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In Search of Rest

Summary:

The door opens just enough for Martin to peek in, and Jon immediately knows what's brought him here. Martin is hazy in the faint light, his outline blurred and almost nonexistent in places, the lenses of his glasses fogged and concealing his eyes.

"Sorry," Martin whispers, his voice small and distant. "I don't think I should be alone right now."

"It's alright." Jon pats the bed next to him. "Why don't you sit with me for a while?"

---

Jon's been having a hard time sleeping. At least it means he's awake when Martin needs someone to ground him.

(Year of the OTP 2025, February - Bed Sharing)

Notes:

To nobody's surprise, my Slay the Princess obsession led to me getting into The Magnus Archives. I just finished the podcast today, in fact! I'm doing great!

Anyway, there's something about these two that really tickles my brain, and when I stumbled across the Year of the OTP event, I knew I wanted to give it a go with them. I don't know if I'll do a fic for every month, right now I only have ideas for about half of them. But I've been feeling really inspired lately, and I've been wanting to write more. I guess you could call it my new year's resolution! I'm keeping this super low stakes though. I have yet to finish a single fandom week or monthly writing challenge in a reasonable amount of time, I'm not gonna put pressure on myself and instead just ride this wave of motivation as far as it takes me!

Expect a fic for the January prompts next!

Work Text:

There's a gentle knock on the door of Jon's room, breaking the quiet stillness of the early night. He's still awake, idly reading one of the books he managed to find in this place, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger that's settled somewhere deep inside him. He turns his attention to the door, eager for a distraction he can more easily focus on. "Come in."

The door opens just enough for Martin to peek in, and Jon immediately knows what's brought him here. Martin is hazy in the faint light, his outline blurred and almost nonexistent in places, the lenses of his glasses fogged and concealing his eyes. It's only been a few days since Jon brought him out of the Lonely, and it still clings to him, trying desperately to drag him back. Martin had been so willing to give himself to it for long enough that a complete escape was impossible.

"Sorry," Martin whispers, his voice small and distant. "I don't think I should be alone right now."

"It's alright." Jon pats the bed next to him. "Why don't you sit with me for a while?"

Martin creeps over and settles on the spot Jon indicated. Even with him this close, he feels far away. Jon sets his book to the side and turns his full attention to Martin. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. You?"

"No." Jon sighs as the memories of the day they fled the Institute that he's been trying to ignore come flooding back. "It's been a hard few days, hasn't it?"

Instead of answering, Martin reaches over and lightly grasps Jon's wrist. Jon's breath catches in his throat at the tentative touch, and he stills, unsure of what to do next.

"I don't want to disappear again." Martin's voice wavers and his grip tightens, as if he's trying to anchor himself to this reality.

"You won't." Jon shifts, pressing himself against Martin's side reassuringly. "I won't let you."

"Thank you, Jon."

They sit in silence for a few moments, thin tendrils of fog occasionally coiling around them, pulling at Martin. One curls around his hand and he suddenly lets go of Jon's wrist, instead reaching out to entwine their fingers. His palm is soft and warm against Jon's scarred skin, and Jon gently squeezes his hand before leaning his head on Martin's shoulder.

"Would you like to stay here tonight, Martin?" Jon can barely hear his own voice over the sound of his racing heartbeat.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you."

"No, no, it's fine. I know you're worried about being on your own right now. It'll be safer if you stay."

Martin thinks for a moment, and then nods. "Alright."

Jon straightens up and meets Martin's eyes through the lingering haze on his glasses. "I think we should both try and get some sleep."

It takes a bit of coaxing, but Jon finally convinces Martin to lie down beneath the covers. It's not long before he drifts off, the gentle sound of his breathing filling the room. Jon closes his eyes and tries to will himself to sleep, but with nothing to focus on, his hunger returns in full force. He rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, and finds himself wondering how long he can last before he breaks down and finds someone to take a statement from. Or perhaps this time he'll finally allow himself to fade away.

Jon presses his palms to his eyes and lets out a slow breath. He doesn't want to keep dwelling on this, his terrible craving, his endless dance around death. Instead he turns onto his side to look at Martin, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, letting himself relax at the reassuring sight.

Martin shifts suddenly in his sleep, a troubled look crossing over his face. "Jon?" he murmurs softly.

"I'm here." Jon wraps his arms around Martin and draws him against his chest. "I've got you. You're safe."

As Martin nestles closer, Jon gently runs his fingers through his hair. It's comforting, holding him like this, finally having him close again after all the time they've spent apart. Jon hadn't expected to miss him so terribly, and he'd never imagined he could be quite so important to Martin either.

No, Jon decides as he feels sleep finally start to settle over him. He won't succumb, not to his hunger, nor this strange starvation. He'll find a way to keep going, for Martin.

He has to make sure Martin never has to be alone again.