for epistemological

[corkscrewed]

[ further continued from this thread. ]

[ things are, for a few more days, pretty good. they make progress. they make tentative plans. martin spends a lot of time with jon, wrapped around him when they sleep, and they never manage to quite finish the movie.

so, yes: things are pretty great, until suddenly they aren't anymore.

it's a strain to hold out hope with both tim and daisy gone, with jon in the hospital, but he does because he has no choice. the circumstances are less than ideal when he finally meets georgie, but she seems to understand the situation by the look on martin's face when she comes into the hospital room with her coffee. she usually brings two coffees from that point on.

so he clings to hope, because he has to, and when that finally starts to fray? peter is there. peter, who promises him that he can help. that with jon gone - and jon is gone, he says with gentle urgency - that others are going to need to step up. that martin will, because that's the only way to keep everyone safe. sure, it won't be easy at first, but it will get easier, and he'll barely notice the difference. that concessions need to be made.

so martin agrees to those concessions, and georgie starts spending more time at the hospital, to pick up the slack that martin leaves.

and then jon wakes up. don't, peter tells him. if you want this to work, you can't. it'll be easier if you don't think about it.

it works for a while, too. not that it's gotten easier at all like peter promised (and he has, quietly, sent georgie a single message to ask if he's okay, because that's all he needs to make it), but because martin is stubborn. because he's this far in, and if he can be the one to keep everyone safe, then he will.

it's working well enough until the evening jon's office door opens, and martin swears under his breath. the expression jon will catch on him is surprise, panic, before it's carefully arranged into something more neutral. busted. ]

Comments

[corkscrewed]

I'm in my flat, jon.

[ peter is going to fucking murder him, but- they both deserved a goodbye, didn't they. ]

[epistemological]

I'll be there soon.

[corkscrewed]

[ martin will put on a shirt and a pot of coffee, though he doesn't quite put away the bottle of liquor he'd been nursing with a wince. it wasn't really his thing, drinking to take the edge off, but some nights--

he unlocks the door and waits. ]

[epistemological]

[ He shouldn't go out.

If he had half a brain, he would realize this is a bad idea. It's not safe to travel after dark especially, but then again, he reminds himself, it's not really safe to travel any other time either. The Dark is only one of the things trying to kill them all at this point.

Instead, he does as he's found himself doing lately: he pushes into that sense of otherness, of the part that isn't Jon-as-he-was, flings himself whole heartedly into the feeling of Knowing and lets it guide his steps.

He feels it, like electricity across his skin, like a tingle at the back of his brain. His feet only take him where he needs to go, and he sees no one else on the way that spikes on his senses. Plenty of people, even at this hour (it IS London, after all) but no one...

No one that makes his teeth ache.

Soon enough, though, he's at the door and he's knocking, tentative at first before making it firm.]

[corkscrewed]

[ the door is unlocked but that doesn't matter. jon deserves to have it opened for him. so he goes, and pulls it open, standing back awkwardly to let him in.

he isn't quite looking at him. ]

You made it.

[epistemological]

[ He just watches, for a moment. Just looks at Martin, takes in that, oh, he'd been drinking a little, hadn't he? That's... new. The most he's ever seen Martin is a little buzzed and that was-

That was a good memory, wasn't it?]

May I-

That is.

[ He clears his throat.]

I'd like to come in.

[corkscrewed]

[ martin nods and steps back, gesturing for him to step inside. martin didn't have a whole lot of photos up before, but jon may notice that they're all gone, now. not replaced; just missing from the walls. ]

Yeah. You want a drink?

[epistemological]

[ He steps in and away from the door to leave Martin close it up.]

Not particularly. But thank you.

[ Stiff, a little formal. Martin's not interested in what he has to offer, to what he can give. All that's left of him to give. He won't presume closeness the other man clearly doesn't want.

So.

Manners.

He's not opposed to drinking, certainly not even to drinking in excess. But that's more- he used to do that with Tim and now, the very idea-

No. This is better.]

[corkscrewed]

Yeah. 'Course.

[ he wants to check on him, to reach out and touch him, and his fingers flex uncomfortably on the wood of the door as he shuts it behind jon. he still can't look at him, can't let himself get too close. ]

I put some water on. For coffee or tea, too.

[epistemological]

Tea would be fine.

[ He prefers it, and certainly at this hour. And while Martin might look away, Jon certainly doesn't.]

...is it that-

[ Dammit dammit dammit.]

You don't seem to want to look at me. I can go, if you've reconsidered.

[corkscrewed]

No-

[ it comes out a little more sharply than he means to, and he does glance at jon this time. ]

You've come all this way. At- at least have some tea.

[ and then he's going to turn sharply to head into the kitchen to start it to steeping. ]

[epistemological]

[ He heard that 'no'. and he winces, just a little, out of Martin's view as he walks behind him into the kitchen.]

It's not actually that far, you remember.

[corkscrewed]

Regardless. It's late.

[ pours the water into cups with bags, taking his time just because he is more drunk than he wants to necessarily admit out loud, and also because it allows him to stall for a moment. ]

Just... sit down.

[epistemological]

Sir, yes sir.

[ A touch mocking, though there's no edge to it, nothing mean. He sits all the same, hands folded, and he watches Martin go about the business of preparing the tea.]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin's eyebrows go up and he snorts under his breath despite himself. he slides him the cup. ]

Do you need some medicine? How bad are you hurting?

[epistemological]

There's no real 'medicine' for being stabbed. Just recuperation. Things I unfortunately know from experience.

[ He tilts his head to one side.]

It's fine as long as I'm careful.

[ He'd sat slowly.]

[corkscrewed]

Yeah, I... guess.

[ and then martin will, slowly as well, sit across from him. cautiously, quietly, he'll offer: ]

It's good to see you. It was- scary, for a while. How long you were out.

[epistemological]

I'm sure the fact that everything but my brain was non-functional wasn't exactly... encouraging.

[ How long? How long before that BASTARD sunk his claws in?]

[corkscrewed]

Not... really, no. I thought we'd lost you. Sorry I didn't... I didn't have enough faith.

[ he's going for the bottle instead of the tea, just for one last wincing pull from it. ]

[epistemological]

[ That gets a snort out of him, a very firm and dismissive one. He opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it before peering over at Martin.]

...this isn't some sort of guilt thing, is it?

[corkscrewed]

It's not guilt. And careful with the questions.

[ it comes out more snappishly than he means it to, but something in his expression is drawn. ]

I wanted to see you, too.

[epistemological]

[ He wishes he wasn't quite so pleased to have gotten a snap out of Martin. He's been acting like such a non-entity, worse than he ever had back when they'd first gotten to know one another. It had been... worrying.

This, not so much, though he holds up a hand.]

All right, fair enough.

[ His shoulders sink again, relaxing.]

You know where I am, Martin. Why the-

[ He stops himself.]

All right. I'm... glad. [ A short pause.] I've... I've missed you.

[corkscrewed]

Thank you.

[ martin takes a long breath, watching the table more than jon, before his eyes flick up to him again. ]

I miss you. Work- just has to come first. You of all people should... understand that.

[epistemological]

[ His hand closes, curling tight in on itself on the surface of the table. Otherwise, though, it doesn't move.]

It's very hard to understand anything at the moment, to be honest. But I suppose that's... nothing new.

[ He looks across at Martin.]

Are we- that is-

[ He presses his lips tight and keeps it a statement by force of will.]

... I need to know if we're in the sort of arrangement where we kiss one another or not. I think that's reasonable.

[corkscrewed]

[ the question seems to startle something in him and martin looks briefly more pained than anything else. he turns to the tea instead of his alcohol again. ]

Look, we can - if that's - if that's something you want to do, that's fine? That's- fine. It just - after tonight, we can't spend time together. So if that will make things- harder for you...