Work Text:
It is 1:17 in the morning. Jon is in his office, of course. He is sitting alone. There’s a cold cup of tea on the desk and tears threatening to fall from his eyes.
The facts are these:
Martin has always been an incompetent employee. This has been the case from day one, starting with the dreaded dog incident , and continuing forth with a streak of blunders, errors and little mistakes, which were in constant need of correction. Jon didn’t quite want to consider why he noticed so many of them.
Martin has always been a nice person as well. He’s mild-mannered, always taking time out of his day (his work day, Jon feels the need to add) to make the office rounds of tea throughout their shifts, and he remembers how each person takes theirs. Complaints against his work aside, Martin makes an excellent cuppa.
And Jon… well, snappish has always been a right description of him, but he is especially so with those who are incompetent or nice . He’s never been one to look past mediocrity, and he’s never been good at accepting kindness from others. Most likely, both traits speak to some sort of deep childhood hurt, but nonetheless, they are his.
And so:
Jon treated Martin- he can admit now- very poorly, and Martin, being nothing but eager to please, ended up putting himself in harm’s way in the process. He was borderline tortured, very nearly killed, and Jon, with his cruel demeanour, is the only one to blame.
He’s tried to make up for it in the ways he knows how. He offered Martin a place to stay, since it would be more than reasonable to assume he wouldn’t want to go back home after all that. He’s let up the constant criticism as best he can, and he’s felt appropriately like waste every time he slips up.
The thing is, the reasoning Jon has to be at the office so late in fact, Martin is still so nice . Even after all he’s been through, that Jon’s put him through , he still apologizes every minute, still accepts Jon’s outbursts, less frequent but still present, without complaint. A few hours ago now, at around 10 o’ clock and before Martin turned in for the night, he stopped by Jon’s office with a cup of tea in hand and a request.
“Um- can you maybe try to go home? Get some sleep?”
A pause.
“Thank you for the tea, Martin.”
And here, Jon still sits, heartbroken. What has he done to deserve such kindness? Nothing, obviously, yet Martin decides to share it anyway. It isn’t fair. Jon hasn’t done enough to have earned the right. He nearly took Martin’s life , and he gets concern? For only giving him a usable living space after making his own uninhabitable?
Jon decides he will not stand for this any longer. He knows exactly how to change it.
Martin was left alone for two weeks, he’d been sure he was entirely forgotten, but Jon doesn’t think he could ever forget him. He didn’t realize, until the possibility of Martin being taken from him became a reality, that it was the last thing he wanted. That he pressed him so hard in part to distract from his own feelings for the man. And how cruel must one be, to nearly send someone to their own death with feelings spawned from affection?
Jon doesn’t have much to give, but he would give his company, the truth of his feelings. It was all he could think of, when faced with all the debt he owed. Martin would know he was cared for, and Jon would feel the inevitable rejection to come. A perfect salt in his wounds. A match to his crime. A punishment.
Shakily, he stands from his desk and makes his way over to document storage. Martin is surely asleep by now, but Jon can see him once before he departs, a feast for the eyes to sate his hollowed soul. When he reaches the doorway however, he hears Martin, and he’s weeping.
“Martin?” Jon cracks open the door a moment after speaking and lets himself peek inside.
“Uh- hi Jon.” Martin is sitting on the cot, rushing to wipe his eyes. Jon also notices that he’s wearing nothing but his boxers. Thick legs, big arms and soft stomach are in clear view, his chest is… a little larger than expected. Huh. That’s maybe something to note. Jon takes a bit too much time noticing though, and he quickly snaps his eyes back up to Martin’s face.
“Sorry to intrude, ehm. A-are- are you alright?”
“Am I…” Martin pauses, a little befuddled, “Oh, yep! Yeah, just fine, thanks.”
His cheer is very clearly put on. Jon steps into the room and gently shuts the door. The movement of his legs as he walks up to Martin and sits down on the cot beside him feels as terrifying and unstoppable as the upwards climb of a rollercoaster to its drop.
“Martin.”
“Yeah?”
“While I have you here, I- I wanted to say, well. Um. A- a lot of things actually.”
“Mhm,” Martin hums, to the tune of go on then .
“I…” Jon steels himself, “I wanted to say- that- that I’m sorry. I’ve treated you horribly since you started here, and you truly don’t deserve it. The matter of your work aside, you’re a- a lovely person, and deserve more kindness than I have offered you.
“O-oh?” Martin shouldn’t sound nearly so surprised. “Tha-that’s- I mean-“
“ I’m- “ He thunders, before remembering himself. “I’m not done.”
Martin replies meekly, “Okay.”
“I… I know that you felt alone, those weeks you were… captive, a-a-and you had a right to feel that way, you were gone for ages and no one came to help you.”
“W-well, Jane Prentiss had my phone and all.”
“ I know , I know. But you’re not. Alone, that is. Ah, even if you feel that way, I wanted to let you know that you are- thought of. Cared for.”
Jon barely manages to force the words from his mouth, and is met only with silence. He looks up to Martin’s face and is met with a strange look of melancholy.
“It’s okay Jon, you don’t have to say that.”
“I- I know I don’t have to, but it’s true!” He argues.
“ Jon .” It is a world-weary sound. One Jon can now see, stemming from the insidious feeling that it is impossible for one to be cared for.
“ I care about you Martin.” Jon pleads, desperate to stifle that feeling.
There is a stretch of silence, Martin’s face slowly grows red and Jon is sure he finally managed to get his feelings across, before he responds. “It’s- it’s okay Jon, I promise, you don’t need to try and make me feel better.”
“I do ,” he tries asserting again, panic building at the honesty of his own words and Martin’s insistence that he’s only saying what Martin wants to hear.
What Martin wants to hear. Well. Then there may be a way to prove his point.
Jon takes Martin by the jaw and kisses him. The angle is awful, Martin squeaks in surprise before trepidatiously leaning in. Jon deepens the kiss, no more than he is comfortable, but enough to make Martin gasp a little. He carefully keeps their bodies apart, his own thoughts on the matter and any feelings Martin may have towards his own kept in mind, Jon’s hands stay cupped on either side of his face.
Then, he pulls away. When he opens his eyes, he expects disgust, maybe firm disapproval or pity holding Martin’s expression, but the starry-eyed wonder that seems to overtake it sends a shiver through him, his heart pounds loudly in his ears.
In a move that Jon could have never predicted, Martin leans in, he carefully slides a hand to hold his back, his eyes focused on Jon’s lips.
“Could I, um…”
“ Yes ,” Jon breathlessly replies.
They come together ore artfully the second time. Martin’s brought him close enough that his own skinny thigh is pressed against Martin’s larger one. Squished together at their sides, Martin’s hand holding his back, bringing him gently closer. So much contact is almost too much after having spent so long without, every place they touch is bursting and alive in a way that dizzies him. Jon brings his own hand to play with Martin’s hair, it’s softer than he could’ve imagined.
“Thank you, Jon,” Martin says quietly, and a little choked, once they’ve pulled away. Jon sees fresh tears dripping down his face. When he touches his own, his fingers come back dampened.
“It’s okay Jon, I’m sorry, there’s no need to cry,” Martin soothes him, Jon’s skin fizzes with life where he wipes the tears away.
“It’s more than okay Martin. I j-just didn’t think you’d- you’d kiss me.”
“I didn’t think you’d kiss me either. ‘Happy you did though.” The corners of his mouth turn up and press into his deep red cheeks, his eyes stay fixed on the floor beneath them. “I liked this.”
“I did too.” Jon lets himself smile, for just a bit. Then it falters. “I’m- I’m not like you Martin. I’m not a kind man. As much as I liked- a-as nice as this was, I’m… much more disposed to hurt than help, a-and- I’m still your boss for goodness-“
“ Jon .” He’s interrupted by another weary sound, this time it’s the normal kind of tired. It successfully interrupts Jon’s spiraling. “Look, I know you’re not always the nicest, but you’ve- you’ve proven just now that you can change. Sure, you’re my boss, but I don’t think you’re the type to abuse that power for something like this, and if I’m wrong, I ah- I’m pretty sure I could get Tim and Sasha on my side. Sorry.”
He cups Jon’s cheek and turns him so he meets Martin’s eye. There’s a look of determination there that Jon’s never seen from him before. “I know you think the odds are against us, God knows I do… but- I swear I’ll be kicking myself forever if we don’t give it a try.”
Jon is momentarily stunned, but he takes his mind and body into his own hands, and lets himself relent. He melts against Martin’s hand and holds it in his own.
“Alright, we- we can try.”
The way Martin’s beam splits his face makes it immediately worthwhile.
The moment Martin lowers his hand, Jon straightens (ha.) and clears his throat. “There’s a uh- a cafe near my street that just opened, if you wanted to-”
“God, yes, I would love to,” Martin enthusiastically replies. “Can we think of a time and day later? I’m- I’m very tired.”
“Oh- of- of course.” Jon’s feeling pretty sleepy himself, maybe he should be getting back home.
Not before one thing. “Martin, you- you have to promise me that if it starts being bad- if you don’t like it- you’ll tell me. A-And if I don’t listen, you’ll tell someone with some sense in them.”
“I’ll… yeah,” Martin nods. “I’ll do my best.”
Jon looks to where Martin’s hand rests. Deliberately, he reaches his own hand to place it overtop. In a moment, Martin flips his palm over and wraps Jon’s smaller hand entirely in his own. He gently traces the back of it with a thumb. Jon presses their palms together.
“As will I.”