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It had been an exceedingly long day, made worse by the beaming sun and shifting sands of coastal South Carolina. Every time Jon had said something about it, some local would almost impulsively blurt out “Nah, but it's the humidity that'll get you!” And that, of itself, was almost more interesting than the creature they had been trying to find all day.
Many said the Folly Beach Monster was just a case of “old fish finally reaching shore”, but Tim had firmly believed that couldn't be true. He said that there had to be more out there, something to record for the masses. They weren't even in Folly Beach though, that was apparently some ways down coast. But Tim assured Jon it was fine, the poor guy just wanted a break from his popularity, probably swam up north to find some peace of mind. Nevermind the fact that the creature hadn't been seen in more than a decade.
So Jon rolls his eyes and carries on, hands shoved deep in cargo short pockets, occasionally casting glares at his more outgoing coworkers. He still didn't understand how they just, did things without having to agonize over every last detail. Especially Martin, who continued to pace along like a lost puppy, hot on the heels of whoever was closest. He'd gotten closer to the man over the course of their trip, maybe even harbored a small crush, but he couldn't help that the heat made him crueler. If given the chance to sit in one of the many coffee shops with A/C? He'd be much more amicable, especially if they had odd flavor options.
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As the day wound to a close, the cryptid crew found themselves squished together in a hole in the wall bar and grill. It was an interesting location, tacky in the way only an American could enjoy. The walls were plastered in old license plates, with marker scrawls covering every inch of wall left. Some were still legible, declarations of a person being there, or hearts with initials typically scribbled out, a testament to an “unbreakable” love.
The food was decent enough, if a little weird. Jon didn't want to stray too far from what he was used to, especially so when they offered things like “the PB+Bacon Burger”, which was right up Tim's alley. So Jon ordered something a bit more tame, and chewed his fries pensively as he watched everyone else.
Jon had spaced out, likely for some time, because the next thing he remembers is Sasha tugging his sleeve, holding a permanent marker out like a peace offering.
“Sign the table with us? We have to let people know we were here!” She says, pointing out a spot on the table that had a silly little doodle of their logo, with Tim and Martin's signature curling around the design.
Jon thought about it for a moment, weighing the option of being perceived to appeasing his friends. Eventually he decides it's worth it, inking his name with a flourish. He smiles as Sasha signs her name, and whips her phone out to start taking pictures. Jon tries to slink away from the camera, but someone grabs his shirt collar, tugging him back in to the fray. And Jon even tries to smile, though he feels it doesn't reach his eyes.
They must think it's good enough though, because they disperse, chattering about what to do next. Tim and Sasha were thinking about heading back down to the shore, to take a “romantic twilight walk” together. Which meant Martin and Jon had to fend for themselves. Great.
“Hey Jon? I uhm, I saw an ice cream shop over near our hotel? It looked pretty quaint, maybe they have a nice selection?” Martin spoke meekly, like he was expecting Jon to turn him down and fuss him out for the suggestion.
And well? Maybe Jon would have, if he hadn't spent enough time around the taller man to be comfortable. And perhaps he had been unnecessarily rude lately. And yeah, he felt bad. Martin wasn't a bad guy, just, quirky in a sense. Aaaaand, he was staring off into space.
“Y-yeah. Ice cream sounds nice. There should be something nice over there.” And sweet, Jon hoped. He could go for some more sugar, his backpack stash was running low, and he needed to ration until their next weird convenience store trip.
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The ice cream shop was just as nice as Martin made it seem. It was low lit, with old fashioned tables and chair with spindly iron backs. Even the counter was old fashioned, striped in an old timey lacquer. The menu was written in chalk, looping script describing each flavor they had in stock.
Jon was immediately drawn to the strawberry swirl sorbet, described as a mix of sorbet and ice cream, tasting “just like a fruity float”. It seemed pretty interesting, more than enough to sate his sweet tooth. A quick glance shows Martin's gaze darting between him and the board, like he was waiting for Jon to decide first.
Jon steps forward, not quite meeting the barista's eye, instead staring at the oversized dangling earrings, little chains of stars hanging from the lobe. “Hello, could I, get 2 scoops of the strawberry? The sorbet one please,” Jon points to it on the board, like he needed to solidify his choice for the person at the counter.
They assure Jon it'll be out soon, so Jon goes to sit, waiting on Martin to decide what he wanted, and to pay. Which wasn't a problem, it was his turn to pay for food. Jon busies himself with the edge of a napkin, worrying the texture between his fingers until it's smooth, or it rips one.
Jon doesn't get the chance to find out, Martin having turned the corner with both their sweet treats. He holds them up with a smile, hustling over and setting them on the table. The chair squeals against the linoleum flooring as Martin pulls it out, and he makes an apologetic face as he sits down, trying his best to keep it from scraping.
“Sorry about that Jon.”
Jon just rolls his eyes, pulling his ice cream cup closer, taking a moment to appreciate the little swirls of strawberry syrup in the sorbet. It looked so good, and tasted even better when Jon took a bite. He lets his eyes fall shut, savoring the sweet taste spreading across his tongue.
When he opens them, Martin had an odd look on his face. It was almost dumbstruck, his eyes soft but unfocused. He had his spoon halfway to his mouth, and doesn't react fast enough when his icecream drips off, spilling down his shirt. It leaves a conspicuous and sticky trail, and Martin groans as he watches it happen.
Jon panics, grabbing for the napkin dispenser at the same time Martin does. They knock it to the floor by accident, and Jon dives to grab it before it landed. He snatches it at the last second, and grabs frantically for some of the napkins.
“If we get this cleaned up quick it shouldn't stain too bad, hold still I'm going to wipe it off-” Jon was rubbing the handful of paper across Martin's shirt, eyebrows knit tightly as he surveyed the damage.
Martin grabs his hand, holding it still. “Jon, Jon I need you to take a deep breath. It's okay, its just a shirt, we can wash it when we get back to the hotel. Just take a moment for me please.”
Jon hadn't realized he was shaking, until Martin's hands had stopped the motion. He looks at Martin, and makes a conscious effort to breath, exaggerated breaths that the other man could see.
“There we go, that's good. Thank you Jon, I appreciate your help,” Martin's smile was wide, curling around the edges of teeth in a, honestly pretty cute way. It made his face light up, even more when Jon finally relaxed, his body releasing all the tension.
“Y-yeah, didn’t mean to cause a fuss. I'm sorry.”
Martin made a shooshing sound, pulling Jon a little closer, squeezing his wrist affectionately. It was akin to a hug, but in a way that didn't bother Jon with unnecessary contact. It made his heart do a little jump, and everything went fuzzy at the edges. He can hardly feel his mouth, but hears himself distantly when he asks “Can… Can I kiss you? Please?”
Of what Jon could still comprehend, he thinks he sees Martin's face go cherry red, matching the ice cream swirls Jon had been admiring just moments before. He stutters over a few words, before nodding effusively, already leaning forward just a hint, enough to show his intent, but give Jon the reins.
Their lips meet hesitantly, a brushing of chapped and bitten skin. Jon can feel Martin's breath against his skin, and he revels in the sensation before leaning back in, lips parting just slightly, enough to taste the bright, tart taste of blackberry lemon on Martin's skin.
He's met with a bit more resistance, Martin kissing back, a hum rolling from his chest. It was like things just connected, clicking into place, their lips fitting perfectly to the other.
They kiss for a moment longer, before a cough catches their attention. Both look up to see the barista giving them an exasperated, but fond look. “Sorry lovebirds, but we have to keep romantic revelations to a minimum here, and we hit our quota about 4 hours ago. Had a bridal party come through. Would you believe she was actually in love with her maid of honor? Yeah, weddings off btdubs.”
Jon and Martin look at each other, embarrassment spread across their faces, before breaking down in laughter. Martin stops first, and glances over at their ice cream.
“To go maybe? I think, we should head back to the hotel. To save my shirt! Not anything weird of course.”
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
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