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[ the institute is so quiet on the weekends. if jon allows himself to think about it for longer than a few moments, he gets carried away. it feels like being in a different city, a different world. a different plane. it doesn't feel like london. it doesn't even feel like they're in the institute; how can it, when beyond his closed eyes, jon is aware of the warm human body pressed close to him.
it's not exactly a feeling he would normally associate with the institute. quite the opposite, in fact.
he would never normally do this, lounging in the slightly too small bed with martin so late into the morning, where there is undoubtedly plenty of light illuminating a sunday in london. but it's sunday. at most there might be a few cleaners knocking about the main part of the institute, but no one in the archives. no one here, no one except them.
martin seems to be sleeping soundly, for all that jon can tell. he doesn't, sometimes. often. enough that jon has been able to notice it in the nights that they actually spend together. the whole thing of it is very strange — not sleeping soundly or otherwise, just... this. the fact that in the dim light beneath the cover doing a poor job of covering, jon can count in how many places martin's spine pushes slightly against his skin, and he does. martin never quite seemed to fill out again properly after nearly two weeks of rationing whatever he had in his place, or so it doesn't look like it to jon.
tim is probably right. he needs to stop mothering martin. it's an especially strange thing to do when their relationship so often consists of... yes.
he thumbs softly at the base of martin's spine, not intending to wake him, and unable to figure out why he even does it. it's just a tiny compulsion that he gives into. just one more to add to the list of compulsions he seems to give into around martin. and tim, though he finds that far more troublesome than this.
he should get up. go home, maybe.
but here he is, drawing the softest and slowest of lines up martin's back. ]
it's not exactly a feeling he would normally associate with the institute. quite the opposite, in fact.
he would never normally do this, lounging in the slightly too small bed with martin so late into the morning, where there is undoubtedly plenty of light illuminating a sunday in london. but it's sunday. at most there might be a few cleaners knocking about the main part of the institute, but no one in the archives. no one here, no one except them.
martin seems to be sleeping soundly, for all that jon can tell. he doesn't, sometimes. often. enough that jon has been able to notice it in the nights that they actually spend together. the whole thing of it is very strange — not sleeping soundly or otherwise, just... this. the fact that in the dim light beneath the cover doing a poor job of covering, jon can count in how many places martin's spine pushes slightly against his skin, and he does. martin never quite seemed to fill out again properly after nearly two weeks of rationing whatever he had in his place, or so it doesn't look like it to jon.
tim is probably right. he needs to stop mothering martin. it's an especially strange thing to do when their relationship so often consists of... yes.
he thumbs softly at the base of martin's spine, not intending to wake him, and unable to figure out why he even does it. it's just a tiny compulsion that he gives into. just one more to add to the list of compulsions he seems to give into around martin. and tim, though he finds that far more troublesome than this.
he should get up. go home, maybe.
but here he is, drawing the softest and slowest of lines up martin's back. ]
Edited 2017-09-12 13:31 (UTC)
[ martin doesn't mean to leap practically out of his skin.
but he does anyways. or rather, simply jolts. seconds prior, he'd been sleeping--deeply. he'd felt it on his head like an anvil, but some kind of blessed one, wrapped up in dozens and dozens of duvets and quilts. a pleasant pressure. sleep, sleep, sleep like a sweet voice between his ears, like the tucking of arms around his waist.
so when a thumb begins to draw a line up his spine, he jerks like he's breathless, fumbling, careening back into awareness. in his mind, it's a very big flailing motion, but really, his limbs are so sleep heavy it's just a sharp inhale like a hiccup and a jerk, fingers closing around the pillow and head fussing to turn around in the dark. the hand on his back is familiar, the warmth next to him even more so, but he has to reach out to touch.
so he does. fumbling, grabbing. he touches an elbow first, then a forearm, clinging and then turning in the bundle of sheets until he can just make out the features of jon through his sleep-hazy eyes. his blood is rumbling and rushing into his ears, both out of fear and embarrassment as he recognizes him, recognizes the touch... and he settles
practically deflates even, melting back into the bed sheets, but now turned towards jon, hand still clasped very tightly onto his arm, thumb digging in a bit. softly, a little sleep-slurred (but god does he think he's coherent right now): ]
... S'it time to get up?
[ almost sad really, he wants to go back to sleep. ]
but he does anyways. or rather, simply jolts. seconds prior, he'd been sleeping--deeply. he'd felt it on his head like an anvil, but some kind of blessed one, wrapped up in dozens and dozens of duvets and quilts. a pleasant pressure. sleep, sleep, sleep like a sweet voice between his ears, like the tucking of arms around his waist.
so when a thumb begins to draw a line up his spine, he jerks like he's breathless, fumbling, careening back into awareness. in his mind, it's a very big flailing motion, but really, his limbs are so sleep heavy it's just a sharp inhale like a hiccup and a jerk, fingers closing around the pillow and head fussing to turn around in the dark. the hand on his back is familiar, the warmth next to him even more so, but he has to reach out to touch.
so he does. fumbling, grabbing. he touches an elbow first, then a forearm, clinging and then turning in the bundle of sheets until he can just make out the features of jon through his sleep-hazy eyes. his blood is rumbling and rushing into his ears, both out of fear and embarrassment as he recognizes him, recognizes the touch... and he settles
practically deflates even, melting back into the bed sheets, but now turned towards jon, hand still clasped very tightly onto his arm, thumb digging in a bit. softly, a little sleep-slurred (but god does he think he's coherent right now): ]
... S'it time to get up?
[ almost sad really, he wants to go back to sleep. ]
[ should jon be surprised? he shouldn't, and he isn't, not really, though he he too starts when martin flings himself out of his deep sleep. it's not at all the same, to know that you fell asleep with another body draped and curled around yours, and to wake up to a strange touch on your back. jon should know better.
martin's fingers dig and press at his skin, but not painfully. just as though they're looking for something solid, familiar to grab hold of. martin's hardly one to hide how feels, all high strung nerves and emotion that he is, but this is different. it's a response to a single moment, immediate, instinctive, not a response based on words and thoughts he's been muddling through his head for however long already. it pushes at a very particular place in jon's chest, one he's not been aware of for a while.
the way that martin stares at him, after, sleep soft words tumbling from his mouth, is more than enough to bring jon back to his senses. ]
Not unless you make a habit of rising before seven in the morning on Sundays, [ he mutters dryly, his own voice a little rough from having recently been asleep. ] Which I highly doubt.
[ something else sits in the air between them, and jon can't quite figure out how to address it, but he tries. ]
I... didn't mean to startle you.
martin's fingers dig and press at his skin, but not painfully. just as though they're looking for something solid, familiar to grab hold of. martin's hardly one to hide how feels, all high strung nerves and emotion that he is, but this is different. it's a response to a single moment, immediate, instinctive, not a response based on words and thoughts he's been muddling through his head for however long already. it pushes at a very particular place in jon's chest, one he's not been aware of for a while.
the way that martin stares at him, after, sleep soft words tumbling from his mouth, is more than enough to bring jon back to his senses. ]
Not unless you make a habit of rising before seven in the morning on Sundays, [ he mutters dryly, his own voice a little rough from having recently been asleep. ] Which I highly doubt.
[ something else sits in the air between them, and jon can't quite figure out how to address it, but he tries. ]
I... didn't mean to startle you.
It's alright.
[ just hearing jon's voices eases him, brings him to turn all the way around, kicking the sheets out of a tangle along his legs. as he sinks back down, he feels it, that laziness gripping his bones, trying to lull him back down like he'd wanted now that the supposed threat is no longer. however, knowing that jon is awake this early... well. that's no good, is it.
the grip on his arm smooths out, less fingertips, more fingers as he uses him as leverage to edge a little close and maybe even just
press forward a bit until the crow of his head hits the top of jon's sternum lightly. his arm slips under his, pressing, pushing, like he's trying to get inside of him when really he's just trying to find the best place to listen to his heart a moment, pressing his cheek to warm skin stubbornly until he finds it. he makes a mess of the sheets and pillows, pulling and tugging and nudging, before he finally stills.
content.
this is alright. this is... this is fine. it's good. he breathes in once, breathes out, eyeballs the extinguisher sat on his desk quietly in the corner, and then eyes the curve of jon's shoulder. he should be asleep too, resting, dreamless sleep like martin had had to himself for however blessedly long it'd been. ]
And no, I don't. Give it another hour at least...
[ just hearing jon's voices eases him, brings him to turn all the way around, kicking the sheets out of a tangle along his legs. as he sinks back down, he feels it, that laziness gripping his bones, trying to lull him back down like he'd wanted now that the supposed threat is no longer. however, knowing that jon is awake this early... well. that's no good, is it.
the grip on his arm smooths out, less fingertips, more fingers as he uses him as leverage to edge a little close and maybe even just
press forward a bit until the crow of his head hits the top of jon's sternum lightly. his arm slips under his, pressing, pushing, like he's trying to get inside of him when really he's just trying to find the best place to listen to his heart a moment, pressing his cheek to warm skin stubbornly until he finds it. he makes a mess of the sheets and pillows, pulling and tugging and nudging, before he finally stills.
content.
this is alright. this is... this is fine. it's good. he breathes in once, breathes out, eyeballs the extinguisher sat on his desk quietly in the corner, and then eyes the curve of jon's shoulder. he should be asleep too, resting, dreamless sleep like martin had had to himself for however blessedly long it'd been. ]
And no, I don't. Give it another hour at least...
[ odd, affectionate and — strangely soothing.
those are the only ways jon could describe martin's behaviour right now, and it's just martin all over, isn't it? there are no surprises with him, no surprises that still seem broadly in keeping with his character. jon moves little as martin rearranges himself around him, only dutifully moving a limb or two out of the other man's way when he needs to. he considers asking what he's doing, but thinks better of it in the end. sometimes it's better not to hear the explanation, to just allow it to happen. mostly because the explanations will make jon invariably say something insensitive and rude.
or, astute and matter of fact, as jon would personally call it.
martin's cheek is warm. it makes a few rounds of the area beneath which jon's heart would be located, and if anything at least martin has cursory proof that jon has one at all, which he's sure plenty of people would try to dispute. he stays awkwardly still for just a moment before he relaxes a little into the position and draws his arms around martin, not exactly bringing him in any closer, but keeping him anchored at the very least. letting him know there is some kind of safety, here.
sleep is elusive for jon, and rarely dreamless. whenever he finally manages to switch his brain off from his endless thoughts, his sleep is peppered mostly with mundane, nonsensical dreams that he never particularly remembers. sometimes they take a more troubling shape, though. dreams about endless institute corridors filled with worms, flurries of paper statements documenting his possible demises. once he even dreamed that all he could do was search for tapes, and each one would be a recording of a familiar voice — martin, tim, sasha, even elias, he thinks — giving him instructions that always seemed out of order, and missing key details. it's not all awful, he supposes. he never wakes up feeling more exhausted than before he went to sleep. it's manageable, if nothing else. ]
I've nowhere else I need or want to be, [ he says, gruffly soft and dismissive ] Give it two.
those are the only ways jon could describe martin's behaviour right now, and it's just martin all over, isn't it? there are no surprises with him, no surprises that still seem broadly in keeping with his character. jon moves little as martin rearranges himself around him, only dutifully moving a limb or two out of the other man's way when he needs to. he considers asking what he's doing, but thinks better of it in the end. sometimes it's better not to hear the explanation, to just allow it to happen. mostly because the explanations will make jon invariably say something insensitive and rude.
or, astute and matter of fact, as jon would personally call it.
martin's cheek is warm. it makes a few rounds of the area beneath which jon's heart would be located, and if anything at least martin has cursory proof that jon has one at all, which he's sure plenty of people would try to dispute. he stays awkwardly still for just a moment before he relaxes a little into the position and draws his arms around martin, not exactly bringing him in any closer, but keeping him anchored at the very least. letting him know there is some kind of safety, here.
sleep is elusive for jon, and rarely dreamless. whenever he finally manages to switch his brain off from his endless thoughts, his sleep is peppered mostly with mundane, nonsensical dreams that he never particularly remembers. sometimes they take a more troubling shape, though. dreams about endless institute corridors filled with worms, flurries of paper statements documenting his possible demises. once he even dreamed that all he could do was search for tapes, and each one would be a recording of a familiar voice — martin, tim, sasha, even elias, he thinks — giving him instructions that always seemed out of order, and missing key details. it's not all awful, he supposes. he never wakes up feeling more exhausted than before he went to sleep. it's manageable, if nothing else. ]
I've nowhere else I need or want to be, [ he says, gruffly soft and dismissive ] Give it two.
[ there's a little bit of a thrill that tugs at martin somewhere between his chest and his throat, enough that his eyes go a little wide for half a second before he presses his mouth to the jut of jon's collarbone and kisses softly there, and then again higher up, and then once more until he reaches the line of his jaw and noses and kisses there just as well. it isn't the promise of two hours, sleeping in is overrated at this point and martin's half certain it'd be an uneasy dozing instead of the blissful sleep he'd been having earlier.
his fingers press into the line of jon's hip and he pushes himself back just a little to kiss him on the mouth, wrapped loosely in his arms. his elbow it falling asleep at this point, but he can't care at this point. the kiss is soft, barely open-mouthed, laziness at its finest before martin pulls away a little and cocks his head. ]
Do you...
[ he pauses, like he's trying to pick out just the right words, and hell, most of the time he is.
jon is all about the proper verbiage, precise, succinct, sharp. he works his lip with his teeth briefly before settling in a little closer. ]
... you really mean that?
[ the reassurance would be nice, even if jon doesn't give that to him, he'll live, it's stupid. he's being stupid. he brings his head down just a bit against the pillow again, that place where his ear had been now swept up under his palm as he lays it flat on jon's chest, thumb over the little crest of a beat. ]
his fingers press into the line of jon's hip and he pushes himself back just a little to kiss him on the mouth, wrapped loosely in his arms. his elbow it falling asleep at this point, but he can't care at this point. the kiss is soft, barely open-mouthed, laziness at its finest before martin pulls away a little and cocks his head. ]
Do you...
[ he pauses, like he's trying to pick out just the right words, and hell, most of the time he is.
jon is all about the proper verbiage, precise, succinct, sharp. he works his lip with his teeth briefly before settling in a little closer. ]
... you really mean that?
[ the reassurance would be nice, even if jon doesn't give that to him, he'll live, it's stupid. he's being stupid. he brings his head down just a bit against the pillow again, that place where his ear had been now swept up under his palm as he lays it flat on jon's chest, thumb over the little crest of a beat. ]
[ it could be worse. that first time they kissed in jon's office, it crossed his mind for a second to rebuff martin, as gently as he could manage. jon is far from the sentimental type, and his handling of emotional matters is entirely questionable much of the time, but it's different when there's genuinely no particular attachment between him and whoever he happens to be offending in that moment. for all that he complained about martin, it never meant that he didn't care, in his own strange and difficult way. this hasn't change various elements of their relationship. jon is no more relaxed about getting their work done, although martin knows now how to distract him — at the cost of the extra time jon will then make him put in so that they catch up on what they lost.
the kisses are practically a lullaby, sending jon back into a dozy, half-asleep state. when martin shifts back upwards, he shifts too, allowing their bodies to better slot together. a sigh, lost between their mouths, between a lazy and lovely kiss.
jon does not purposefully misunderstand what martin is talking about. for someone that loves words and archives and information, sometimes he doesn't think very much about what he gives away in his own. ]
Contrary to popular belief I do occasionally indulge in relaxation, Martin. I'm allowed to have lie ins when I want them. I just don't often want them.
[ lying in on your own is not nearly as enjoyable as doing it with someone else. he strokes a lazy hand against martin's warm hip. ]
the kisses are practically a lullaby, sending jon back into a dozy, half-asleep state. when martin shifts back upwards, he shifts too, allowing their bodies to better slot together. a sigh, lost between their mouths, between a lazy and lovely kiss.
jon does not purposefully misunderstand what martin is talking about. for someone that loves words and archives and information, sometimes he doesn't think very much about what he gives away in his own. ]
Contrary to popular belief I do occasionally indulge in relaxation, Martin. I'm allowed to have lie ins when I want them. I just don't often want them.
[ lying in on your own is not nearly as enjoyable as doing it with someone else. he strokes a lazy hand against martin's warm hip. ]
[ the extra work time is more than worth it, truth be told. martin wouldn't ever say otherwise. he also wouldn't dare to breathe it aloud either. it's a lot. lie ins are worth it just for this, however, when he can get them. usually he's sleepier than this, though, typically he just accepts it for what it is and doesn't ask any questions. he'd have turned back, rolled over to sleep again if his heart hadn't been set to racing accidentally.
and that's fine too. it's fine in the end.
especially when jon is kissing him back in the sleepy, at peace way he does, almost unbelievable in comparison to how he is in the archives, posturing authoritative, but gruff. he's assignments and tapes and casefiles all stacked in his arms and bags around his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead for years. martin can't say he isn't fond of both sides of the figurative coin that is jon.
martin's mouth twitches a little bit, but his eyes are fond, a sleepy sort of fond as he laughs just a little bit at the remark. ]
Least now I can say I've seen it first hand.
[ jon's hand is warm against his hip and he sighs, pressing his leg forward to tangle them further together. the spur of his ankle brushes up jon's shin almost slyly. ]
Gonna swear me to secrecy now?
and that's fine too. it's fine in the end.
especially when jon is kissing him back in the sleepy, at peace way he does, almost unbelievable in comparison to how he is in the archives, posturing authoritative, but gruff. he's assignments and tapes and casefiles all stacked in his arms and bags around his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead for years. martin can't say he isn't fond of both sides of the figurative coin that is jon.
martin's mouth twitches a little bit, but his eyes are fond, a sleepy sort of fond as he laughs just a little bit at the remark. ]
Least now I can say I've seen it first hand.
[ jon's hand is warm against his hip and he sighs, pressing his leg forward to tangle them further together. the spur of his ankle brushes up jon's shin almost slyly. ]
Gonna swear me to secrecy now?
[ as they continue to shift and settle around each other, gentle, easy-going fidgeting between the sheets, jon forgets everything else outside of this room for a little while. he has the kind of mind that never lets him forget anything for too long, the kind of mind that picks over minute details obsessively and wildly if given half the chance, but martin is a sweet sort of kindness in his life. he gives jon moments that he never looked for or sought out, and it makes it all feel strangely natural.
his tone starts off flat. ]
Don't be absurd, Martin.
[ is
is that a small smirk
is it a smirk (yes, it is) ]
No one would believe you if you told them.
[ a portion of hell must be freezing over, or maybe that sunday morning feeling is really making its impressions on jon. another kiss, this one a little heavier, with more intent behind it, though it's more the weight of ... feeling, rather than action. like it's the only kind of way he can let martin know that it's there. ]
his tone starts off flat. ]
Don't be absurd, Martin.
[ is
is that a small smirk
is it a smirk (yes, it is) ]
No one would believe you if you told them.
[ a portion of hell must be freezing over, or maybe that sunday morning feeling is really making its impressions on jon. another kiss, this one a little heavier, with more intent behind it, though it's more the weight of ... feeling, rather than action. like it's the only kind of way he can let martin know that it's there. ]
Got everyone fooled into thinking you're a real heartless workaholic, don't you?
[ martin says it with conviction and also half a laugh, feeling the warmth of jon's mouth bear down on him, meaningfully. he tugs just a bit, pulls his direction until fall fully back into the bed. he can taste the little remnants of that smirk on jon's lips, enough that he kisses back a little harder just to wipe it off of his face. he frees himself a little bit to slide his other leg along his hip, to pull him on top of him beneath the sheets until they are flush, chest to chest, limbs half a tangle.
hell is definitely freezing over and martin can't possibly give a damn. ]
Except me.
[ his hands press upwards, cupping the warmth of jon's jaw, the raze of stubble having already made his mouth raw from the night before, now just grazing all along the very same path. martin presses hungrily against him, mouth and body completely. of course he intends to sleep in some more, but not without a few more kisses before then. ]
[ martin says it with conviction and also half a laugh, feeling the warmth of jon's mouth bear down on him, meaningfully. he tugs just a bit, pulls his direction until fall fully back into the bed. he can taste the little remnants of that smirk on jon's lips, enough that he kisses back a little harder just to wipe it off of his face. he frees himself a little bit to slide his other leg along his hip, to pull him on top of him beneath the sheets until they are flush, chest to chest, limbs half a tangle.
hell is definitely freezing over and martin can't possibly give a damn. ]
Except me.
[ his hands press upwards, cupping the warmth of jon's jaw, the raze of stubble having already made his mouth raw from the night before, now just grazing all along the very same path. martin presses hungrily against him, mouth and body completely. of course he intends to sleep in some more, but not without a few more kisses before then. ]
I have something very important that I should tell you. But.
First things first, Jon.
I don't want you to panic.
First things first, Jon.
I don't want you to panic.
Fooled? They came to it of their own conclusions, [ he protests; contrary to belief, he is not heartless, he is merely... tough, in some respects. a workaholic, certainly, but there's no saying that one cannot be a workaholic and still be able to have fun. it simply requires time management. and a desire or reason to have fun, which, admittedly jon hardly went looking for before. ] But it ensures my staff are on their toes around me, so I'd like you to keep this secret, thank you.
[ is he teasing or serious? it's a mystery.
but he hasn't stopped kissing martin in the process, so there you go. it's a good place to be, their chests pressed together, martin's thighs bracketing him comfortably. he knows how rough his jaw must be, but if it isn't deterring martin then it won't deter him either, especially not when he allows his mouth to wander.
he kisses the edge of martin's jaw, the underside of his chin, craning down to find the soft, warm hollow of his neck. the pale skin there rapidly turns what jon thinks is a very becoming shade of pink, from the scratch of his bristly stubble. ]
[ is he teasing or serious? it's a mystery.
but he hasn't stopped kissing martin in the process, so there you go. it's a good place to be, their chests pressed together, martin's thighs bracketing him comfortably. he knows how rough his jaw must be, but if it isn't deterring martin then it won't deter him either, especially not when he allows his mouth to wander.
he kisses the edge of martin's jaw, the underside of his chin, craning down to find the soft, warm hollow of his neck. the pale skin there rapidly turns what jon thinks is a very becoming shade of pink, from the scratch of his bristly stubble. ]
Tim took a fire extinguisher off the wall in the hallway to play Ghostbusters.
And I want you to know that almost NOTHING of extreme value was lost.
And I want you to know that almost NOTHING of extreme value was lost.
I find myself with many questions that I wish to ask without wanting to know the answer, so I will endeavour not to sate my curiosity on this occasion, less I provoke myself further than you already have.
"Almost" nothing, Martin.
Elaborate. Now.
"Almost" nothing, Martin.
Elaborate. Now.
We really tried to salvage it.
[ erm. ]
A few casefiles dated late October 2008.
[ erm. ]
A few casefiles dated late October 2008.
[ Big Mood. ]
And maybe. A few tapes.
I'm not sure if they were emptied or not.
And maybe. A few tapes.
I'm not sure if they were emptied or not.
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