Chapter Text
Jon grumbled and squirmed around, trying to latch himself to Martin so that he wouldn't get out of bed.
"We have to get up, love,"
"Mmm…no we don't,"
He made grabby hands at Martin until he sat down on the edge of the bed. He wriggled over and slid his hands up Martin's shirt, wrapping his arms around his waist.
"Shit- Jon get them off me- why are your hands so cold?"
He tried (and failed) to remove Jon's hands from his skin, eventually just sighing and resting his own hands over Jon's.
"We do need to get up, though, we have work,"
"I'm the boss and I say we don't."
Martin laughed at him. "It doesn't work like that, Jon,"
"Yes it does."
"Not when we've got people coming in for statements today," he looked back at Jon, who was staring up at him with big, innocent eyes. "Oh my god- fine-"
He flopped down and Jon immediately crawled onto him, curling up on his chest like a cat.
Jon ran his fingers up Martin's arm. He had recently gotten a big tattoo, a swirling pattern of clouds and flowers and plants. All the way from his wrist to his shoulder, save for a blank spot on his bicep that he assured Jon would soon be filled in. Apparently he had once had a tattoo there, but it had since faded away to a few dark-ish lines that were barely visible.
Martin had once been very careful to not break the institute's dress code, and would have had dared to get something as bold as this marked onto his skin, but Sasha had re-done the dress code when she became the new head of the institute. She'd completely erased the "no visible tattoos" rule, and Martin had been eager to finally be allowed to decorate his skin.
Martin shifted around a bit, moving Jon off him for a moment so he could take off his t-shirt. Jon had expressed an interest in tracing over Martin's tattoos, and it was much easier to do so when they weren't covered by clothing.
Jon did so now, moving around so he could rest his head on Martin's chest. He traced his fingers over Martin's skin, touching all the little marks and scars he'd received over the years. And the much bigger, intentional scars on his chest that were only just healed. He was very proud of those ones, Jon knew.
His hand stopped over the little ice cream tattoo on Martin's side. Tim had persuaded them all to get matching ones. Jon's was in a similar location to Martin's. He made his way back up to Martin's shoulder, tracing the swirling marks down, around, past that blank spot and- He paused. That was new.
The spot wasn't blank anymore. Instead it was home to a small, fully coloured, very, concerning familiar logo.
"Martin…? What..?"
He looked down. "Hmm? Oh! Yeah I just got it done! Do you like it?"
Jon traced over it. The sharp little lines around the gear, the big swooping letters.
"Mm… yeah…"
He sat up to look at Martin, who was beaming up at him.
"It's my favourite band," he explained. "I was really into them when I was younger, and I always listen to their music when everything feels Bad."
"That's… nice," Jon rubbed his eyes.
"Mhm," Martin looked at the time. "Ah- okay time to get up now,"
He moved Jon off him and got up.
"Promise you'll let me tell you all about them later?"
Jon looked up at him. He didn't really need Martin to 'tell him all about them', but…
"Of course."
Martin clapped and ran off to shower.
Jon got up slowly, looking around their room. He would have to tell Martin. How did… did Martin not know? Or was he messing with Jon? He opened a rarely used drawer. It housed a few personal items and clothes he never wore, but refused to get rid of for memory reasons. He rummaged through it, searching. Surely he still had- ah, yes, there it was.
He pulled on a long skirt, and his usual work shirt. He was really going to do this, was he? No, he couldn't. Martin would kill him. Well he wouldn't kill him, but he would be a little upset. This might be a bit funny, though. Basira would certainly laugh. And Georgie, if she had decided to come in with Melanie today.
Jon nodded to himself and put on the vest. It certainly wasn't his usual formal waistcoat, but he had given up on formal quite a while ago. He frowned. It was… a little bit tighter than he remembered. Although it had been a while since he had worn it last, and Martin had been helping him fix his eating habits. Yes, Martin could be thanked for this.
He found a nice jacket to wear. It was one of Martin's, and so did not fit him at all, but oversized was a look he quite liked. He went to the kitchen, where Martin was buttering some toast. He passed Jon a plate and sat down across from him.
"Is that my jacket?"
"Yes."
"What if I wanted to wear that one today?"
"Uh…" Jon frowned and started shrugging out of it.
"No- love, I was joking," he smiled.
"Ah, right,"
Martin pointed with what remained of his toast.
"Is that new? I haven't seen it before,"
"Oh.. uh… found it in my drawer," Jon quickly ate his toast. Maybe he shouldn't wear it today.
"Looks nice, I like it, 'specially with that skirt,"
"Thanks," he blushed a little bit. Because of course Martin could make him blush at any time.
Jon picked up his bag and slipped on some boots. He hesitated and headed for the bathroom picking up a small tube and shoving it into his pocket before racing after Martin, who was waiting outside already.
They sat close to each other on the train, as usual. Martin had his headphones in, and if Jon listened closely he could just make out- ah, yes. That's what Martin was humming, tapping his fingers in time with the beat.
It was a bit cute, actually.
Jon hid in his office until he was sure everyone was there. It was much easier than having to continuously greet each person when they came in. He went to go say good morning to everyone and was immediately glared at by Basira. It was very clearly her "what the fuck are you doing?" Look. He'd been on the receiving end of that glare many times. He stared right back and headed into the hallway, where she followed him.
"What are you wearing?"
"Yes, yes, I know," he waved his hand. "Ask Martin about his new tattoo and don't say anything."
"Yeah, sure,"
"Before you go could you- ah-" He shoved the tube of eyeliner into her hand. "Help me with this?"
She blinked at him, before sighing and heading for the bathroom. "Aren't you meant to be good at this? I mean considering how much you used to wear,"
"Yes, well, I was good at the costume makeup, not proper stuff that was meant to look nice,"
"Whatever."
She was certainly much better than he was, and much quicker too. They headed back to the desks together.
Sasha had come down from her office, and was sitting on Martin's desk. He'd unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it down a bit to show Tim and Sasha his tattoo. Basira looked at it, and then at Jon, then shook her head and sat down.
Jon headed over to join in on the conversation.
***
Martin glanced at Jon as he came over. He pulled up a chair and sat next to Tim.
"You said you've been to their concerts, yeah?" Tim poked at his tattoo.
"Stop touching it, Tim, yes, I went to all of them. They weren't too frequent, just whenever a new album came out," they were some of his fondest memories. Before Jon, obviously. Now his fondest memories were with his friends and his husband.
"They stopped working together in um…" he thought, "2011, I think? Right after I started working here, in the library,"
Jon frowned.
"2011?? I thought you started after us?" Sasha looked down at him.
"Oh, uh,, no, it was before you, I was only 22 or 23,"
"Wow…"
"But-! I went to their final concert! Um…" he shook his head. "I was having a bit of a rough times I mean new job and all, and it was pretty much my one chance to get some time to myself for a few hours,"
Martin remembered it all clearly.