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Jon had held his hand as they left the Lonely together, and he held his hand as they packed their things, and as they caught the train. Martin feels a lot about this, more than he thinks he should so soon after leaving the Lonely. He just can’t handle it, the way that Jon keeps looking at him. That look, full of concern, worry, care, with love – all focused on Martin. Sure, he knows this look, it’s one that he had given Jon nearly every single day for the last two years, but never, not once, had Martin ever had this look turned on him. Not by his mother, not by those few (and admittedly, very short-term) people he had dated before. No, Martin doesn’t think a single person alive has ever looked at him like he mattered.
So yeah, it was a lot.
Not a bad ‘a lot’, but certainly a lot. After months and months of not feeling anything at all, he is no longer sure he can handle the realities of what it is like to love Jonathan Sims. But he’d be lying if he said he was going to stop Jon from doting on him. Overwhelming as it was, that part of him that never gave up on his love for this man was preening– after all, the only reason that Martin gave himself to the lonely in the first place was for Jon, why shouldn’t he indulge in this.
All that is to say that, when they finally made it up to Scotland, he was determined to enjoy as much of Jon’s affection and care as he could–especially if it was being freely given now. He knew he had a lot of healing to do, and he wasn’t sure Jon would want to stay through all of it (–though, that could have been the Lonely still talking). So, he was going to savour this, and as they got off the train, he grabbed Jon’s hand again. He felt Jon immediately squeeze his hand, reassuring him in the silence, saying I’m here, I’ve got you.
Martin had expected the safehouse to be small, large enough to fit a fugitive, but not any sort of luxury. Seeing the two floor, sturdy, cobbled cottage with a rather impressive (if overgrown) garden shocked him. This was somewhere he could see himself staying forever, somewhere he could imagine settling down, making a life. Suddenly, the idea of spending any sort of time here with Jon (let alone leaching as much contact as possible from the man) seemed like an impossible feat. He never thought he would get this, never thought that Jon would ever be able to love him back, care for him the same way he did for the other.
He spent so long, even before the Lonely, harbouring a stupid, ill-advised crush on this man; and now all those daydreams were possible. In the depths of the Lonely, those daydreams were not only dangerous, but had served to make him feel even more alone, a guilty indulgence he knew he would never have. After the Unknowing, he mourned Jon with those same daydreams, thinking about what could have been if he had just said something sooner. Now, here, with the actual possibility of these daydreams in front of him– some chance at a domestic little life– he thought he would feel only joy… but no, there was a bittersweet mix of fear, guilt, mourning, and loss mixed in with it. How strange that love could make you feel so much.
They wobble through the front door together– (Despite Jon trying his damndest to go in first. ‘Martin, please let me make sure it’s safe.’ Yeah, right, like Martin was going to let Jon run head-first into some unknown danger right now.) –and set to exploring the place. The first floor contained a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen, a room with a lovely little fireplace, a toilet, and a room for storage and laundry. The second floor revealed two bedrooms, a storage closet, and another toilet.
(“Oh my God, Jon, look! It’s a claw foot tub! I’ve always dreamed about being able to take a bath in something like that!” he pulled Jon by their (still connected) hands into the room to show him, but didn’t receive a response. Concerned, he turned to look at him, but Jon was only standing, staring at Martin, with a look that was almost unbearably fond.
“W-ha- what’s that look for?” Oh, his voice was squeaking, he needed to get better control of himself.
Then Jon jolted, just a bit, as if startled at being talked too directly, “Oh! Um! I- well- I’m just glad to see you so excited about something… I missed this…” he looks away from Martin, ducking his head, “I missed you.”)
They should probably clean. They should probably eat something. Honestly, they should probably shower– but fuck all he wanted to do was lie down and take a nap. Without putting much thought into it, he pulled both of them to the larger bedroom, towards the bed, but was stopped by the gentle pull of Jon’s hand in his.
Turning, he saw Jon standing in the doorway, stock still, unmoving.
“Uh- if you want some rest, I guess I should leave you to it? I’ll go ahead and…set up my room if you need me?” He loosened his grip on Martin, trying to pull back- and Martin, well, Martin had no idea what the hell was happening.
“Jon? What do you mean your room? Why do you need a separate room from me?”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, “uh…well… I guess I assumed you wanted some time to yourself, but if you don’t want to be alone, I guess I could stay here with you for a bit, but I don’t want to take advantage…” Martin was more lost than before.
“Advantage? Take advantage of what?”
“My-” Jon grunts in frustration, “My Feelings for you! I-It’s not fair of me to–to just…” He flings his hands up, “–I don’t want to use your trauma as an excuse to get what I want!”
Martin was shocked. Did Jon think–
“Jon, why on Earth would you be taking advantage of me? I’ve dreamed about being able to sleep next to you for years , Jon. Years!”
Martin watched as Jon’s face went through several emotions in quick succession: shock, disbelief, hope, anger, but it finally seemed to land on something indigent.
“Well– I– How was I supposed to know that, Martin! You’ve said nearly nothing since leaving the Lonely, and in the Lonely you said ‘loved’! Past-tense, Martin! Don’t act like I’m the one being ridiculous here!” He was nearly shouting, by the end of things. Martin couldn’t believe it, the man who saved him from the Lonely, held his hand from London to the middle-of-nowhere Scotland, the man who Martin nearly died for, and he was still unsure of whether or not he was loved. It was just….just so Jon.
“Jesus Christ, Jon! I thought I was dead at the time, of course it was in the past tense! How on Earth have you got all-knowing powers and can still be so dense?”
“Dense?! Why I–” Jon cut himself off, suddenly looking quite stricken, and then said, much softer, “you…you still love me?”
Martin smiled, “Yes Jon, I still love you, I have always loved you, and, if you’ll let me, I would love to take a nap with you in my arms.”
Jon’s skin was dark enough that, unless you were to be looking for it, you would never be able to tell he was blushing. But Martin was looking, and he could tell the man in front of him was rapidly becoming much more red in the face than he was before.
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.”
“I’d like that…”
“Then come join me in bed, Jon.”
Together they crawled into the musty old bed ( ‘Good Lord, these are disgusting!’ ) and rolled to face each other. Without hesitation, Martin let his hand fall along Jon’s jaw, his face was so soft, with only a slight prickle of stubble. Jon sighed and leaned into his touch, letting his own arm come up and across Martin’s middle, tugging the man closer.
“I love you, Martin.” Jon whispered, closing his eyes and (just like a cat) pushing himself further into Martin’s front.
Jon, Martin thought, is the most handsome person in the world, and he would go through the Lonely 1000 times if it meant that he could have this in the end. He loved Jon so much it hurt, but the pain was worth it if he could come home at the end of the day and hold him like this.
“I love you, too.” He let his eyes slip closed, and was quickly dragged into sleep. He came back to later– how much later he couldn’t say, it could have been weeks, or maybe just hours– to find himself and Jon even more tangled together. Legs wrapped around each others, arms holding the other close, and Jon’s head laid right over Martin’s heart, as if listening to the sound of his heartbeat. He took a deep breath, and let himself return to sleep, content that he would wake up with the love of his life in his arms later.