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Martin liked to think that he was good at noticing when Jon wasn't feeling well. Back in the Archives, he tended to hold himself like he was constantly in pain (and Martin didn't like to think about the fact that it was probably because he was), but being away from them for so long allowed him to relax. There was no greater joy, in Martin's opinion, than coming home from work and seeing his boyfriend making a cup of tea or reading in front of the fire, especially after a long day. Today, however, Jon was nowhere to be found when Martin walked through the front door. He checked his phone and looked around for a note or any explanation as to Jon's absence, but found nothing.
He went upstairs to the bedroom, assuming that Jon had gone running errands without telling him. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find a figure on the bed, clearly disturbed by his coming in.
"Oh, god, sorry!" He lowered his voice as Jon stirred. "Didn't know..."
Jon sat up slowly, looking weary. "S'alright. I was gonna get up soon anyway."
Martin's back was turned to him as he unbuttoned his shirt, but he couldn't help but contain the smile on his face at Jon's sleep-addled voice. Once he had changed into a sweater, he turned around.
"Alright?" He inquired.
Jon had his legs over the side of the bed, about to stand up. "Yes. Just unusually tired." After standing and stretching, he admitted, "I think it's the weather."
There had been no ignoring the chill the past few days. That morning, Martin had even stared at his winter coat that sat folded on the closet shelf, wondering if it was time to get it out.
"How I about I put on the fire, then?" He figured that was an appropriate autumnal activity. Then, after no response from Jon, he added, "Cuddle on the couch, maybe?" He raised the pitch of his voice and wiggled his fingers enticingly. Any other time, this would have been an embarrassing gesture, but this time it made Jon crack a small smile.
"Sounds good."
Before Martin could get the chance to say or do anything in response, Jon quickly went to the bathroom across the hall and shut the door. Normally Martin wouldn't think anything of it, but coupled with his short responses and disheveled look, he wondered if there was something else going on.
Nevertheless, he went downstairs to start the fire. He was no stranger to seasonal depression, and he wouldn't be surprised if Jon was starting to feel the effects of the seasons changing. The issue with Jon is that he was highly unlikely to admit it. While Martin had learned that it was okay to ask for help and reassurance, Jon seemed to keep an iron grip on his pride. Since the apocalypse and the change back, he had opened himself up a bit more, but Martin usually had to coax him out of his shell of self-pity. Today, he figured, was one of those days.
When he returned from getting firewood from their outside stash, he saw Jon sitting on the couch, propped up against one of the arms. He set the bundle of wood down and brushed some stray dirt off of his hands.
"Can I get you anything? Tea?" The chill outside made him want a cuppa himself.
"No, I'm alright. Thank you." Jon said, continuing to stare into space.
Martin sighed and tried not to let his concern show too much. He didn't want to be too overbearing, but it was painful to see Jon like this. It reminded him of back in the Archives when he was forced to watch Jon suffer from afar, and it hurt.
He basked in the warmth of the roaring fire for a few seconds and then retreated to the couch where Jon was waiting. He sat next to him but didn't immediately interrogate or touch him. Jon looked in his direction, gave him that small smile again, and then went back to staring out the window.
"Hey," Martin started gently. "C'mere?"
Much to Martin's happiness, Jon moved over to rest his head on his shoulder. He responded by putting an arm around his shoulder and soothingly rubbing his thumb up and down.
"Blanket?" Martin said, referring to the tartan throw blanket draped across the back of the couch. It was a lovely housewarming gift from Melanie and Georgie, and it quickly became a source of comfort during the cold winter months. Jon nodded, and Martin quickly grabbed it with his free hand and draped it over their legs.
"Are you alright?" He finally asked. He figured that even if Jon declined to respond, he could offer comfort in the form of hugs and well-timed kisses with no complaints.
To his surprise, Jon opened his mouth to respond immediately but quickly closed it as if he was reconsidering.
"Been better."
"Oh, Jon..." He knew that the admittance would come at some point, but it still broke his heart. To say that Jon had been through a lot would be a understatement, and it tugged at Martin's chest every time he had a rough day.
"I had a dream last night."
Oh. That was different.
"I haven't dreamed in years, Martin." Jon stated the obvious as Martin wrestled with the implications.
"...Do you want to talk about it?" he tried. He reckoned that that was the first step of comforting someone after a bad dream, but this was fairly new territory for them. Jon was no stranger to hearing Martin waking up in the middle of the night screaming, yet the reverse was hardly ever true. He wasn't necessarily out of his element, but the unknown scared him a bit.
Jon sighed and leaned deeper into Martin. "I was a child again."
If Martin wasn't worried before, he definitely was now. Jon hardly ever talked about his childhood (save for one night when he was quite wine-drunk and Martin had to console his crying boyfriend until he fell asleep in his arms), and he never pushed him about it. He could tell that Jon had the mindset of keeping traumatic things in the past, but today it seemed that memories were rearing their ugly heads. Martin inhaled deeply, wanting to immediately offer comfort, but hesitated. Perhaps it was best if he let Jon talk about it and didn't let the feelings fester.
"I don't know if it was a memory or if my mind was making something up, but... My parents were there. And I..." He hesitated, reaching fot the words. "I was happy. That's all I can remember, but it was more vivid when I had just woken up.
"Jon..." Martin said gently.
"May I keep talking?" He asked, and Martin's heart squeezed.
"You never have to ask, love."
Jon sighed. "My parents died when I was young, have I ever told you that?"
Martin recalled the night of Jon's drunken rant. "Yes, you have." He can see his boyfriend's eyes start to well up.
"I miss them," Jon says plainly. "So, so much. It's silly, I barely even knew them but..."
Martin squeezes his hand in empathy. Jon was likely to distraught to think clearly, but something in Martin's mind was panicking and making him think that he had forgotten all about his parents as well.
"It's not silly, Jon," he said. "I understand. Do you maybe miss the idea of having parents?"
"What?" Jon said, and it was only then that Martin realized that there was a possibility that he was the one being silly.
"Obviously I don't know what your relationship with them was like, but that's basically what happened when my dad left."
Martin fully expected Jon to apologize as if it was illegal for both of them to have absent parents, but he let him talk.
"Seeing everyone at school talk about their dads made me so jealous. I got over it after a bit, but it just hurt."
"Martin, I'm sorry, I never considered—" And there it was.
"No, it's alright!" Martin quickly deflected. "I'm making this all about me, I'm sorry." He swallowed, trying to quickly move on. "I mean... what's that thing about trauma bonding?"
Jon's perpetual frown turned into a slight smile as he laughed softly.
Martin sighed in response, thankful that Jon's venting session didn't end in tears. Not that he would have minded, but it was better in the long run.
"I know this won't magically fix things, but I love you and I'm always here for you," he offered.
"Thank you, it... means more than you know." Jon clarified this anytime Martin offered support or advice, and it never failed to make his heart flutter.
"Good, good. Feeling better?"
"Somewhat, yes."
He could tell Jon was still holding in some tension, like he just needed to take one last deep breath. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
Jon paused to consider. "...Can we just watch Bake Off?"
Martin let out a genuine laugh as he was caught off guard.
"Whattt?" Jon whined.
"Sorry," Martin was still laughing. "S'just funny. We were both so serious a few minutes ago and now you want to watch Bake Off of all things!"
Jon, clearly feeling better, rested his legs on Martin's lap and leaned back over the arm of the couch. "Am I not allowed to be invested in the drama of cake week?"
Martin smiled at the image of his boyfriend relaxing like a teenager on the couch. "No, no, you are." He moved Jon's legs off of his and stood up to grab his laptop from the dining hall. "M'glad you want a distraction instead of wallowing in your feelings."
"Didn't you say something once about Mary Berry curing all ills?"
Martin laughed again. "I'm sure I did, yes. Very on-brand."
"Well, you were right. I hope."
He had his back turned to Jon, but when he turned around, his expression was the opposite of what it had been just ten minutes ago. He was looking fondly at Martin like he was a piece of fine art in a museum. And this was why Martin was so caring, he realized. It had been hard at first to bring Jon out of his shell when he was sad, but the truth was, he loved Jon when he was happy. After so many dark years, seeing Jon experience the joys of life (even if it was as simple as living vicariously through amateur bakers on BBC) brought Martin inconsiderable joy himself.
He certainly wouldn't have it any other way.