop. Good God, he was cute when he laughed.
Those awful, wonderful fingers continued to play across his stomach, sides, and ribs, not digging in, not even really lingering on some of Jon’s apparently squeal-inducing spots, simply poking and wiggling up and down his torso enough to keep him in silly fits of laughter and squirming.
He hiccupped. “Ma-Martin wahahait!”
Martin’s fingers stilled. “Hmm?” Jon refused to look at him, hiding his face in his shoulder, but he sounded unbearably smug.
The smile wouldn’t go away. “U-um, common article three of the Geneva conventions actually prohibits cruel treatment and torture of um- of civilians, so technically you’re committing a war crime.”
It was silly. It was silly, Jon knew that, which was why when Martin burst out laughing, his only reaction was to bite his lip in anticipation.
He was doomed.
“Oooh, a war crime, huh?” Martin teased. “Hey, do you think they’ll throw me on trial at Nuremberg for this?”
And then his fingers were digging, vibrating into Jon’s ribcage, sending him right into screeching cackles that he had no chance of holding back even a little, kicking and squirming as Martin’s hands moved up and down, snorting and squealing whenever he found a tender spot and lingered there for a moment longer, his cheeks aching from the wild, silly smile painted across his face.
He felt shaken up, carbonated, bubbling over with laughter and giddiness that he’d normally never allow himself to feel, let alone have a cause to, but this? Jon barely had a choice in the matter, and wasn’t that just a little bit thrilling.
Barely though, as his bones melted into goo and his resolve wavered, he was aware that the helplessness was an illusion. He could stop this any time he wanted. And, regrettably, his stomach was starting to ache. “A-alright!” He snorted, batting at Martin’s hands as best he could. “I surrender!”
Martin chuckled and stilled his hands. “Alright, alright.” He said, giving Jon a moment to catch his breath before letting him down. Seeing Jon’s giddy, bashful grin made him feel all warm and fuzzy.
He took a half step away. “Sorry if I overdid it.”
Jon’s eyes widened and he immediately ducked his head to stare at the ground. Thankfully any of the heat in his cheeks could be blamed on a lack of oxygen, but that did nothing to help him figure out what to say now. He couldn’t be angry, even if he wanted to; he was still giddy and smiling after all. And he didn’t want to be angry, he didn’t want Martin to think that he’d hated that. It was fun. Nice to be close to someone in that playful way.
And besides, Martin was very warm.
Jon coughed, embarrassed. “It’s- ah, it’s alright.” He muttered, impressed at how relatively calm the words sounded. “I-I know it’s um- all in good fun.”
Martin tried to bottle his surprise. “Oh, um, yeah.” He grinned to himself. “Good.”
Jon hoped that he’d be able to hold onto this giddy, floating feeling at least until he got home. “I suppose I should be off, then.” Though as he went back to get his bag, he noted the slight wobbliness in his legs.
The snort from behind him said that Martin had noticed too. “Sure you don’t need a minute to catch your breath?”
Jon never usually smiled this much. “Apparently so.”
“Come sit in the breakroom with me then, I can make tea. Herbal tea.” He added pointedly.
Jon huffed a laugh. “Alright.” He said softly, feeling an odd burst of affection at the offer. Heard Martin’s footsteps retreat and briefly considered going back to work if only to aggravate him, before gathering his things and joining him in the breakroom.
He entered just as Martin was adding a spoonful of honey to each cup, and couldn’t resist. “Sugar, at this time of night? Martin, how ever will you sleep?”
“Oh, ha ha.” He rolled his eyes. “As if I could trust you to ever drink anything that doesn’t have sugar in.”
Jon held back his smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Uh huh, of course you don’t.” Martin said fondly, tossing the spoons in the sink and turning with both cups in hand. “Go on, sit down, you’re meant to be getting your energy back so you don’t collapse on the tube.”
Jon rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He liked how much closer he’d gotten with Martin. Liked their playful back and forth. “Thank you.” He said, taking the cup.
“Anytime.” Martin sat beside him.
“It almost is anytime.” Jon smiled, the steam swirling up into the air between them. “It’s… good of you, to make everyone tea all the time.”
Martin flushed, both hands gripping the burning ceramic. “It’s- it’s not a big deal.” He muttered. “It’s just tea.”
Jon shrugged. “It’s nice.”
“Oh.” Martin took a sip of his tea to buy time. “Um, thank you. I’m glad you like it.”
Jon smiled and had a sip of his own tea. “I do.”
Martin let out a contented sigh. “You’ve seemed… better, lately. More rested, I guess?”
There was laughter in Jon’s voice. “Well naturally, when someone’s forcing me out of here every day.”
“Oh, so I should be taking credit for you looking less like a zombie?”
“Now you’re just twisting my words.”
“Of course.” He grinned into his tea. “There’s obviously a different reason you’re suddenly getting enough sleep.”
Jon stifled a yawn. “For all you know I’ve just gotten a new mattress.”
“Mmm.” Martin hummed, putting his almost empty mug down. “Nice mattress?”
“Feather down.” Jon replied, sinking back into the couch.
Martin chuckled sleepily. “Feather mattress? Surely that’s too soft. Can’t be good for your back.”
“Maybe not.” Jon admitted, imagining the softness of such a mattress. Couldn’t be as comfortable as Martin’s jumper looked. “S’nice though.”
Martin’s limbs felt very heavy. “Sounds it.” He mumbled. It did. It was so easy to imagine being swallowed up by a big, soft, comfy pillow. Like sleeping in a cloud.
Yeah, he thought, letting his eyes rest for a moment. That would be nice.
--
Martin woke feeling quite well rested, slightly stiff, and a little cold. He shifted, blinking away the sleep from his eyes, and realised that he was still on the breakroom couch.
Ah.
And, it seemed, he was not the only one there. Jon was still there next to him, his head rested comfortably against Martin’s shoulder, one hand gripping his arm, almost cuddling it.
Before he had the time to process that, there was the subtle bang of the breakroom door, followed by what he could definitely hear as stifled giggles and shushing. Great.
Martin had just resolved to wake Jon when he started to blink awake himself, seemingly not terribly bothered by snuggling up to his coworker in his sleep. Or maybe just that groggy. “Mmm? Where- oh. I see.”
When Jon realised where he was, he shifted away, apparently awake in an instant. “U-um, I’m sorry about- about that, Martin, I um- didn’t mean to.”
Martin blinked, trying to process. Oh, of course. “Oh, uh, it’s okay,” He hoped it wasn’t obvious just how okay it was. “I mean you- it was an accident, not like your cardigan could keep you warm enough.”
“Oh… alright.” Jon hesitated, then huffed a laugh, sitting up. “How did forcing me to go home go, then?”
“Oh, shut up.” Martin groaned, shoving him. “Too early for this.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve got a change of clothes, at least.” Jon said, stretching and getting to his feet. He patted Martin gently on the shoulder. “Better luck next time!”
Martin pulled a face at him as he left, vowing revenge, and set about making himself a morning cup of tea. There was barely enough time for the kettle to click before the door opened again, this time to reveal a very smug sounding Tim. “So…”
Martin tried not to think about how Jon had snuggled up to him. Tried not to think about his eyes, his smile, oh god, his laugh? Martin had almost forgotten until that moment. That radiant smile, the squeaky, bubbly laugh. God it was so cute.
Wait…
He turned, holding up a finger to stop Tim before he could speak. “I have an offer for you.”
Tim crossed his arms, clearly amused. “Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hm!” Martin felt more confident as the seconds went by. “You don’t make fun of me for any of… that, and I’ll let you in on some fun gossip.”
Tim pulled a thoughtful face. “Hmmm, how fun are we talking?”
Martin smiled to himself. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Don’t suppose I can reserve judgement until after I’ve heard this hot goss.”
Martin stirred his tea, mulling it over. “As long as I can trust you to be fair.” He mused. There wasn’t really any chance that Tim wouldn’t be delighted by what he was about to tell him.
Tim chuckled, fishing his own mug out of the cabinet along with Sasha’s. “Hand to god, if I find this goss remotely hot, not a word about you and Jon all snuggled up.”
Just hearing the words had blood rushing to his cheeks. “Tim!” He choked, unable to come up with anything else.
He laughed, mussing Martin’s hair playfully. “Deal’s not valid until you give me the goss Martin!”
Martin batted at him, still flushed, but laughing as well. All in good fun, after all. Like Jon had said. He grinned at the counter. “Jon’s ticklish.”
Silence followed, confusing Martin for the moment. Was he wrong? Was Tim just going to tease him more, asking how he knew that? Did Tim know already? His brain had the chance to throw all those questions at him in the second it took for him to look up and register the look of stunned shock on Tim’s face.
“No.”
Martin grinned. “Yeah.”
“No!”
He snickered. “Yes! Really um- quite badly.”
Tim seemed caught between shock and delight. “No way! Mister bossman, stick up his arse, scowl-y face is ticklish?!”
Martin snorted. “I know.”
He stiffened. “And he never told me?!” With that outraged exclamation, Tim turned and barrelled out the door.
Martin let out a chuckle and, because Tim had just left them there, poured his and Sasha’s tea. And Jon’s for good measure.
He’d just stepped out into the main office when there was a loud screech from down the hall, followed by a triumphant laugh.
“Oh my god, it’s true!”
“Tim- Tim no let me go, Tim!”
That familiar bubbly laughter echoed through the archives, making Martin grin and Sasha giggle.
“MARTIN! Traitor! TRAITOR!” Jon shrieked dramatically.
Martin laughed, noting Sasha doing the same. “Sorry, what? Can’t hear you!”
Jon’s threats of vengeance were barely coherent through his giggly squeals, but Martin wasn’t terribly worried.
After all, it was all in good fun.