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“Oh, come now, Martin. What with the– the painted nails, and the earrings, I thought you were a rebel.”
“Yeah, okay, a ‘rebel’ is a much different thing than a criminal, okay, which is what you’re going to turn me into, Jon!”
“Eh, only a bit.” Jon gave Martin a sly look out the corner of his eye
“‘A bit’? Wh– you can’t just be ‘a bit’ of a criminal, Jon! It’s, hah, very much a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ type of thing, actually.”
“Oh, hush, like you’ve never done anything…slightly illegal before.”
Martin whisper-yelled, “No, Jon, I haven’t, because I’m not a criminal!” Martin determinedly did not think about the face that his brother was…perhaps…at times…less than friendly with the law.
Jon snickered and looked around casually, waiting, until there was nobody else was on their part of the walkway before grabbing a suddenly much redder Martin by the wrist and striding down an alleyway. Martin followed behind, helplessly. He was much more used to following someone much taller (than Jon, at least. Martin’s growth spurt treated him very well) into trouble. Fortunately, that meant he was able to keep up with the abrupt turn and follow along, even though he didn’t know where he was being taken. Unfortunately, he had to bend down while run-walking behind his (still, unfairly gorgeous) boss, which meant that he was terrified of tripping and falling, potentially flattening his (much scrawnier) boss. There’s…no way that would look good on his resume.
“Okay, so, the store has been abandoned for– what, a year, now? So there may be some– some bugs or something, but we should be fine otherwise.” Jon reached into the pocket of his jeans (he was wearing jeans!) and pulled out a set of lockpicks. He crouched in front of the old door, expertly putting the tools in the old keyhole and moving them around.
Martin blushed and tried to focus on Jon’s hands…which didn’t really do much to help his blush, especially since Jon quite obviously knew what he was doing, as evidenced by the snick of the lock less than a minute later. Jon sniffed and pushed himself back up with his hands on his knees and grinned, wide and happy. He pushed into the old building and walked right inside.
Martin spluttered, “Ah– wh–, Jon. Y-you can’t just– Christ.” He stepped up to the doorway and looked around, biting his lip.
Martin swayed forward, splaying his hands out to grab the doorframe. He leaned in slightly, head creeping past the opening cautiously. He looked to the left and right, not seeing much past the dusty kitchen counters to one side, and the wall of darkness to the other.
He swallowed, nervously, “Ah…J-Jon? Are you, uh…” He trailed off, grimacing.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stepping forward after a moment more of hesitation.
When nothing happened, ‘Like what, Baby Blackwood, Zeus striking you down?’, he sighed and opened his eyes.
He immediately screamed in terror and cowered back behind his hands at the sight of Jon directly in front of him, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised in amusement.
“Wow. You are…terrified. Huh.” Jon said calmly, the slightest hint of a mischievous smile on his lips.
Martin sucked in a breath, “Jon what the fuck is wrong with you.” He hissed, looming over the unrepentant man.
Jon snickered again and shook his head, “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell my employees that kind of information. Also, watch your language while you’re working.”
Martin groaned and hung his head, “I swear to Christ if I get arrested because of you, I’m calling my brother.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s supposed to scare me, or something. Now. I think I found the room mentioned in the statement. Get your notebook.”
Martin, grumbling under his breath, made to follow, pulling out his notebook from his bag as he followed the sounds of Jon’s voice.