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Martyn stands close as he fixes Ren’s tie. Necessarily close, of course. Still… tantalizingly so.
This is always the case, Ren supposes. Martyn, obviously, has to enter his personal space multiple times a day to perform his duties. But it always feels taunting, in a sense. Ren knows it’s just his heart talking. Any more than tantalizingly close would be… improper.
“Ren, do you even know how to tie your own tie?” Martyn asks, snapping Ren from his reverie. In that joking way of his, the tone he can only take on in private, with no one else around.
“Of course I do!” Ren exclaims. He responds likewise in a way that really only Martyn hears, because the faux-offense would make many of his other servants shrink away, and he’s still a bit nervous to joke with his fellow gentlemen.
Martyn laughs.
“Well, what are you paying me for, then?” he steps back, finishing his work, and Ren tries not to miss his presence too terribly.
“Many other things,” Ren says, who can not call all Martyn’s responsibilities to mind at the moment. “Namely keeping good company.”
“Aw, aren’t you a charmer?” Martyn smiles, fetching Ren’s coat now. “Come on, you’re going to be late.”
“Another thing,” Ren says, following Martyn as he exits his room. “You keep me punctual.”
“Not something I’d have to do were I working under anyone else,” Martyn responds.
“Oh, hush.”
Martyn laughs, hurrying down the stairs, forcing Ren to do likewise. He says nothing more until he’s already ushered Ren out the door and into his carriage.
“I will not,” he mutters once they’re seated, “Because I know you appreciate my boldness.”
Ren scoffs and turns to look out the window, hoping it will hide the flush on his face.
Martyn does as he always does while accompanying Ren in polite company, which is to say he makes himself as boring as possible. It’s tedious, but he at least doesn’t have to do much more than follow Ren about and fetch him and his friends hors d'oeuvres. He derives most of his entertainment from watching Ren’s face scrunch up when he calls him by his titles. He’s plenty used to hearing it, just not from Martyn’s mouth. It’s funny.
Time passes, as it has a tendency to do. Martyn makes himself useful when he can and stands idly by when he can’t. Eventually, an hour has elapsed. Dinner proper should surely be served soon. Martyn hopes so, at least, because it’s clear Ren can only stand to be here so much longer. His patience for these events is short.
Martyn notices– since he has little else to do but look around– that Ren’s coat has gotten messed up. The lapels are askew. He nearly reaches to fix it just then, but recalls his manners. When it appears Ren’s friends have started a conversation that Ren isn’t required to contribute to, Martyn pulls him aside. They end up in the sparsely populated study to the right of the foyer. “Sparsely populated” meaning one housemaid who bustles away upon seeing them enter.
“What? What’d I do?” Ren asks. Martyn laughs and shakes his head, approaching him and reaching to adjust the coat. And then, for good measure, he straightens the collar as well, and double checks the tie.
He can feel Ren’s gaze on him. He always can, it’s a rather heavy one. It lays imploringly on the back of Martyn’s head as he works studiously. He tries to diffuse the tension with a joke, as he always does.
“What would you do without me?” he teases, looking up at Ren. But he all but feels his throat close when he finds himself directly under Ren’s thoughtful scrutiny. It’s tender, and intimate, and, really, wholly inappropriate.
“I don’t know,” Ren says. And it should be a joke, certainly. But the earnesty with which he says it carries so much weight that Martyn can hardly take it as such.
“I’m sure you’d get on fine,” Martyn says honestly in turn, quiet to match the other’s tone. Ren cracks a smile, and so does Martyn.
Martyn looks around. The room is still empty, the door shut and curtains drawn.
He makes an… impulsive decision. And, hands still on Ren’s lapels, he places a light kiss on the corner of his lips. In part due to poor aim.
Ren certainly doesn’t seem to mind, freezing and lighting up red in any case. Martyn has to bite back a smile.
“Martyn—” and he sounds choked. Martyn looks aside, now just for show.
“Well, we ought to head back out there, shouldn’t we?” he says, casually. He steps back, and Ren grabs his waist.
“Hold on,” he says.
“What?” responds Martyn, as if oblivious, “We wouldn’t want to keep anyone…”
Martyn trails off as Ren silently leans in. He doesn’t manage to suppress his smile this time.
“...Waiting for you,” he finishes.
“Let them wait,” is Ren’s response, which probably would’ve sounded more blasé if Martyn couldn’t feel the warmth radiating from his face. But he doesn’t bother commenting on it, not when he can spend his time leaning up to kiss Ren again instead.
But nothing much more comes of it, because Martyn hears movement in the other room and pulls away. Ren isn’t keen on this, but Martyn disregards him.
“They’re getting seated for dinner,” he observes. “Alright, come on.”
He takes Ren’s hand and pulls him out of the study. Ren grumbles, but doesn’t complain further.
Throughout dinner, Ren’s eyes and thoughts keep wandering to Martyn. He kissed him. And Ren is surprised, of course– shocked, astonished, stupefied, even– but he can’t seem to find himself being too much so. Maybe it has to do with how much he’d considered the possibility over the years.
Martyn notices his distraction, naturally, and seems intent to be totally obnoxious about it. He stands even nearer to Ren’s chair than he usually does, takes care to let his hands linger as he refills Ren’s glass and places new platters in front of him. And everytime he catches a glimpse of Martyn’s face, he’s wearing a slight smile. One that would come across to anyone else as polite, but Ren knows better, knows his valet doesn’t smile when he doesn’t mean it, and as such knows it’s teasing in nature.
Dinner ends eventually. And, since he must, he lingers a bit to rub elbows. But as soon as he sees someone else depart, as soon as he wouldn’t be the first to go, he’s saying his goodbyes. And then he and Martyn are in the carriage again.
It is typically Martyn’s job to light the candles within to give them light. He doesn’t do that this time. The coachman begins their journey back home, and the inside of the carriage is just barely lit from the horse’s lanterns, where the light peeks through the driver’s back.
Ren turns to Martyn. He can barely see his face.
“Awfully dim in here,” he notes. Martyn’s silhouette turns to him.
“Would you like there to be light?” he asks, “I thought you may appreciate the privacy.”
Ren stares at him. He swallows.
“...Ah,” he says. “In that case… no, I suppose it’s fine.”
“Oh, good,” Ren can hear the smile in Martyn’s voice. He swallows again, and inches closer to him on the bench. Martyn scoffs a laugh and does so in turn. His arm braces itself behind Ren’s back. “I do hope this is alright, then?” he asks, and his face is very close to Ren’s indeed.
“Sure,” Ren tries to sound aloof, and is sure he fails miserably. Especially as he hears Martyn’s lips part in a grin.
“Right,” he says. He leans in, then, and connects their lips once more. It goes on longer this time, no dinner to interrupt them. Ren’s hand ends up on his thigh, and then around his waist. It feels somehow less taboo, now that they sit in the dark. Freeing, in a way.
It’s a long ride to Ren’s estate from here. So they take their time, and get quite comfortable.