agoodyarn | for corkscrewed: back from the trip

for corkscrewed: back from the trip

[ continued from the events detailed here ]

[ They're back. And of course, it's back to the Institute. With the jetlag and the time changes, it's kind of a blur when they get there.

Regardless, Jon had gone right up to Elias's office and there'd been a Discussion that had happened there, one which had been conducted very quietly and very much with the door closed. Jon had come back, looking satisfied but anyone actually watching would note that his hand remained clenched tight into a fist along his side for a few hours afterwards at certain intervals.

Jon 'shares' the news with everyone as to what that might have been about by walking in from said meeting, making his way over to Martin's desk, leaning over, pressing a kiss into his hair, reminding him to be careful with his arm, and slipping into his office. Which is, possibly the worst way to do such a thing but when has Jon ever worried about doing things the worst possible way don't answer that.

This led to some shouting outside of the office but Jon has work to do and Martin knows where he is if he needs anything. He's handled the worst of it; as he'd told him before, Martin would be the one responsible for handling the, er, the rest.]

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Sure.

[ martin pushes himself to his feet with a yawn, scrubbing at his face. ]

You want some help?

[ He sucks back an immediate, somewhat snappish response that was the result of his discussion with Tim as opposed to anything Martin had done... and shakes his head.]

Just... give me a minute. I'll be out.

[ And back into his office for roughly three minutes before he emerges, dressed for the cold with his laptop bag over one shoulder. ]

Come on. It's... not close. There's a reason I use the cot most nights.

[ martin gives him an uncertain look, like he's not sure how to gauge jon's mood. he does stand and prepare himself to leave, too, sinking a little into his own coat. ]

Crossed the Atlantic for you, Jon. Don't think I'll mind a trip across the city.

[ his voice is gentle while he tries to suss out his mood. ]

[ He hates the uncertainty, and it has him reaching over to take Martin's hand again, firmly but always carefully. He breathes out a huff.]

It's not- it's nothing you've done, Martin. I just- talking to Tim is rather frustrating. I'll settle out.

[ Talking to Tim hurts.]

[ martin winces slightly at that, wrapping his fingers tightly around jon's as he drifts more closely to him. ]

Yeah. I... can imagine that talking to him is... rough. I'm sorry, Jon. Did you make any headway?

[ He waits until he's pulling out his keys with his other hand, locking up the Archive. Tim has the keys so he can still use the tunnels as he likes, but he's at least going to put a hurdle in front of anything or anyone else.]

He knows where the ritual is going to take place. He's been staking it out. By himself.

[ The irony is thick.]

He doesn't think they're ready quite yet. They're keeping things slow to avoid notice.

[ martin's eyes go wide before narrowing, his hand flexing hard on jon's. he glances sharply at him, expression startled. ]

That's- are you serious? That's so dangerous.

[ resolves the issue about who's staking out with who. ]

No, Martin, I'm kidding, clearly.

[ But he shuts down immediately, closes his eyes, squeezes them tight, presses his lips hard against one another. After a few breathes, he manages to settle again.]

Sorry.

[ It's small, but he does mean it.]

It's just an expression. [ his tone is defensive, wounded, but he tries hard to push past that following the apology.

jon is just - very stressed. with good reason. they all are.

his voice gets a little quieter. ]

Guess you already know how dangerous it is. Sorry.

[ He shakes off Martin's apology; he doesn't deserve it. He's being a bastard about things, taking them out on Martin when Martin's been nothing but- honestly, nothing but help. As much as his usual inclination has been to dismiss the very idea of such a thing, some of the unwinding he'd done on the trip had actually shaken loose a few things for him, made today's work easier. He hadn't felt like he was hitting moments where he couldn't figure things out so much as moments where there just wasn't the information he needed.

Which he now had.

A long with a lot of C4 and-]

He's so angry, he can't even see around it. Angry and scared and practically bleeding in my office with it-

[ There's a quick look at Martin, as he realizes something, as he wonders something, but he pushes it down, pushes it away. He can't dwell on that, on the fact that that's probably what he'd looked like not too long ago, how he'd acted. They'd probably thought the same things.

He can't dwell on his mistakes. He can't. He'll just end up making new ones.

Unfortunate, however, that the only prescription that had worked for him was the murder of the figure who'd taken up so much real estate in his life since the age of eight and being framed for his murder. He can't really recommend it and they certainly don't have the time.]

I'm worried. I'm worried he's going to do something-

[ He swallows.]

Something he won't come back from.

[ martin thinks about that, too, that time that tim had come to him in concern about jon's safety - worry that he was going to do something stupid after sending them all home.

and... jon is right. tim does remind him of someone else he'd known, desperate for a resolution and willing to do anything he could to get it. ]

I'll try to keep a better eye on him. Maybe try to spend some time with him, if I can convince him to let me. [ unlikely; he'd seemed betrayed more than anything else when martin had explained his relationship with jon. ]

We - it'll be fine. We can't lose anyone else.

I don't know how helpful that might be. He's... concerned that you and the others, that you might be something like, well, [ there's no sensitive way to put this] something like with Sasha.

[ His eyes stay straight as he walks out of the building and towards the tube station, thankful that the stairs aren't far from the Institute. The ride is a little long, but as long as his line is running (which was why he'd insisted on leaving around midnight, so they wouldn't miss the last one before the schedule spaced out) it's a relatively straight shot.]

The only one he trusts is me, sadly enough. Because at least... [ his tone falters] at least he knows what kind of monster I am.

Oh. Well... yeah. That would make things a little more difficult, I guess. Guess you can't just... vouch for us.

[ he trails off, lapsing into silence as they approach the station. at least it's a respite from the cold. ]

Look- are you sure you want me over tonight? I get it if it's been a long day.

[ Jon's hand doesn't squeeze Martin's, doesn't hold any tighter, but his muscles tense there. Firmer.

It takes him a minute, and getting to the steps themselves, but soon enough he looks over at Martin. ]

I should be asking you that.

[ He wants the company, needs it really so he doesn't go down a spiral of self-hatred and self-doubt and ripping into himself until his nightmares claim him for the evening. Martin... Martin shouldn't have to deal with that. ]

[ martin's hand shifts nervously, before he gives jon's fingers a squeeze. ]

'Course. I told you I wanted to see your flat, right?

[ he has no toiletries, no clothes to change into, but, well- he'll worry about those problems later. ]

[ It's a good thing they left their bags in the office, then, isn't it? They'll just have to make sure that they get in earlier than the others.]

You're almost certainly going to be disappointed. It's really nothing impressive.

[ He starts his way down the stairs, forcing himself to relax, forcing himself to focus on that instead of Tim. He can't do anything about Tim right this moment, after all.]

More like living in a bookshop than anything else.

Don't really care if it's impressive- just that it's yours.

[ martin hesitates, then amends: ] That was a bit sappy, wasn't it. You know what I mean.

[ he mostly means exactly what he said, and he follows him down the stairs, heading to the platform. ]

No, I- I do actually understand.

[ It doesn't seem sappy to him, mostly because for him, it's very clearly an invitation to a kind of intimacy, letting Martin into his space. It's serious, intense in some ways. He's trusting Martin to see where he sleeps, as silly as that sounds put into words, and where all his things are.

Down the stairs and through the turnstiles and over to wait for the train. Not that they wait long. It seems Jon's uncanny timing is holding for the moment, not that he's going to say anything on that point.]

We're on the seventh stop from here.

[ one nice thing about such a late train is that it's mostly empty. martin will find a place for them to sit, never quite releasing jon's hand - partially because it'll take him a moment to warm up, and partially because he doesn't exactly feel ready to break that physical connection between the two of them yet.

a drunk girl is standing at the other end of the car, chatting animatedly on her phone and swaying as she grips the pole to keep her balance.

very softly, martin will tell him: ]

You can lean on me. If you're tired.

[ There's a glance at the girl there, but beyond that he'll just give Martin's hand a soft squeeze and lean back against the seat.]

I'll be fine, Martin, thank you.

[ Very very mild for him, even if it is a no. Honestly, he's... he's still unwinding. He needs just a little space for that, and all the space he needs is a few inches between him and Martin.

Something which he knows will sound much much worse outside of his head so he just lets it sit. ]

[ martin had figured as much; he'd been surprised enough by the handholding, but, well. it felt impolite to not offer, at least. ]

Sure.

[ he leans his head back and shuts his own eyes; he won't be able to fall asleep, but this late at night, it's nice to just sort of bask in the hum and thump of the train as it takes off. they are incapable of doing anything but waiting, at least for a little while, and sometimes it's nice to have that decision of what to do made for him. ]

[ When they get to the stop, Jon gives his hand a squeeze and tugs him up from the seat just before the train would stop; he's noticed that the doors were a little quick and he'd rather not have to walk from the farther station. Not at this hour.

He'll lead Martin up and out, into his neighborhood which isn't exceptionally well-to-do but it's not a bad neighborhood. It's nice, a little artsy, full of bookshops and little hole-in-the-walls and small theatres. Jon's place isn't very far from the station, just a block or so, and soon enough he's trotting down a set of steps to a basement apartment door.

It's only while he's pulling out his keys that he lets go of Martin's hand.]

[ martin glances around as they walk. it's a little more difficult to identify places in the dark, but he thinks he may have passed through this area once before chasing down information about a statement.

he slips his hand into his pocket, keeping close behind him. ]

Don't think I realized how tired I was until we stood up.

That's the trouble with the ride. You start drifting.

[ Conversational nonsense, the kind of thing he doesn't usually indulge in, but for right now, it's helpful. It keeps his mind focused while he gets the key and opens the door. The lights go on immediately... and Martin will get the first look at Jon's apartment.

Which is... decently sized, honestly. With a lot of old wood furniture that's been around for a while, scuffed around the corners but still clearly expensive once upon a time. The living room is very basic, with no posters or art on the plain white walls, a variety of mismatched rugs laid out to cover the wooden floor, and a single couch in front of a rather basic entertainment system that never-the-less might shock Martin for containing gaming system, of all things, for all that it's clearly at least one generation back.

He hadn't lied, though, since most of the space and most of the room seems to be filled and surrounded by bookshelves, filled with books of all manner of ages and types. The only place in view that doesn't have bookshelves is off to the left where the kitchen is, and there's at least a hutch of books over there that probably have to do with cooking. There's a hallway leading back to the rest of it, that's still dark at the moment, but Jon just starts pushing off his shoes and tugging off his coat as he makes his way in to leave them in a little spot clearly made for them off to the right of the front door.]

Can I- would you like coffee or tea or something? Water?

[ What is hosting? He can barely think around wondering what Martin will think of his home, or if Martin will think anything, or how weird it feels to have another person here. It's... been a while. A long while.]

Tea might be nice?

[ martin is toes off his shoes as the door shuts behind them, and he can't help it; he's looking around at the sitting area, taking in the bookshelves and the furniture and lingering on the rugs, like he's trying to absorb every bit of what it all might say about the man who owns it.

it's nice. it's nice, and it- well, rather reminds him of jon, which is more of a comfort than he wants to say. ]

You've got a really lovely place.

[ and he means it, too, his voice soft and sincere. ]

for corkscrewed: back from the trip

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