Chapter Text
Georgie was right, talking to Martin had been a good idea. She had probably gotten sick of Jon talking about him all the time while he was staying with her. He had been thinking about Martin even more than he had been talking about him. Had been thinking about him more than he ever would have expected.
Still, being in Martin's presence again, being so close he could reach out and touch him, was almost more than he could bear. Just being near him made him feel hot and cold all over in a way he didn't understand. Jon's words came out stilted and awkward, and he was hyperaware of his body in space. Like he didn't know how to stand or how to hold his limbs, nothing felt relaxed or natural.
It was nice to hear Martin's voice again, though, his laugh between the uncomfortable pauses. To see Martin's nervous smile, the way he shifted his weight and fidgeted with his hands. He was glad to see that Martin seemed to be holding up well, despite everything that had been going on. It was a shame that Jon would be leaving again so soon, when he had just gotten back.
It's not too late, y'know, Martin had said to him. Unless the world ends.
Jon had been thinking about those words since he heard them the day before. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug and thought about them again. There had been a steaming cup of tea on his desk when he arrived at work, and he knew Martin had been the one to leave it there for him. Martin, always finding those little ways to take care of him.
He sipped the tea, just a hint of milk and sugar. Somehow Martin seemed to be the only one who could make tea exactly the way he liked it. Another thing that Georgie had gotten tired of hearing about.
Martin had a point, he was slowly coming to realize. How much time was he going to spend trying to solve mysteries, trying to save the world? Will he wake up one day and realize that during all that time, he hadn't really lived? There was more to life than working endless hours at these wretched Archives, was he really going to let it pass him by? What was the point in saving a world, if not for the people in it that made life worth living?
Jon came to a decision. He liked being around Martin, liked the way he felt when he was around Martin. So he would spend more time with Martin. With his flight to China scheduled for the following week, that didn't leave him many opportunities. No time like the present then.
He waited until lunchtime, and then casually found Martin to ask if he would like to go get sandwiches at the cafe. They used to go together occasionally before his extended absence, and he had missed it. This, however, was the first time Jon had been the one to ask. Martin stared at him in surprise.
"Are you asking me to go get lunch?" Martin asked incredulously. "Usually I'm the one dragging you there to force you to eat."
"What, is that not allowed?" Jon huffed, starting to second-guess his decision.
"Don't be silly, of course it's allowed. It's just unexpected, is all."
"Well, I have the company credit card, so the Institute can buy us both lunch."
"Let me get my coat."
Oh. So this was happening. This was happening now. Jon went to fetch his own coat from his office, wondering why the thought of lunch with Martin was making him feel jittery. It's just a sandwich, he told himself. They've done this plenty of times in the past.
They walked in silence in the chill air, retracing familiar steps. Barely glancing at each other while they stood in line, or when they ordered their usual favourites. But Jon could feel how close Martin was to him the entire time, even closer than when they talked the day before. A comfortable awareness, an almost warmth by his side.
Martin chatted with the cashier as Jon paid for their meals, asking about her kids. Jon nodded to her politely, acutely embarrassed by the fact that he had probably seen her as many times as Martin had, but had no idea who she was. He didn't even know her name, much less anything about her family. The way Martin moved through the world was so different from the way he did.
"So what's up with the lunch invite? This isn't normally like you. Everything okay?" Martin asked as he unwrapped his sandwich. He took a big bite and began to chew enthusiastically.
"Oh! Uh, yes, everything's fine." Jon sat across from him, his fingers fussing with his plate. "It's just that, well, I've been away from you for so long…uh, from everyone, I mean." He looked down and remembered he was supposed to be eating, and lifted up his sandwich for a bite. He was barely aware of the flavors across his tongue, ham and cheddar with mustard.
"Well, I wish I could say that everyone here missed you, but I guess it's just-" Martin stopped himself as he realized what he was saying.
Martin had missed him. Martin had been the only one that had missed him. Which of course they both already knew, it just usually wasn't something they acknowledged. Not out loud.
He had missed Martin too. And despite the way he had been talking about him to Georgie incessantly, he hadn't realized how much he missed him until Martin was sitting across from him, watching him with concerned eyes while he chewed.
"It's not like I can blame them," Jon admitted. "What with the spying, and being wanted for murder and all that."
"For the record, I knew you didn't do it. I kept telling everyone that you wouldn't do anything like that. They didn't listen, of course."
"Oh. Um, thanks." This was news to Jon. It was good to know that at least one person hadn't thought he was a murderer. Even if it meant everyone else had.
"How are you, though, really?" Martin asked. "I mean, being on the run from the police, being kidnapped…none of that sounds particularly fun."
Jon looked away, fingers tapping a staccato pattern on the surface of the table. He didn't really like thinking about any of it. "It uh… No, it wasn't great, honestly."
Martin's hand cautiously slid forward to cover Jon's. Jon jumped in his seat and snatched his hand away like it was on fire.
"S-sorry! I'm so sorry!" Martin pulled his hand back, a pained expression on his face.
"No, sorry, it's okay Martin, it's not your fault," Jon replied, although his heart was racing. "It just startled me, is all. I wasn't expecting it, and after all the…you know…the mannequins, and the…the lotion…"
He shuddered in revulsion, remembering the feeling of the stiff inhuman fingers on his skin, smoothing the cold moisturizer. A month of being trapped and helpless and terrified while those horrid plastic faces jeered at him.
"I'm sorry. I should have known." Martin said quietly, wringing his hands.
"Martin, don't. You couldn't have known, alright? It's not like I've really, you know, talked to anyone about all this." Jon's voice was soothing, and he reached his hand back across the table in invitation.
Martin smiled slightly as he reached forward. His hand was warm, with a soft elasticity that was a stark contrast to being touched by things that wore the bodies of dolls or skin that was not their own. He hadn't received any physical contact since he'd been kidnapped, and he had just about forgotten that it could be pleasant in the right circumstances.
Martin gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "Well, you know I'm always here if you need me."
"I know. Thank you."
With a start Martin looked down at Jon's hand, and then back at him. "Jon?" he asked in alarm. "What happened to your hand?"
With a sudden flush of embarrassment Jon retracted his hand again. "Oh! I-uh…shook hands with someone made of…hot wax? It kind of, um, melted it a bit."
"Melted your hand? Jon, why would you do that?"
"Well, uh, she had information I needed. A lot happened while I was…away. Even when I thought I wasn't working for the Institute anymore, I was still following leads, trying to find information. Couldn't let it go, I suppose."
"Wow. That sounds like…a lot."
"Yes, it…Yes, it was. Though honestly, one of the most annoying parts was losing my succulent collection," Jon continued as he returned to his sandwich. "I mean everything from my old flat is gone, I don't know what happened to it all. I'd been taking care of them for years, so I hope somebody kept them at least. Hate to think that they've all been thrown away."
"What, like the plants?" Martin sat back and grinned, openly amused.
"Yes? What's wrong with that?"
Martin laughed lightly. "Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just…not something that I would have expected from you. It's kinda cute, actually."
"It's not cute," Jon sniffed in disdain. "They're actually really fascinating plants, and low maintenance."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, you see, they need very little water, in fact, the easiest way to kill them is to over-water them. You can drown them, that's basically what happens when you over-water plants, you know, you cut off their oxygen supply. And some of them have leaves organized in a Fibonacci pattern, and they can get these lovely little flowers…"
Jon trailed off, realizing he was rambling. He was certain Martin would have stopped listening by now, looking out the window or at his phone. But Martin was watching him curiously, head tilted with a wide grin on his face.
"Don't laugh at me, they're actually quite charming." He self-consciously picked up his sandwich again. Right, he was supposed to be eating. That's the whole point of going to lunch.
"No, I'm not laughing at you! It's just…nice. To see you like this."
"Like what?
"I dunno…excited about something? Talking about…something that makes you happy, rather than, you know…all this? Work? The horrors?" He gestured vaguely.
Jon laughed softly. "Yes, I suppose it's nice to be talking about something other than trying to figure out how to stop an apocalypse."
They went back to eating, the quiet between them now peaceful, one that didn't need to be filled up with words. Being in each other's presence was enough.
"Thanks for lunch," Martin said in the lift on the way back down. "That was nice."
"Oh! Yes, it was." Jon looked at his hands. "Although I suppose we should be thanking Elias, since he's the one that paid for it. But with all he's put us through, it's the least he could do, in my opinion."
"In that case, he should pay for our dinners too, with all the late nights we've been working."
"Alright."
"Wait. Really?"
"Next time we're both working late. Let's get dinner. On Elias's tab. What's he going to do, fire us?"
"What about Friday night? Since you're flying out over the weekend. Unless you already have plans?"
Jon's laugh was tinged with bitterness. "I can't even remember the last time I had plans. Or anything remotely resembling a social life." None of them got to have normal lives anymore. Because of him.
"Yeah," Martin agreed ruefully. Then he brightened, giving Jon a lopsided smile. "So it's a date then?"
"Oh! I-uh. I suppose it is."