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Chapter Text

Jon sat cautiously in the back seat of Daisy's patrol car, careful not to provoke the sleeping Tim beside him. They were on their way to the unknowing and while Jon knew he should be focused on the task ahead of him, he couldn't think about anything other than what he left behind.

Melanie. Poor Melanie. She never should have been involved in any of this. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, if I'd returned sooner from Georgie's--or if I hadn't gone at all--I could have stopped her from ever signing that contract. Not that she ever listened to him anyway.

Elias. And his weird creepy eye god, who Jon was fearing more by the day was also becoming his own, and whatever messed up plans he--or they--had for him and the rest of the archives crew--hell, the rest of the world.

And Martin. Martin plagued his mind most of all, though he couldn't exactly place his finger on why. He was worried about him, sure. But he was worried about all of them.

Perhaps because he had volunteered himself to be at the whims of Elias and his fucked up Eldritch powers in order to serve as a distraction for their plan. Perhaps because he was the softest of them all. If any of them wasn't cut out for all of this nonsense, it was certainly Martin.

But it felt deeper than that. His worry went beyond the circumstances. For some reason completely unbeknownst to him, he needed Martin to be ok. And, possibly more shockingly, he needed himself to be ok.

He was less worried about that last part of course. He came here knowing he probably wouldn't make it back. But a small part of him, somewhere deep down, wanted so badly to make it back out of this alive.

Wanted to return to the Institute victorious and run to Martin to make sure he was alright. Wanted to tell Martin all about the trip and the unknowing and how terrified he's undoubtedly been. Wanted to hear Martin's side of things and cry together about the trauma they'd just experienced. Wanted to hold him as their breathing returned to normal and laugh as Martin broke the mildly awkward silence by offering to make them each a cuppa. He wanted it. He wanted it so badly. He needed this. Just him. And Martin. Safe and together and-

Oh Fuck.

So that's it. That certainly would explain why he was so worried about Martin in particular.

Jon chose to tuck this realisation away in a box in the back of his mind. To be unpacked later, he told himself, once this nightmare is over and dealt with.

Just please. Please let Martin be ok.

Chapter Text

Martin sees his breath dance in front of him, mingling with the fog as he and Jon walk hand in away from the Lonely ocean. The Lonely's grasp still tugs on him as they make their way back home. In the distance, he can hear crashing waves, but they sound more like whispers slithering their way into his ears.

Why is he even here?

Doesn't he realize you were happy?

For God's sake he doesn't even like you!

Martin stops. His hand slips from Jon's as the man who would never love him back continues moving before abruptly noticing his absence. Jon stops and turns to face him

Martin realizes in this moment that tears are streaming down his face but it's too late to stop them. Jon stares at him agape like a child who's never seen a grown man cry--speechless. Entirely lost for words.

Eventually the words find him and he takes a step back towards Martin.

"Martin? Are you alright? We really need to keep moving."

Of course they do. Martin knows they do. If they don't keep moving, he'll get stuck here again. But the voices crawl their way back up his back.

He only cares about saving himself.

Let him leave. Stay here, where it's calm.

"I- I-" Martin attempts to speak but the thoughts won't seem to transfer from his brain to his mouth. He wants to tell Jon how much he needs him. How much he cares for him. How much he needs him to hold him tight and never let go. How he wants him to pull him out of this mess so they can go home together.

But he manages to say none of that. Instead he says "Why did you come for me?"

"What?" Jon lets out something between a scoff and a chuckle. "What do you mean why? Of course I came for you! I'd never leave you in here all alone."

"Why not?" Martins tears burn as his sadness turned to anger. "You had no problem leaving me alone before! The worms! The Unknowing! Lukas! You've done nothing but leave me alone since I met you!"

"That last one's not fair. You pushed me away, remember?"

"Yeah because I couldn't take being the one getting pushed anymore!" Martin screams, fueled by the whispers wrapping themselves around his mind. He watches as his vision becomes cloudy again, the Lonely pulling him back into its cold embrace.

"Martin!" Jon must see it to. "Martin please! Please just listen to me!"

The tears have stopped. He's going numb again. Relinquishing himself back to this place and its never ending emptiness.

"Martin listen to me!" Jon yells, grabbing Martin's shoulders and holding them tightly. "Martin, please. I need you to believe me when I say this, ok? I need you to trust me."

Martin nods slightly, still falling back into the grasp of the Lonely.

"Say it! I need you to say it!"

"I trust you." His vision becomes a little clearer, enough to see the tears now welling up in Jon's eyes as well.

"Then trust me when I say this." Jon's hands move from his shoulders to his cheeks, cradling his face in a way more tender than Martin ever thought possible. "I came back for you because I love you."

Martin gasps slightly, his lungs refilling with air after the shallow breathing the Lonely had been allowing.

"I- you... What did you say?"

"I said." Jon uses his hands to tilt Martin's head down so they stare directly into each other's eyes, mere inches apart. "I love you."

"You do?" The tears return, but this time they neither carry the cold of loneliness nor the heat of anger, but the warmth of happiness. 

Jon nods. "It's ok if you don't feel the same. But I needed you to know how much I care about you. How important you are to me. I needed you to know how important it is to me that you're safe."

"Are you kidding?" Martin giggles (Imagine giggling in a place like this). "I've been in love with you pretty much since we met."

"Wait, you- what?"

Martin nods, smile growing from ear to ear. He smiles so wide his cheeks hurt but he doesn't care. "And now I'd really like to kiss you if that's ok."

"I- uh, yes. I would like that."

And so they do. Martin leans down and places a surprisingly confident kiss onto the lips of Jonathan Sims, something he firmly believed only happened in his dreams. Jon's lips are rough and chapped but Martin doesn't care. He can feel the warmth and love behind them.

After a moment, Jon pulls away.

"As lovely as this is, we really do need to get out of here."

Martin laughs "Yeah I guess you're right." He reaches back out to take Jon's hand, this time interlocking their fingers. "But when we get back I am so going to kiss your brains out."

Jon chuckles in response. "I think I'd like that."

Chapter Text

Jonathan Sims had a pounding headache.

He lamented this fact as he ascended the front steps of the Magnus Institute. The pain had been there since the moment he woke up and despite his over-the-counter countermeasures, it seemed to be here to stay.

Great. Just Great. He thought. He had loads of statements to catch up on (Gertrude really had left this place a mess) and the last thing he needed was a migraine slowing him down.

When he finally arrived at his office, he sighed and set his bag down next to his desk, resigning himself to a day of misery; and for once he didn't mean the statements.He settled down into his chair and examined the workload he'd set out for himself the night before. On his desk sat two stacks of statements to his right and a freshly loaded tape recorder to his left. He looked at the stacks ahead of him. There were about 20 or so statements that needed to be assigned to his assistants for follow up, and another handful that had already been returned that he needed to record.

He picked up the first statement that needed recording. It seemed as good a place as any to start. He skimmed the information at the top of the page, cleared his throat, and started the recorder.

"Statement of Addison Whitley, regarding a strange temporal phenomenon she experienced over a matter of days. Original statement given February 29th, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London..."

The statement was basic enough. Just the ramblings of a woman who swore up and down that she had lived the same day 5 separate times. There was no evidence given. No proof in the slightest. Jon was quick to dismiss the whole thing as a dream and a waste of his time. Though there were a few details that did stick out to him. First, Ms. Whitley claimed to actively be experiencing the phenomenon as she gave her statement. If this was true and her story was to be believed, she must have given the statement on the last day of her experience. Otherwise, it would be safe to reason that the statement might no longer exist due to it never having been given in the current timeline. Second, she made mentions of the only thing that seemed to change being a strange man with curly blond hair. She claims to have seen him every day, but in contrast to everything else which was identical, he was always in a different place, doing a different thing, at a different time when she saw him. While Jon couldn’t quite place his finger on it, this sounded familiar for some reason.

And finally, when Martin interviewed her, she seemed to have no recollection of the event at all. She didn't even remember giving the statement. In fact, she claimed to have never heard of the Magnus Institute at all.

No matter. A woman who came in once years ago to talk about what was undoubtedly a dream she had not remembering doing so was the farthest thing from supernatural Jon could possibly think of at the moment. Though it was hard to think of anything at all through his pounding headache.

Soon after he finished recording, he heard a knock at his door. He called for whoever it was to come in, only to be greeted by Martin in a dark blue jumper, hands wrapped around a mug of what was undoubtedly tea. Martin wasn’t good at many things around the office, but if he was good at anything, it was making tea. And some warm tea sounded like just what Jon needed to chase this headache away.

“H-Hi. Good morning, Jon. I’ve just made some tea, would you like some?”

“I actually would. Thank you, Martin.”

Martin shuffled over to the desk and set Jon’s tea down on the only bare spot he could find.

“Is there, uh- Do you need anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Martin.” Jon waved him off. He had considered asking him to file the statement he just finished reading, but after a moment’s consideration he realized he didn’t exactly trust Martin to file it correctly. No matter. He’d have Tim do it shortly when he went to pass out their assignments. Martin left, closing the door gently behind him.

Speaking of their assignments, Jon turned to the stack of statements on his desk. He began to sort them into piles for each of his assistants. While splitting them into 6, 7, and 7 would make the most sense, he had noticed that it took Martin quite a bit longer than the others to finish his reports, so he decided to only give him 5. He then gave Tim 7 and Sasha 8. She could always handle the extra workload. Not to mention, Jon was pretty sure when Martin got behind Sasha picked up his extra cases anyway. A couple of his reports sounded more like her writing than his. Not that Jon particularly cared, as long as the work got done. He just wished Martin could keep up with the others given how overloaded they were with cases to follow up on.

By the time he’d sorted out the assignments for the day it was already lunchtime. He might not have even noticed the time if Tim hadn’t swung his door open (without knocking) and invited him out to lunch with him, Martin, and Sasha.

Jon, of course, refused, stating he had too much work to get done, but asked Tim to file the Addison Whitley statement before leaving. Though, rather than working through lunch (for once), Jon decided to head to the break room and rest on the couch for a bit with the lights off and an ice pack over his eyes. 

He told himself it would only be for about 10 or 15 minutes. Surely he’d be back at his desk before the others returned from their outing. But before he knew it, he sunk into the comfort of the break room sofa and the cooling relief of the ice pack and drifted off to sleep. A fact he wouldn’t have even noticed had it not been for the alarm clock waking him up. His alarm clock. At home. Next to his bed. Waking him up for work.

What?

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Chapter Text

Jon tossed and turned in the bed next to Martin--a place he could still scarcely believe he was laying--unable to quiet his mind enough for sleep. Sharing a bed with his new boyfriend brought up... concerns, to say the least.

Their relationship had been forced to progress rather quickly due to the lack of a second bed in Daisy's cabin. Martin had offered to take the couch if it would make Jon more comfortable, but after nearly losing him to the Lonely, Jon wasn't too keen to let Martin out of his sight.

Besides, they had decided on the ride up that they both liked each other and wanted to start "dating" (as much as two people can date while holed up in a safehouse in another country hiding from both police and eldritch forces), so sharing a bed was okay, right? It was a normal and natural thing to do with someone with whom one was in a relationship. 

Jon's worry was that it would lead to... other normal and natural things people did in relationships. Things that Jon most certainly did not do in any of his past relationships and hadn't planned to start now. His worry wasn't that they would have sex. Jon knew for a fact that was completely off the table. His worry was that the fact that it was off the table would drive Martin away entirely.

Despite the newness of their relationship, Jon had really fallen in love with Martin. He couldn't imagine losing something so new and precious that they had together over the fact that he was born wrong. But he'd accepted long ago that this wasn't something he could change about himself. It was just something he had to live with. The lingering question was, was it something Martin could live with as well?

"Everything alright?" Martin asked groggily. Jon's not sure if he woke him up or kept him from sleeping at all.

"Y-yes. Yes, everything's fine." Jon turned to face Martin, but he couldn't make out much more than vague outlines of his features in the dark. Sure, he could See if he wanted to, but he was trying harder not to do that with the people he cared about.

A skeptical tone entered Martin's voice. "You're sure? You don't seem alright."

"I, uh, it's just that, I don't..." Jon trailed off.

Martin gave him a moment, and then when he didn't continue "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know." Jon smiled. He was glad the lights were off because he could feel the heat of his cheeks flushing and he didn't need to be any more embarrassed in this moment than he already was. "I'm just- I don't think I'm ready yet. I want to tell you. But I need more time."

"Oh Jon." Martin leaned forward and planted a kiss in the middle of Jon's forehead. "It's ok. Take as long as you need. I'm here when you're ready."

Jon's heart fluttered. He still wasn't ready to tell Martin he didn't want to have sex with him, but this reassurance made him feel a little less scared for the outcome when he did. Maybe things would be ok after all.

Chapter Text

It had been three days in the safehouse and neither one of them wanted to broach the subject, but Jon was sure Martin knew what was happening at this point.

I mean, how could he not? Jon was seeing it all from the outside--the chill in the air that lingered around Martin, how his eyes grew cloudy when he was tired or lost in thought, how first thing in the morning he didn't look quite as tangible as he was the rest of the day--but Martin was living it. Surely, he'd noticed. Surely, he was scared. But Jon didn't feel right being the one to bring it up. He felt that if Martin wanted to talk about it, he'd come to him when he was ready.

Jon remembered how it felt to slowly become something you're not, until it's something you are. And you have no choice but to accept it and move on, else you'll stop living entirely. He remembered realizing how easily answers came when he asked for them. He remembered the first times he'd suddenly known something he hadn't prior. He remembered reading and listening to languages he had no idea how to speak and yet comprehending them completely.

He remembered the way everyone looked at him like he was a monster for things that fell entirely out of his control. Everyone except Martin.

Sure, he'd been stern about Jon feeding on random civilians, but that was rather warranted, actually. And most importantly, he still treated him like a person. Through it all, no matter what Jon did, no matter what he became, Martin never stopped seeing the humanity in him. He never stopped seeing Jon for who he liked to believe he still was deep down inside, despite the circumstances. 

Jon knew how it felt to see yourself becoming someone you don't recognize, and he knew how important it was to have someone by your side who still saw the real you behind it all. He was determined to be that for Martin, no matter how much it pained him to see him like this.

Jon never wanted this for Martin, though that pretty much goes without saying. He never wanted this for anyone, especially himself, but he had hoped deep down that Martin would be spared of it all in the end. They never really were that lucky, though, he supposed.

When Martin came down for Breakfast, he was sluggish and tired, and as such, had the faintest glint of translucence to him. He looked as if all the color on and around him had been dulled ever so slightly, and Jon could have sworn that as he walked past the painting on the wall, he could still see the outline of it through Martin's head. Martin shuffled off to the kitchen to make himself some tea and Jon closed the book he was reading before rising off the couch to follow closely behind.

Martin moved a well-oiled machine, going through the motions of making tea as swiftly and seamlessly as Jon had ever seen. He grabbed his favorite mug from the cupboard and went to set it on the counter when it slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor. Jon could hardly believe his eyes, but he didn't have to. He Knew exactly how the mug had fallen--it slipped directly through Martin's hand, no longer tangible enough to hold it.

Martin knew it too, as he immediately crumpled to the floor and began to sob. Jon quickly followed, reaching for Martin's shoulders and struggling to find a grip. Eventually, he caught a moment when Martin was more solid and began rubbing his back. This seemed to help pull him more firmly into physicality, but the light in his eyes still flickered as tears poured out of them.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Martin wailed

"It's ok." Jon hushed. "It's just a mug. We'll get a new one."

"No not the mug!" Martin uttered between sobs. "I didn't want- want you to see me like this. I'm so sorry."

"Hey." Jon eased Martin's shoulders until he was facing him. "It's ok. You don't have to be sorry. If anyone knows what you're going through right now, it's me."

They both glanced over at the shattered mug.

"Ok maybe not directly, but I know what it's like to change in ways you don't want and can't control. I know how scary it can be to let other people see that, but really, you don't have to hide it from me. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you did."

"I- I was just scared." Martin hiccupped, gradually calming down. "I know how you get sometimes. I didn't want you to feel responsible for- for this. Because you're not."

Martin took a deep breath and sighed. "This is all me."

"Well thank you for considering my feelings, but you really didn't need to. Regardless of how it happened, we're here now. And I'm here for you. I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner. I just didn't want to bring it up until you were ready."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm here for you. I love you, Martin."

"I love you, too, Jon."

Chapter Text

Jon was, in a word, exhausted.

After a wild goose chase around the world, Jon wished he could say it was good to be home. But while entering the archives brought a sort of... relief?--he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to unpack all of what that meant yet--he still felt ready to collapse at any moment. He set his pile of documents on his desk. The stack of notes and statements and casefiles was topped with Gerry's page. He cast it a mournful glance but decided it would have to be something to be dealt with at a later time. He slipped the page into his top desk drawer and began shuffling through the rest of the files before him when the door creaked open.

"Jon!" Martin stood in the open doorway, stunned. "I- I thought I heard something so I- but- you're back!"

"I am."

Martin smiled at that, and Jon let out a half-amused chuckle. "What? Did you miss me?"

Jon could feel the Eye's influence slip its way into his voice. He didn't mean to. Of course he didn't. He would never compel Martin on purpose, especially not for something so juvenile. But with just returning from his trip and how exhausted he was, he wasn't sure he'd be able to control it right now if he tried. And admittedly, he wasn't really trying. Not very hard anyway.

The look on Martin's face already told him more than enough. Martin swallowed, though Jon couldn't tell if he was fighting the compulsion or his own emotions. "Yes. Yes of course I did! I missed you every day!"

Martin's expression turned from hopeful relief to something between embarrassment and annoyance. "I mean I- We all- Ugh Jon!"

"Sorry, sorry. I really didn't mean to do that."

Martin sighed. "It's fine. Just try not to, alright? But yes. I did miss you. Things don't feel right around here when you're not around."

Once again, Jon wasn't entirely sure he wanted to unpack the implications of that. Sure, Martin could be talking about his own feelings of being out of place, but somehow Jon doubted that was all there was to it.

"Well, for what it's worth, Martin, I missed you as well."

"Y- You- You what? You did?"

Jon just nodded. "A lot of things happened to me out there while I was gone. I couldn't help but long for a friendly face every now and then."

"Oh." Martin looked flattered. A gentle blush crept its way into his cheeks as a shy smile spread across his face.

"What? Surprised?" The pull came once more. Jon tried, this time, to stop it, but all too late. "Oh wait no- Martin I'm so-"

He was cut off.

"A bit, yeah. Sometimes it still feels like you kinda hate me. So yeah, I'm pleasantly surprised to hear that you'd want me around. Even if that's just because it's better than being alone."

Martin didn't protest this time. He just retreated into himself. Sure, he knew Jon hadn't meant to do it, but he clearly still wasn't keen on the idea of spilling his deepest thoughts and feelings to a man who he, apparently, thought hated him.

"Martin, I-" Jon's voice broke, slightly. "I don't hate you. I never have. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I did."

"It's fine." Clearly it wasn't, but Jon didn't want to press the issue.

"I know you can't- uh- Ask me in return, but I hope you believe I'm being truthful when I say this."

Marin looked up and met Jon's gaze.

"I care about you, Martin. I really do."

Martin's eyes welled with tears as his face flushed even harder. He seemed to notice this shortly after Jon did because he removed his glasses wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper, hiding his face in the process.

"Oh, w- well. I should really get back to work. I just came to see what the noise was. I- I'm glad you're back." Martin rushed back out the door, but not before turning back briefly to say, "Oh, and, uh- Thank you, Jon. I care about you, too."