[ jon like this is... different, but not a bad sort of different. the 80% of the time that martin spends with him is primarily working alongside him, every case file he is given, every follow up, he does it for him to the best of his ability, and nothing changes. not the nagging or the criticisms. he likes it that way. things are... normal that way. at their best.
but this?
this is a whole different... species of jon, one that martin is fairly sure existed but. not for him.
regardless, his mention of the overnights, of how he keeps them to a minimum, that's understandable. martin knows that jon has a home, has a bed. god, he has one too, but he just can't bring himself to go and stay there for more than a night. he'd tried once, gone home, and he'd barely gotten a half hour of sleep, spending the rest of it petrified, wide awake, shambling to work like a damn... zombie the next day (terrible phrasing.)
jon's hand tugs, draws him out of his own head. a route? right... right a route. hm. ]
I...
[ oh no. ]
Well, I didn't think that far ahead I was rather eager to just. Leave. With you.
[ that's all. he tugs closer and at least begins moving them in some direction. forward is good right? it's a start. it's away from the archives. ]
[ if martin was even a little bit sure that jon had this side to him, then he was the most relentless optimist of anyone that jon had ever known. in fairness, this was something that he would have suspected of the man anyway. martin cares, and martin believes. he believes in hopeful things and happy endings — and if he's struggling to believe in them, then he believes that little bit harder. it's not the worst way to be. there is no best way, either. realists were the worst. they were the ones that liked to dress up their negativity in a stiff upper lip and claim some kind of superiority for it.
that, incidentally, was the category that jon fell into.
he almost argues, attempts to inject a random instance of much needed structure and suggest them a route, but martin is tugging on his hand and pulling him along, and he stops himself. mouth opens and then snaps shut again as he simply tips his head in deference to martin's decision to just go somewhere. anywhere. jon was startlingly aware of the fact that he didn't mind this, in present company.
still, doesn't stop his mouth from moving independently of his decision to accept this. ]
You? Not thinking far enough ahead? Wonders never cease. I seem to recall that this was also the case when you kissed me after spilling beer all over yourself.
Well if you have suggestions, then I'll take them. Because as far as I know I just...
[ martin stops tugging firmly, instead merely holds his hand and lines up with him as they move together in some semblance of a direction. anything beyond the walls of the institute is both better and frightening simultaneously, but martin can't say he hasn't missed the feel of the cool night air without fear of threat, or the way the street lights warm the sidewalk with their color. ]
I just wanted to go somewhere.
[ anywhere is the implied somewhere as his fingers twitch just a bit and he leans in to press a small kiss to the side of jon's cheek, to his jaw, closing his eyes for half a moment and breathing him in with a sigh before pulling back and up a bit more. ]
And if I recall correctly, you didn't seem to mind very much.
[ a sly look shifting underneath martin's uncertainty, an edge of weary playfulness. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but this?
this is a whole different... species of jon, one that martin is fairly sure existed but. not for him.
regardless, his mention of the overnights, of how he keeps them to a minimum, that's understandable. martin knows that jon has a home, has a bed. god, he has one too, but he just can't bring himself to go and stay there for more than a night. he'd tried once, gone home, and he'd barely gotten a half hour of sleep, spending the rest of it petrified, wide awake, shambling to work like a damn... zombie the next day (terrible phrasing.)
jon's hand tugs, draws him out of his own head. a route? right... right a route. hm. ]
I...
[ oh no. ]
Well, I didn't think that far ahead I was rather eager to just. Leave. With you.
[ that's all. he tugs closer and at least begins moving them in some direction. forward is good right? it's a start. it's away from the archives. ]
no subject
that, incidentally, was the category that jon fell into.
he almost argues, attempts to inject a random instance of much needed structure and suggest them a route, but martin is tugging on his hand and pulling him along, and he stops himself. mouth opens and then snaps shut again as he simply tips his head in deference to martin's decision to just go somewhere. anywhere. jon was startlingly aware of the fact that he didn't mind this, in present company.
still, doesn't stop his mouth from moving independently of his decision to accept this. ]
You? Not thinking far enough ahead? Wonders never cease. I seem to recall that this was also the case when you kissed me after spilling beer all over yourself.
no subject
[ martin stops tugging firmly, instead merely holds his hand and lines up with him as they move together in some semblance of a direction. anything beyond the walls of the institute is both better and frightening simultaneously, but martin can't say he hasn't missed the feel of the cool night air without fear of threat, or the way the street lights warm the sidewalk with their color. ]
I just wanted to go somewhere.
[ anywhere is the implied somewhere as his fingers twitch just a bit and he leans in to press a small kiss to the side of jon's cheek, to his jaw, closing his eyes for half a moment and breathing him in with a sigh before pulling back and up a bit more. ]
And if I recall correctly, you didn't seem to mind very much.
[ a sly look shifting underneath martin's uncertainty, an edge of weary playfulness. ]