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

[epistemological]

[ And just as fiercely, Jon is thinking about how he's going to get the coffin, get Daisy out, and insist that Martin come along. And if he's curling up a little tightly, a little desperately before he passes out, well... maybe he's getting more of Martin's determination than he'd like.]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin will sleep. not much, but enough, and when he awakes with jon's body curled like that against his own- well, he's not going to leave immediately, certainly. he should, but he won't, because instead he's going to lean in and move to wake him with a kiss. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon wakes up to being kissed.

He'd like to always wake up to being kissed. It's a life goal.

It's probably in the back of the list, given his priorities, but it's still very much on there. He opens his eyes and peers over at Martin.]

Sleep all right?

[corkscrewed]

Yeah. What about you?

[ martin shifts then, moving to sort of climb over jon. he's careful not to put to much pressure onto him, but he's still sort of just- on top of him, chest to chest, before leaning down and pressing another kiss to his mouth. ]

[epistemological]

[ He drinks in the kiss and kisses in return, slow and steady and content.]

Dreams are what they are. The rest was a noticeable improvement.

[corkscrewed]

Yeah. That's- good, at least.

[ one last kiss, his hand gripping jon's hair. it's a little harder than the last one, hungry in its own way, before he breaks it reluctantly. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon will chase him a little on that second one, nudging in for at least another kiss.]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin makes a half-plaintive little noise, accepting that kiss and chasing down one more. it's early, and he's comfortable, and god he doesn't want to move. so he doesn't, just yet. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon's hand gets into Martin's hair a little, just a little. He'll get the one he's chasing, and another on top of it.]

[corkscrewed]

[ he tries to be good. he tries to respect jon's boundaries, and to honor the ones he's set up for himself, too, but this just feels nice - so he kisses him harder than he should, presses his body down against jon's because the pressure and the contact are nice. his face is flushed when he lets himself come up for air. ]

Okay. I- okay. Sorry.

[epistemological]

[ Jon's body... it doesn't respond. Not the way Martin's does. He shifts and moves, presses back against Martin, accepts. His hand in Martin's hair is gentle.]

It's all right.

Would you like-

[ He leans up to kiss him again.]

I could hold you. That could be... very nice.

[corkscrewed]

Yeah.

[ why are we torturing ourselves? he swallows a lump of sadness, welling hard in his throat. ]

Just for a minute. I'd like that.

[epistemological]

Like I did in the hotel.

[ He leans in a little, nuzzles at his jaw.]

Or something more like the last time we were here.

[corkscrewed]

Jon-

[ martin lifts his chin slightly, savors the feeling. ]

This won't- change my mind.

[epistemological]

Martin.

[ He does his best, given the angle.]

Me? Playing the honeypot?

[ He won't even argue against it. Because it's patently ridiculous.]

I mean, honestly.

[ He does kiss him again, though.]

[corkscrewed]

[ to martin, who has been head over heels for jon since- well, who knows how long, really? it's not that ridiculous at all. ]

Don't say it like that.

[ he takes another kiss, still soft and quietly hungry. ]

If - if circumstances were different...

[epistemological]

I'm not even guessing where you're going with that.

[ Instead, he's going to kiss him again. Before drawing back just far enough to say-]

I'm not. Playing the honeypot.

Hadn't even occurred to me.

[ It really hadn't. If it had, he would have offered something significantly more enticing much earlier. He doesn't actually have much tact, after all, or a good understanding of what's appropriate.]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin is sometimes able to play it cool, and subtle, which is mostly helped by how much goddamn time he's spent alone lately - and how lonely it all is. sometimes, though, he falls apart into an awkward, rambling mess, even with jon's mouth inches from his. ]

No, I meant- I thought you meant it was a silly idea. You playing one. I didn't think you were actually doing it, I just thought - you were doubting it would work?

[ he groans softly at himself, touching his lips to jon's cheek. ]

[epistemological]

[ Well, now it's an interesting intellectual concept. Martin might be on top of him, a nice comfortable weight there, and he might be inches from him. But now he's curious.]

A silly idea to try on you or a silly idea for me?

[ He leans up to peck a kiss.]

Mostly, I'd be terrible at it.

[corkscrewed]

I can't believe we're having this conversation. This is- this is not what-

[ martin is somewhere between flustered and exasperated and sad and amused, and he kind of just deadweights on jon. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon actually sort of- he chuckles and presses a kiss on Martin's deadweight cheek.]

You're the one who brought it up, I point out.

[ He does sound so very fond.]

[corkscrewed]

I thought it might be- romantic. Or - god, poetic? As stupid as that sounds, to even care about something like that anymore.

[ he shifts enough to bury his face in the crook of jon's neck, huffing a breath there, before he begins to peel away. not off the bed just yet, but he's steeling himself for it. ]

[epistemological]

[ Perhaps it's not romantic. Or poetic. But what comes out is- ]

Martin, if I thought that I could sway you with sex, I would be on my knees this instant doing things no god has any part of.

[corkscrewed]

[ and he just makes a pitiful little sound, because the memory of jon's mouth on him is one that he's revisited again and again in the privacy of his own small flat. ]

I can't - [ he's struggling here, struggling so hard. ] I can't imagine not caring about this. You.

[epistemological]

Martin.

[ There is some sympathy there, his voice is softer, and his hands slide down along Martin's back. Settle there at the hips.]

I- I don't know what to say.

You know what I think. You know how I feel. The words have all been spoken.

[ His hands move again, soft.]

Let me?