Work Text:
On some level I think I always understood
That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever
Martin dropped a mug of tea on the way back to his desk. It stained the floor in the same place as every other time he had forgotten to keep a tight enough grip on his own mug, after setting Jon's tea down carefully on his desk, and making sure his superior didn't work too late. Clearing up the broken ceramic and rapidly cooling liquid, Martin asked if he could make Jon a cup of tea while he was there.
And I tried to do the best that I could,
But try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to hold you
Returning from artefact storage, Jon found yet another unsolicited cup of tea sat waiting for him. He suspected Martin, as it had his name written all over it, down to the way the handle was angled towards the hand he used to pick it up. The tea was delicious, if slightly too sweet, as it always was when Martin made it, but Jon didn't have the heart to tell him that he preferred honey to sugar, especially because Martin always seemed so excited to be allowed to bring him tea, even if Jon always made him leave immediately after, claiming he had work to do.
It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest,
With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful
Martin always liked the idea of writing letters, as a child, and now he found comfort in writing his thoughts down, directing it towards someone he trusts, so that he didn't end up rambling on. It had been a while since he actually sent a letter though, as recently the letters had been made out to one particular individual, and the contents would be embarrassing, at the very least, if discovered. Martin didn't regret it, writing letters to Jon to work out his own emotions, but he does know it crosses the invisible boundary between them, and to betray his trust would break Martin's heart.
There is love that doesn't have a place to rest,
But it would bury you if it settled on your shoulders
He thought Jon didn't know about the letters, but in reality the papers kept in Martin's locked desk drawer were sometimes all that kept him going. If he ever found out that Jon had been through them on more than one occasion... He'd probably be embarrassed, maybe a little angry, but overall it wouldn't be the end of their friendship. It might be the end of Martin's employment at the institute, although never by Jon's hand, as he knew Martin could be a little impulsive at times, and might have left if he got the wrong impression.
On some level I think I always understood, that a ship could never really love an anchor
'I lied to you, Jon.'
'What?'
'I'm sorry for interrupting your work, but I lied to you, about where I've been going when I tell you I'm following a lead for a statement. It's been months, I just didn't have the courage to tell you, I couldn't stand that I was breaking your trust but I just couldn't do it anymore, I'm sorry.'
'Martin.'
'Yes?'
'Where have you been going?'
'I've been going home, to... Rest, I suppose. Look I'm so sorry Jon, I really am'
So I did the only thing that I could, and severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbour
'Martin.' Jon was standing now, his clenched fists resting on the desktop.
'Yes?'
'Catch up on the work you've missed.' He wasn't angry. He knew he wasn't, because he knew that Martin had been going home to write letters, as he always came back with a stack of envelopes, whenever he went out for a long time.
'Oh. You're not going to fire me?'
'No. Just don't go galavanting off again when you're meant to be working. I won't tell the others.' Even through gritted teeth, Jon couldn't stop himself from protecting Martin. He didn't even know why, he had every reason to fire Martin, it might even stop Jon from thinking about him so much.
'Oh. Uhh... Thank you?' Turning to leave, Martin looked back, like always, and spoke;
'Would you like a cup of tea?'
'No. Actually I was meaning to talk to you about that. Could you please stop asking me if I want tea every time you pass my office? You drink an awful lot of the stuff, and I don't appreciate being interrupted so often.'
'Oh, okay.' Martin shuffled towards the door again, reluctant to leave.
'Oh, and Martin?'
'Yes?' His voice was hopeful now, less anxious, and Jon barely managed to get the words out that would shatter their friendship further.
'Could you knock, next time you actually need to speak to me about something important?'
He couldn't bring himself to watch the tears fall from Martin's eyes as he silently left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
There are times when I still wonder about you, you are someone I have loved, but never known
Martin dropped a mug on the way back to his desk. It was only his second tea of the day, despite it being late afternoon, and after clearing up the spilled liquid and shards of ceramic, he made himself another mug of tea, and walked back to his desk, making a point of not looking at Jon's door until he was settled in at his desk again. Then he allowed himself a very brief glance, and through the thin window he saw Jon with his head in his hands, elbows resting on the desk, apparently talking to himself while his eyes bore holes in the papers before him.
And you'll never see the reasons I had, for keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you
'He would understand if I told him, he would understand if I told him' No matter how many times he repeated it, Jon knew he would never really believe it. Because how could he? How could Martin ever understand why he had to let him go? How even at his most relaxed and vulnerable, Jon wouldn't be able to explain why he couldn't let anyone get close to him, because he knew that the moment he tried to explain, Martin would tell him it's okay, and that he didn't have to say, and that it was enough to just exist together. Because of course he would. Of course Martin, kind, funny, devious Martin, would be the only voice of reason since Jon shut himself away.
I am selfish
Martin didn't know when he decided to do it. To march into Jon's office, to tell him that he was done pretending, that he couldn't take it anymore. But he must have decided to do it at some point, because he made a second cup of tea.
I am broken, I am cruel
'Look Jon, I can't do this anymore. I cannot continue to pretend that everything's okay between us when I can see it's not, I- are you crying?'
'I'm... fine, Martin.'
Setting both mugs gently on the dark wood, Martin made his way over to Jon's side of the desk, and his confusion at the collection of damp tissues must have been obvious, because he could see on Jon's face what he was about to do.
'Get out. I'm fine, Martin, I told you not to disturb me for no good reason, you didn't even knock, you have no reason to be in here- get out.'
I am all the things they might have said to you
'No.'
'What do you mean, 'no'?'
'I am not going to leave you here alone, not again. I don't want to watch you destroy yourself from my desk just because you told me to. Fire me if you want, I don't care, just let me stay.'
Jon was standing again, the first time Martin had seen him away from his desk in days. He was silent for a moment that seemed to last forever, then softly whispered;
'Thank you.'
'For what? I deliberately ignored your instructions, again. Why would you thank me?'
Do you ever think of me and my two hands
'Can I... Uh, can I hug you, Martin?'
Martin nodded, still confused, and Jon pulled him into a bone-crushing hug that caught him so off-guard that he couldn't stop himself from melting into it, comforted by Jon's arms around him in a way he hadn't felt in years.
'Thank you for rescuing me.'
And wonder why they never soothed your fevers
A month earlier, Martin was off sick, and Jon had been so worried by his voice on the phone, that he made sure to visit Martin every day after work, bringing food, and ensuring that he was alright, and recovering properly before his return to the archive only a week later.
And wonder why they never tied your shoes
On his first day back in the office, Jon picked Martin up from his flat, running late and finding him sat by the door, his still-weak hands struggling to put his shoes on. Jon had admonished him for not being ready on time when he was the one who insisted that he was fully recovered, and hurriedly tied his shoelaces for him before rushing off to the archive.
And wonder why they never held you gently
At the Christmas party last year, Jon had volunteered to drop Martin off on the way home, as there was no way he could have made the trip on his own, with the quantity of alcohol he had consumed. As Jon helped Martin to stumble through the door to his flat, he heard words that made his heart stop briefly;
'I love you Jon, you're so nice'
Slurred though his speech was, Martin couldn't have been clearer, and despite his exhaustion from carrying his inebriated friend up the stairs, Jon managed to pull him upright, and they stood there in each others arms for a very long time.
And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you
'I'm sorry, Martin.'
'Why?'
'Because I thought I was better off alone. I thought that if I let you get close to me I'd only end up hurting you. I thought I could survive alone. But I was wrong. I only hurt us both more by pushing you away, and it nearly broke me. I'm sorry'
'It's okay, Jon. We're still here, aren't we? We're still us, after all that's happened. So you have nothing to be sorry for.'
'Thank you, Martin.'
'What for?'
'For saving me.'