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It’s Martin’s fault, really. That's what Jon's telling himself as he unpacks his bag at the front of the classroom.
They’d been more or less settled into their lives for a few years now. The Change isn’t quite behind everyone—and lord knows it won’t ever really be behind him—but life has started to move on. They have a lovely little house together, just outside of London. Jon’s got a job as a lecturer at a nearby university, and Martin’s enrolled in some courses around his own library position.
Jon's job affords him the ability to work from home, and he's taken to working only half-days in his tiny office, preferring to spend his afternoons in the cozy space at the top of the house Martin designed for him. And Martin insists he was just worried about Jon getting lonely at home alone, that's all. Not to say Jon would've protested the idea, but, well, it would've been nice to do it together.
It goes back to a night last week.
Jon's in the kitchen making dinner when Martin comes home one day with overflowing shopping bags and a new backpack strapped to his back. Jon's not terribly concerned or suspicious about either of those things, not since Martin's been trying to do some redecorating the last few months. But then…there's a noise.
A muffled meow.
And Jon immediately freezes in kitchen doorway. His eyes rake over everything Martin's unloading and he realizes there's cat food and toys, a litter box and a collar, and he looks up at Martin's sheepish expression.
"My coworker, Cindy? Her cat had kittens, I told you, yeah?"
Jon nods, trying to contain his delight at where this is going.
"W-w-well, the kittens are ready to start going to new homes, and I volunteered to…to take one…" Martin trails off as Jon approaches in a few rapid steps.
"Where?" is all he asks.
Martin then carefully pulls the backpack off and turns it around to show Jon. Inside is a small, dark brown striped kitten. "This…this is Sasha," Martin says, setting the backpack on the table and starting to unzip it. "Her, her fur, it reminds me of, of Sasha, of real Sasha's hair, fr-from that polaroid. I-if you hate it, we can, we can choose something else, but I, when we agreed we're not going to have kids, I wanted to find another way to-to honor our friends, and I—"
Jon doesn't know where Martin is going to take that sentence, and frankly, he doesn't much care. He's only got eyes for the sweet girl clambering out of the backpack and into his hands.
"She's ours?" Jon asks, his voice soft as he strokes her with one finger. He looks up at Martin to see an expression he can't quite define—hope and happiness and love and, and something else, too.
"Yeah, Jon, she's ours," Martin echos, grinning a little nervously. "You, you like her then?"
"Like her?" Jon protests. "Martin, I love her. Thank you." He stretches to press a kiss to Martin's cheek, and then looks back down at the cat in his hands. "Welcome home, Sasha."
The following afternoon, Jon takes her to the vet for her first check-up and dutifully unfolds the paperwork Cindy had sent with Martin. Martin had wanted to come as well, but with such short notice, he couldn't get anyone to cover his library shift. But Jon doesn't mind—he's happy to spend this time with Sasha.
He starts coming home immediately after his class finishes at 11 AM the rest of the week instead of waiting for his usual 1 o'clock, just to get every spare minute with her he can. His home office doesn't yet have a lot of creature comforts for a cat, so he curls up on the sofa to grade and plan his lectures. Sasha doesn't seem to mind—she fits herself in his crossed legs, in the space between his elbow and chest, or—on one notable occasion—in the pocket of his button-up shirt.
Martin comes home to find them like that, Jon absent-mindedly petting her every now and again, Sasha rumbling away surprisingly loudly for her size.
That's when he says, "You know, with her being able to fit in there, you could take her to class with you."
Jon chuckles at the suggestion, and Martin grins as Sasha gives a yawn and stretches her front feet. She spots Martin on the other end of the sofa and clambers out of Jon's pocket to climb up close to Martin's beard, rubbing her face against it. (It's relatively new, but Jon and Sasha are both big fans.)
Which has all led to his Monday morning lecture at 9 AM, where they're starting Macbeth. He's revised this unit a bit, including a new assignment about the real historical Macbeth and another about Macbeth allegories in modern media—and normally, he'd be quite excited to introduce it.
Instead, he's nervous. Sasha has proven herself over the weekend to be incredibly curious and brave, not shying away from Melanie and Georgie or—on Sunday—the Admiral, who proved to be every bit as distinguished a big brother as Jon would've expected. But he doesn't know how she'll do in his class of 30 students, especially when they all get to talking over each other during the analysis part of the discussion.
Currently, she's napping away in her cat backpack, and Jon's debating whether to not to unzip the bag before students arrive. She just looks so peaceful, he can't bear the idea of waking her up. He's just decided to let her nap away in her backpack and started sorting his notes for the day when she gives a plaintive little meow.
Grinning, he unzips the bag and lets her climb out. She thoroughly inspects the papers on the desk and, after determining them thoroughly uninteresting for her cat sensibilities, she turns to Jon and meows, demanding to be allowed access to his shirt pocket. He, of course, obliges her without delay.
Sasha is a smashing success, and really, he doesn't know why he doubted it. The tables in his classroom are set up in a square, creating a large empty space in the middle but allowing everyone to look around at each other during discussions—students frequently opt to give recitations or presentations in the empty space. Sasha discovers quite quickly that, by staying on top of the tables, she can get access to every student in the room, who shower her with love.
Students coo at her and call out to get her attention, and Jon has to contend with a fair amount of ribbing from students who've only seen his stuffier, academic side. One student teases him, "We all knew you were a big softie under the elbow patches—no one else gives extensions with such kindness, and now with this tiny fluff ball? Your secret is out, Professor."
He laughs, louder and brighter than he can remember doing away from Martin in ages. It's probably the first time he's felt so secure in his life, this life they've built after everything.
It's the least productive class day he's ever had, including those first few where he had no idea how to lead a group of students, but it is by far the happiest. Sasha climbs into his shirt pocket halfway through their lecture about Lady Macbeth's soliloquy, and he loses all train of thought when the students descend into a flutter of excitement.
So, yes, this might be Martin's fault, and Jon'll just have to cook him dinner to show him how much it means to him.