Work Text:
“Martin, we need to get you out of the archives.”
Martin trembles in the uncomfortable wooden chair across from Jon’s office. Strange how this uncomfortable chair is one of Martin’s favourite places to be. Usually. Not now. He twists the hem of his jumper in his hands as he looks down, trying not to panic or burst into tears.
“Yes, Jon. I understand. Too much of an imposition. I can pack up my things… I’m sure I can manage a hotel for a night or two while I figure something out…”
“Good lord, Martin” Jon huffs. “I meant out for the evening! Get you to stretch your legs a bit. You’re starting to fade into the furniture here. We need to get you some fresh air. Of course I am not suggesting you move out entirely! It’s not safe with Prentiss out there.”
“Oh. Sorry, I just assumed…” Martin replies in a small voice. “Good, yes. Of course, you’re right. But… where do you want me to go?”
Jon rifles through the stack of statements on his desk. “Here, this one. Needs some follow-up. Don’t worry, nothing in any way insect or arachnid related. Probably just a wandering vole got into the shed looking for some shelter, but still. Shouldn’t ignore the follow up.”
Martin is getting dizzy from the emotional rollercoaster from the anxiety spike of being called into the boss’ office to the mortal terror of being kicked out of the only remotely safe place to stay to relief that he can stay and now here the terror is back again…
“Jon, I know I haven’t been terribly useful just staying in and making tea and filing, but I am not sure I am ready to go back out there on my own after everything…”
Jon peers over his glasses in surprise. “Of course not, Martin. I wouldn’t dream of sending you off by yourself, even if it is perfectly safe. After your little… excursion into Mr. Vittery’s building went… so poorly, there is a strict policy of no-one doing fieldwork on their own. Since Tim and Sasha are already assigned to another follow-up, I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for this one. We’ll catch the 3:30 to Clapham Park, if you’re amenable.”
And Martin’s emotional rollercoaster ride continues. “Yes, of course, Jon. I’ll be ready.”
_______________
The half hour tube ride was awkward, to say the least, with Martin spending most of his time pretending to write in his poetry notebook and Jon rifling through notes he has already read over many times. They arrive and speak briefly with the homeowner, but she reiterates that the suspicious sounds and activities only happen at night, so she has taken to spending nights over at her sister’s flat. She gives Jon the key to the shed in the back garden so they can have a look for themselves.
There seems to be nothing amiss – no strange books, no shelves of mysteriously beating hearts, no secret passages into tunnels dug under it. Just a shed. Quite sturdy, really. Some gardening tools, various outdoor furniture cushions, a dusty picnic blanket, everything appears perfectly normal. Still, it is light out, so that is to be expected.
After agreeing to stop over again after dark, Jon and Martin go to find something to eat. They decide on a Mediterranean place about a fifteen-minute walk away. After some awkward conversation, they settle on ordering the meat-skewers ‘For two’ meal so they can try a bit of everything. Martin attempts to avoid acknowledging the feeling in his stomach when Jon tells the server “For two.” It has been a very long time since either of them has ordered anything intended for sharing.
Jon clears his throat. “Well, Martin. How is it? Being out of the Institute for a while?”
“Erm, well…” Martin feels himself blushing and hopes the lighting is low enough that Jon doesn’t notice. It isn’t. “It is nice knowing the world is still… out here. And not. You know. Covered in worms. So good I guess?”
“Right, good.” Jon has exhausted his repertoire of small talk. Back to awkward silence and avoiding eye contact it is, then.
“It is nice seeing you at a restaurant.” Martin says, after what feels like an eternity of silence. “I…I mean. Not like a da….ahhh… I just mean. You forget to eat. A lot. It is nice to see you remembering food. You know. Exists.”
“I suppose you’re right. I do tend to lose track. End up absorbed in a statement or following some train of thought before getting caught in Gertrude’s lack of filing system and suddenly the day has gotten away from me entirely.” Jon pauses, then adds, “I usually at least eat a biscuit or two though.”
Martin smiles gently knowing that Jon only eats those because they appear on his desk next to his mug of tea. It had taken him quite a lot of trial and error to determine what food Jon would actually consume if it was left within arm’s reach. Is it weird that he has been experimenting on his boss in an effort to get the stubborn git to actually eat something? Probably…
Martin’s thoughts are broken by the arrival of their food. As they divide their portions, Martin thrills at getting to learn a little more about what food Jon prefers and files it away for a future date. No. Not a date. This is work. Not a date. Shut up, Martin’s brain. This is in no way a date just because it happens to be a nice restaurant with romantic lighting and an entrée meant ‘for two.’ It’s just work. Just a couple of co-workers passing the time waiting for it to get dark so they can check to see if a shed is… haunted? Possessed? Being used by a squatter who is taking unfair advantage of the homeowner’s paranoia? Right. Nothing romantic about it.
“Sun’s setting.” Jon notes. “Should we get some tea and sit a while, then head back?”
“Tea, yes. Tea sounds lovely.”
Yes, tea ‘For two’ does sound lovely, doesn’t it?
Shut up, Martin’s brain.
_______________
After a decent pot of Earl Grey and some more awkward lack of conversation, it is now dark enough for them to step back out into the chilly March evening. Jon walks the return route without glancing at his phone for directions. How does he do that? Martin has never understood how some people can just remember how they get to and from places. His sense of direction has never been a particularly strong suit.
They arrive back at the house and go in once again to look out at the shed from the kitchen window to get the same vantage point Gloria Schaffer has had when seeing the strange figures and hearing odd howling noises out back. The shed is in full shadow, and tree limbs around it sway, but there are no signs of mysterious figures or untoward noises. After waiting for a couple of hours to note any changes, they decide to call it a night. Ms. Schaffer slings her overnight bag over her shoulder as she heads out behind them.
“Would you mind terribly if I held onto the shed key? We’ll just make another round or two before heading back ourselves.” Jon asks.
“Of course. Just leave it under the blue planter on your way out. I appreciate you coming out all this way. Let me know if you see anything.” She replies.
“Yes, yes. We’ll be in touch.”
Martin and Jon watch her get into a cab and head out into the night. Maybe they should splurge for a cab ride back to the institute. It is getting pretty late…
“Martin!” Jon snaps with impatience. “Let’s go out back and check out the shed once more so we can get out of here. I want to get back to the office and take care of a few more things.”
Martin winces, then turns to follow. “Jon, it is late. You should be getting home. I’m glad you ate an actual meal. Maybe now you should try getting a full night’s sleep. For once.”
“Yes, Martin. Your concern is noted.” Martin can tell by Jon’s tone that the concern is noted and will be ignored. At least he tried. Jon continues, “Ok. Shed still looks. Basically like a shed. This has been a complete waste of time and institute resources, hasn’t it?”
Martin shrugs. “Well, her statement did record to the laptop without issue, so I doubt there is anything spooky about it.”
Jon closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I thought I had made my feelings on that word perfectly clear. “Spooky” is not an accurate, precise, or professional term and has no place in our work. Come on. Let’s just get this over with.”
Jon reaches into his bag and pulls out a couple of small torches and hands one to Martin. They both head into the shed. Martin notes again that it is fairly spacious for a back garden shed in this area. Honestly, his first flat with his mum after his dad left them wasn’t much bigger. Thinking of his mum reminds him that he hasn’t called in a while. He really should see if Tim or Sasha could help him get his phone replaced. The familiar feeling of guilt and being overwhelmed by basic human adult tasks washes over Martin. He barely notices the shed door close.
Jon, on the other hand, jumps at the sudden, unexpected noise. He looks quizzically at the door, then sighs and turns the handle.
The door does not open.
_______________
“Martin?” Jon tries to keep the note of panic out of his voice. He does not succeed. “Martin. Would you mind terribly seeing if you are able to open the door? It appears to be… stuck.”
“Of course, not a problem.” Martin carefully allows Jon to move aside so he doesn’t accidentally brush against him as he moves to the door. Jon notices the slight smile he has come to recognize on Martin’s face. The same one he has when Jon asks him to grab a box of files that is up just a bit too high for him. Or open a canister that has gotten stuck. Jon smiles for a moment in return, glad that the torch light is not pointed in his direction. The smile fades quickly as Martin has no more luck with the door than Jon did.
Well. That’s… not ideal.
“Jon, the door isn’t stuck. It’s locked. It looks like it only locks from the outside? Do you have Gloria’s number? Could you call and see if she can come let us out?”
Jon closes his eyes in embarrassment, once again glad Martin cannot clearly see his face. “I’m afraid I rather… forgot to charge my phone before we left. It ran out of battery while we were at dinner. Was hoping… I was hoping it wouldn’t come up. Could you try calling Sasha? Or maybe Tim? I think his place is closer.”
Martin’s voice shifts higher the way Jon notices it does when he is frightened. “I haven’t got a phone, Jon. I never replaced it after… after Prentiss. Figured it didn’t matter since I’m always in the institute anyway. Got my email and got the office phones, no one really calls the cell much anyway. Not like my mum ever calls, and the care home has my work number-”
“Yes, yes. All right, Martin. It’s …fine.” Jon attempts to cut off Martin’s panicked ramblings, though he feels his own heartrate spiking as he considers their lack of options.
Martin moves away from the door and Jon returns. He runs his hands along the seam of the door, the handle, looking for a weakness that can be exploited. He sets his torch aside and begins pounding steadily on the door. “Hello? Hello, is anyone there? We’re stuck! Hello??” He pounds a few more times, then pauses to listen for a response. Nothing from outside, but he hears shallow rapid breaths mingled with choked sobs coming from behind him. Oh. Oh no. He was knocking. On the door. How could he have been so thoughtless?
“Martin?” Jon adjusts the torch to illuminate the area around Martin, but he carefully avoids directing it at his face. He approaches slowly with his palms open and outstretched. “I’m so sorry, Martin. It was just me. I was just… I was trying to see if anyone out there could hear us. I didn’t mean… I didn’t think.”
Martin has pulled his knees up to his chest and does not appear to have heard anything Jon said. He is fully hyperventilating at this point, and Jon reflects that he has not often been on this side of a panic attack and he is not well equipped to deal with it. He thinks back to what Georgie used to do when he would spiral during particularly rough patches back at uni. Moving very slowly, he lowers himself to kneel beside Martin.
“Martin, I am going to try to help. Can you nod your head if you can hear and understand me?”
Martin’s eyes dart toward Jon’s face, still registering nothing but terror, but he does manage a small nod.
“Thank you, Martin. That is very good. Now, I would like to touch you, but I will only do so with your express permission. Is it ok for me to touch you?”
Another nod.
“You’re doing very well, Martin.” Jon begins rubbing circular motions on Martin’s back. He continues speaking softly to him. “It’s all right, Martin. I’ve got you. You are not alone. We are not in immediate danger. We are ok.” Jon reaches for Martin’s arm, gently guiding it away from its position clutched around Martin’s knees. He places Martin’s palm against his chest. “Can you feel me breathe, Martin?”
Jon takes a couple of slow, deep breaths. Martin’s breath begins to calm, though it is still far too quick and shallow. Martin’s eyes focus on Jon more clearly and he nods again.
“Good. Ok, we are going to do some square breathing. We’ll breathe in for four counts, hold for four counts, breathe out for four counts, hold for four counts. You can count in your head with me, or just feel my chest and match my breath.”
Jon and Martin lock eyes and breathe together. Both lose count of how many times. But eventually, Martin’s posture relaxes. He nods in thanks, then begins to breathe normally on his own. Jon takes a deep breath and lets it out in relief, then notices his hand is still resting on Martin’s back. He snatches it away and quickly gets back to his feet.
_______________
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. He’d had a full-blown panic attack. On a work assignment. In front of Jon. Shit.
“Martin… I wanted to… I want to apologize. I should have warned you before making loud noises in an enclosed space. That was… thoughtless and inappropriate. Especially given… recent events.”
Martin reaches a hand out to reassure Jon, but he stops short of making actual contact.
“No, I know you didn’t do anything intentionally. I didn’t really think… I haven’t really heard any knocking since… well since I left my flat. Didn’t realize I would… react like that. Not your fault.” Jon looks like he wants to say something, but he isn’t sure what. Martin continues. “Thanks, by the way. For… for the… the breathing thing. I’m not usually great at pulling myself out of… those. I’m. I’m glad you were here.”
“Yes, well. I’ve never been good at pulling myself out of those, either. I’m glad I could… I’m glad I could help. Even if I was the one who caused it.” Jon moves away, embarrassed. “I think we may be stuck here. Until morning. Tim and Sasha know where we are going, so when we aren’t back and they can’t reach us, they’ll know where to look. They should be able to locate Ms. Schaffer’s number and come get us. This isn’t an ideal situation, but we aren’t in any real immediate danger.”
Martin had, unfortunately, reached a similar conclusion. The shed was built solidly with thick wooden walls and appeared to have some insulation, though there was no source of heat. There were a couple of small windows, but nothing large enough for even Jon to climb through. So, not airtight, but soundproof enough that calling for help without a phone was not going to get them far. And, while the night air was chilly, at least they weren’t here in the middle of winter.
“I guess no one will be able to say we didn’t investigate this one thoroughly enough.” Martin attempted to lighten the mood.
“Quite.” Jon responds drily. “Doesn’t look like there’s much here in the way of comfort, but we should probably do what we can. Might as well settle in. We’ll be here for a while.”
Jon and Martin use their torches to locate all the spare cushions and Martin brings over the picnic blanket. He’s noticed Jon trying to pretend he isn’t shivering. The ridiculous man is wearing a light jacket that is not suitable for current temperatures.
“Here, Jon. You should wrap up. You look freezing.” Everything in Martin’s brain is yelling at him to turn his favourite Head Archivist into a warm, blanketed burrito, but that would not be appropriate. Jon looks at the blanket in Martin’s outstretched hand and looks as though he might protest, but he relents and takes it gratefully. He wraps the blanket around himself and sits in a small pile of cushions. Martin feels his cheeks warm. Jon is adorable.
“Aren’t you cold?” Jon asks, almost accusingly.
Martin has shoved his hands into his pockets, but otherwise he seems entirely unbothered by the temperature. “Not really? It isn’t all that bad out. Above freezing, at least. And I’ve always run warm. Got plenty of extra padding, after all!” Martin chuckles at the self-depreciation. Jon narrows his eyes, but he does not comment. “And, well. I guess I’m used to it. Mum wasn’t always great at remembering the heating bill, and even when she did, we kept the heating set low to save money.”
“Ah, I see.” Jon is clearly embarrassed by the personal turn this discussion has taken. “I suppose the best course of action is to try to get some sleep. Did you want to sleep in shifts so we can keep an ear out for help or… evidence of the disturbances Ms. Schaffer has reported?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s unnecessary. Honestly, I think she just likes staying at her sisters’ place. Probably had an animal in here, like you said, then decided to exaggerate for sympathy. I think, if something else were occurring here, we would have noticed by now.” Martin shifts and places his torch so it shines directly out one of the windows. “And now, if anyone stops by, they’ll know to look here. No need for us to be cold and exhausted.”
“Fair point. Well, I suppose it isn’t much worse than sleeping at my desk.” Jon and Martin create their separate nests and curl in attempting to get some rest.
Martin is just starting to drift off when he hears the unmistakeable sound of chattering teeth.
“Jon. This is ridiculous. You’re going to get sick. Or lose a toe. Or something.”
Jon clamps his mouth shut to stop the chattering, but his shivering breaths are still clearly audible. “Well, Martin. What do you propose? I can’t exactly turn up the thermostat.”
Martin takes a deep breath. He’s really going to do this. “Jon. It’s just basic logic. You’re cold. The only heat source we have right now is our body heat. It is unreasonable to allow some arbitrary social conventions to prevent us from properly pooling our resources…”
Jon swallows audibly. “So, Martin, just to be clear. Your solution is. What? Cuddles?”
“Well, erm, no, not as such… I mean… I suppose? Kind of?” Martin stammers. “It wouldn’t mean… more huddling for warmth than cuddling, but I suppose that is more… semantics than anything…” Martin sighs. “Jon. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, but I couldn’t listen to you shivering yourself apart without offering some kind of solution.”
“Well, Martin, I don’t know that comfortable is really an option here, but, I suppose your logic is. Well, it is rather sound.” Jon still makes no motion towards closing the distance between them.
“All right, then. Um. Did you… did you want to come over here or did you want me to go over there then?” Martin asks gently.
“I just. I just need a moment. I will be over shortly.” Jon takes a few steadying breaths, then begins shifting his nest of cushions over to join Martin’s. “I suppose, after all, the blanket is big enough.”
“Yes.” Martin replies. “Big enough. For two.”
Jon curls himself against Martin, carefully facing away, but not avoiding contact. That is, after all, the whole point. Gingerly, Martin wraps an arm protectively around Jon, waiting for sounds of protest. He hears none. After a few minutes, Jon’s shivering slows, then stops entirely. He shifts ever so slightly closer to Martin, and the tension he has been holding all night – actually, since the first day he started this job – finally begins to melt. Martin holds Jon wordlessly to him knowing this can only last for the night and will be a studiously ignored forbidden topic by morning, but for now. For now, Jon is letting him take care of him. Protect him. Keep him warm.
_______________
“Hey! Marto! Bossman! Rise and shine!” Jon blinks. He wakes, disorientated, confused that, despite sleeping on a cold floor, he feels more rested than he has in months. Then he remembers. The locked door. The cold night. Martin’s arms. That’s… well. That’s neither here nor there. It was just the cold. Nothing untoward about the whole…
“Good morning, Tim. I take it you noted our absence.” Jon replies in is most official boss voice.
“We did. You’re always the first one in, and Martin lives in the Institute, so it wasn’t difficult noticing things had not gone according to plan. We followed standard procedure from there, got the extra key from Gloria and here we are.” Sasha’s voice is bright and professional, but Jon notes the barely repressed teasing beneath. “And you were correct in the conclusion you reached in your notes, Jon. Gloria’s sister is deeply superstitious, and has a guest room in a flat much closer to Gloria’s job. It was a little white lie that got out of hand when her sister brought her to us to make a statement. I think she just wanted to see inside the institute, to be honest. Those types always do.”
“Ah. Well then. Thank you, Tim, Sasha, for the rescue.” Jon glances at Martin, who has turned beet red and is busying himself replacing the cushions and blanket, carefully avoiding looking at anyone or drawing attention to himself. “I would say the investigation is fully concluded here. Let’s all get back to work.”
“C’mon, boss. We came out all this way! You could at least spring for coffee before we head back! Maybe even a muffin. Sash, don’t you think we’ve earned a muffin?” Tim doesn’t wait for a reply, but puts his arm around Jon and speaks in a much lower tone. “Well, boss. It looks like your night wasn’t all bad. You looked pretty cozy this morning, at least.”
Jon considers, then looks up. “Yes, Tim. I suppose I was.”