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Hosting an institute party when it's normal head was behind bars and the Archives were in ruins was something Peter Lukas didn't much care about it seems. The tension in the air wasn't anything noteworthy, only palpable if you knew about Elias and the Archivist.
If anything really, Peter seemed to enjoy himself, watching as employees awkwardly danced around the fog, shivering ever so often from the cold air without having a clue about underlying issues. The only exception were the very few Archival staff waltzing around, glaring daggers at Peter and sticking out like sore thumbs with their tensed shoulders and awkward mumblings about Fears and whatnot. They never approached him or his assistant, though, always showing their hatred from a safe distance.
The undeniable life of the party was an obnoxiously cheerful intern from research. He matched everyone's shots, pulled people to the dance floor and talked to every employee that indulged him. He reminded Jon of Tim, back in their early days.
Even now, when he was talking his ear off and Jon seemed disinterested at best, irritated at worst. He swirled the drink in his cup, nursing a generous amount of red wine while feigning minimal interest in the conversation the bloke was trying to engage him in.
Ever so often the man would ask a question, more like quizzing him, to try and see if the Archivist was listening. Unbeknownst to him though, Jon didn't really need to listen, rapid-firing fitting answers whenever he was probed, as if he was truly listening.
Jon's actual focus laid elsewhere, with Martin, eyes zeroed in on the man shadowing everywhere Peter Lukas went to. He never opened his mouth, was overlooked all the time, employees only noticing there was a second person whenever they'd say their goodbyes and moved on to the next employee. It created a swirl of emotions, an odd mixture of jealousy, longing and anger. He dodged Jon's gaze like it was a professional game, the Archivist knowing Martin felt his gaze. He highly doubted anyone wouldn't take notice of it. That hunger he felt was surely reflected in his eyes, he was sure of it. Peter spared him a few glances, ever so often, but made a point to quickly look away like he tried to look at the sun, only to cringe away, blinded by its brilliance.
He finally decided to unceremoniously ditch the conversation without saying as much as a goodbye when Peter laid a hand on Martin's neck with the latter barely reacting to the touch, as if he didn't even feel it. It didn't sit right with him, especially when Peter leaned close to Martin's ear and whispered something with a smirk before the two of them faded, gone up in fog.
Jon's eyes widened, carelessly dropping his glass on the table with a loud clunk. He quickly darted straight through the crowd, side-stepping drunk employees that danced without rythm or sense of direction. He leaned away from elbows, taking a step to the side when someone threatened to step on his toe. That made way for awkward apologies whenever he did bump into someone, especially when they were sober.
Finally, slithering out of the mass of bodies, he stood on the spot where he'd last seen Peter and Martin. He frantically looked around, eyes snapping from wall to wall, only to end up without clues of where they may have ran off to. He took a deep breath, dropping his shoulders and forced his heart to calm down. No matter how much the Eye tried to make him feel fear and panic, he wouldn't. He wasn't of any use if he panicked.
The words Peter whispered that set him off kept replaying in his mind like a broken gramophone record. Jon was no lip reader, so to know what he'd said, he was for once in his life grateful to the Eye. "See how no one realized you were there, even when you stood right in front of them? You're better off with me alone, Martin. Let me make you truly Lonely."
Jon Knew for a fact then that this was Peter's ulterior motive for hosting the party. Make Martin think he truly is worthless and alone, for whatever scene he needed him next.
He finally calmed down enough, pressing the Eye for one more bit of Knowledge. Lonely be damned at this point.
_______
Martin felt his back be pressed against a solid surface, something cold, large and freezing pressuring at the front. He had half a mind to hold out his hands as protection, lightly pressing against the body that sandwiched him. "What are you doing?" His voice was distant, albeit annoyed. He frowned, looking up into the pale blue eyes piercing his own, keeping him in place while also assessing him and his willingness.
"Well," Peter started, raising his eyebrows, "what does it look like to you, Martin? I want to make you truly Lonely," he cheerfully responded.
Martin snorted, keeping his voice even. "How would you go about that?"
"No one would come to help you, in case I were to kiss you. Wouldn't that make you feel truly alone? Have you ever been kissed?" Martin wasn't an idiot, he caught the dangerous gleam Peter's eyes held, very aware of the heavy body caging him in."
"I'm not interested," he tried anyway, schooling his expression into one of disinterest, even if he felt a surge of adrenaline take shape.
Peter tilted his head. "Aren't you? I was of the impression you still cared about that little Archivist of yours. Is that fading?" he hummed, stroking his beard.
Martin bit his lip, frowning, regarding Peter. He was unsure what to think of the implication, what to answer, what the other thought was the right answer. "What do you want?" He retorted, throwing the ball back in Peter's court.
Peter smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't counter my question with a question."
"I—" Martin immediately fired back, then gulped, looking at his feet. "–obviously I do, Peter." He felt like a child admitting they'd done something bad.
"Then, what I want is for you to forget him. Succumb to the Lonely fully, Martin. He's not even approached you once tonig—"
"—I told him to leave me alone about a week ago. Don't mistake him respecting my boundaries for disinterest."
Martin's head snapped back up, the fire in his eyes rivalling Peter's steelly glare. Eventually, Peter broke out into a friendly smile again, snorting as he did. "So that's why he kept eyeing you," he hummed, eyes scanning Martin, as if he was some puzzle he needed to figure out.
Martin felt exposed, body burning where it made contact with Peter's. "My point stands. I want you to succumb to the Lonely fully. There really is only one way," he grinned widely, matching a Cheshire cat's one.
Martin felt the Avatar press harder against him, index finger sliding under his chin and gently tipping his head up.
"I already said I wasn't interested," Martin protested again, hand latching onto Peter's hand, struggling but succeeding in pushing it away, other hand finally putting pressure on Peter's chest, making the other stumble backwards once. Breathing felt a little easier now.
"And I do not care. If you don't want me to send that Archivist into the Lonely, then do as I say." His eyes held a dangerous, predatory gleam, panic blooming in Martin's body, heart already picking up. Finally, finally did he drop his pretentious lighthearted attitude.
"You wouldn't," Martin spit out, not hiding the poison in his tone, but weakening his grip nonetheless.
"Want to find out?"
And that's it then, isn't it? Martin was strong, could hold his own for sure when it comes down to it, but no strong person comes without their weaknesses, and this really is the one for Martin. With a resigned sigh, he released his grip on Peter's wrist, lowering his hands to his sides. Peter waited for something – likely Martin fully resisting, but smiled victoriously when he realized his assistant fully gave himself over.
With newfound vigor, he let his hands trail over Martin's body as he pleased, keeping his touch feather-light. The touch was so cold, it felt as though he was being burned. Martin cringed, but made no move to get Peter's hands off. He gulped, staring head-on at Peter, making him the slightest bit uncomfortable as silver lining.
"Let me make you Lonely, Martin," he murmured, probably meaning it lovingly, though it only came over to Martin as a threat. His head subconsciously leaned back when Peter's came closer, only stopping when he couldn't lean back any further, back of his head making contact with the wall.
Peter's eyes fluttered shut, and Martin couldn't do anything but mentally prepare himself for what was coming next. He tried to steel himself by taking a deep breath and holding it in, clenching his fists and anticipating Peter's lips on his own. Blood rushed to his head, heart in his throat, ears blocking out noise, fully focussed on that one moment about to happen.
Then, when he felt the Avatar's breath on his lips, Peter's eyes snapped open, body coming to a halt right before impact. He glared, retreated, then turned around. Martin released the breath he'd been holding, only to realize Peter wasn't going to elaborate on why he stopped.
Martin stood on his toes, looking over Peter's shoulder to see what caused him to suddenly stop.
Jon was standing there, handful of fabric of Peter's faded jacket, knuckles white and eyes zeroed in on the Lonely Avatar with a hard glare.
"Archivist," Peter reluctantly greeted.
Jon's eyes briefly flickered over to Martin face, then his tense posture and finally, his clenched fists. He then returned his glare to Peter, who he hadn't said anything to up to now.
"Peter," he greeted back, tone leveled, voice clipped.
Martin couldn't help but feel a surge of joy and protectiveness go through his body at seeing how small yet mighty Jon stood across the other Avatar and seeing the glare Peter was sending his way. His fingers twitched, urging from him to make sure the Lonely Avatar wouldn't touch Jon.
"Would you mind letting go of me? We were in the middle of something," Peter huffed, gaze disdainful, as if Jon was some dirty animal touching him.
The ice in Jon's gaze hardened even further, making Peter tense up the slightest bit. "I believe you were harassing Martin. His breathing picked up noticably right before I grabbed you."
Peter dared to laugh at that. A boisterous laugh that made Jon cringe, his fierceness wavering as insecurity slammed into him. "What's so funny?" He snapped, tone not as threatening as before. Martin frowned at that, wanting to grab his hand and drag him away from Peter as far as he could.
"Martin consented to this, Archivist. I'm not harassing anyone." His tone was filled with mirth.
The pitiful glare redirected into something more tender when his eyes trailed over to Martin. "Is that true, Martin?" His gaze shifted from concern to something akin to sadness.
"If it is, then I'll leave, but..." He bit his lip, then remembered the situation they were in, eyes snapping back to Peter. His gaze was filled with pure hatred, a green gleam flashing through his eyes.
Martin felt a wave of hope in his chest. He knew he had a choice to make, one that ran a little deeper than whether or not Jon was saving him from Peter kissing him. In case he indulged Peter, he had a feeling he'd lose Jon forever, even if he was protecting Jon up until now from that man. He really didn't feel like having Peter touch him all over either. It's been too long since he's even properly talked to anyone, and he missed it. There was no end in sight, and he had a feeling he wasn't special to Peter at all - he was merely a pawn, someone for him to knead into the perfect sacrifice.
If he agreed with what Peter was saying, he'd break Jon's heart, along with his own into a million pieces. Not only would he become truly Lonely, he'd have to pretend he'd give Peter consent, something they both knew Martin didn't actually give, tense body language and a look of gratefulness dancing in his eyes at the interruption.
In case he did let out a cry of help to Jon, his mission was as good as over. All that isolating and hard work for nothing, causing them both heartbreak without seeing it through. Maybe they were close to stopping the Extinction. But would he be able to keep it up, well-aware he was being manipulated and now even used? How far would Peter go? Was there even an end?
The choice didn't seem as much as a choice in the end, but rather like an end to a chapter. He opened his mouth, feeling two sets of eyes focus on him like a hawk. He looked at Jon, then at Peter right in front of him before clenching his eyes shut, letting himself be weak for once and having someone else take care of him. He let out a weak whimper, a signal of distress. And – really, that was enough for Jon, wasn't it?
"I don't want this," is what he let out quietly, and in an instant, Peter was off of him, a gust of wind making him open his eyes. Peter stood frozen as Jon opened his eyes fully, releasing his full power on him, letting his anger be known to the man that took Martin for himself and groomed him in a way. Peter stood there, unable to look away as Jon made him feel Seen, in and out.
Before Peter glitched out completely, he disappeared into the Lonely, clenching his eyes shut and struggling to disappear. The only reason he got away was because Martin's knees gave out, his body crumpling to the floor, which made Jon lose his focus, more concerned for Martin than the Avatar of the Lonely. The Archivist was at his side in an instant, dropping to his knees without a second thought. "Martin," Jon let out, right as Martin whispered his name.
Jon carefully laid a hand on Martin's shoulder, who sniffed, then leaned into his body heat and dropped his head on Jon's shoulder. "I am so so sorry Jon," was the first thing he said, laying a hand on Jon's knee, the other wrapping around his back in an awkward hug, a welcomed one nonetheless. He bathed in the physical presence of the man he's kept at an arm's length for too long.
"Don't be," Jon murmured, running a hand through Martin's hair. The touch was soft, kind, warm, and Martin finally broke, tears escaping his eyes. They were from fear, sadness and relief all at once.
"He didn't– uh..." Jon trailed off, turning the next words in his mind over, "I wasn't too late, was I?" He winced, afraid of the answer. Martin shook his head in Jon's neck best he could, in reality nuzzling closer. He then wrapped his arms around Jon's torso, holding him tight.
"No, right on time, actually."
There were no words they exchanged for a while after that. It was just the two of them. Jon played with his hair, while Martin hugged him without letting go, as if he'd disappear if he did. They still had a long way to go and a Peter to truly kill, but sitting in the afterglow of a meaningful controntation and a reunion was enough for now, music in the background a comforting background noise against the complete silence.
For now, this was enough, just basking in the presence of eachother, and a wordless promise they'd stick together from now on.