Jon’s leg was taking a while to heal. It had actually looked better just after they’d left Basira. Rest wasn’t really a thing in this world, but Martin wasn’t willing to let Jon continue to walk on an injury, and Jon was…
…apologizing. A lot.
It was honestly frustrating.
“Martin, please stop pacing,” Jon said. “You’re making me jealous.”
Martin stopped, but didn’t react to Jon’s gently teasing tone. It was a peace offering. He wasn’t feeling particularly peaceful.
“How does it look?” he asked instead.
Jon sighed. “It’s healing. Honestly, it looks worse than it feels. I’m sorry for holding us up, but–”
Martin made an exasperated noise and started pacing again. More apologies.
“…I know I’m not supposed to Know why you’re upset, but I can’t help feel like I’m making things worse. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” Martin lied. “Just stop apologizing.”
“Even without reading your mind, I know that’s not what’s really bothering you.”
It was ungrateful, was the thing. Jon had guided them, kept them safe. Basira had clearly had a worse time of it, because Jon hadn’t been with her. Martin should just be quiet and appreciative for Jon’s protection and Sight. And, Martin knew, he would have been, even a year ago.
A year of protecting Jon and the others, a year of suffering for them, sublimating his own desires, embracing something that could hollow him out if it let it… A lot could change in a year. Martin had changed. He wasn’t entirely ungrateful, of course, but…
“You could trust me a little,” Martin mumbled.
“What?” Jon said, clearly surprised. “Of course I trust you, Martin. More than I trust anyone else. Is this about what happened with Trevor, because I explained that…”
“It’s not just that. It’s… you Know all these things, and you hide some of them and show some of them. You wouldn’t let us leave that poor girl’s dead body until Basira admitted that she understood whatever you were trying to tell her. You decide exactly who gets to know what and when and, yeah, that’s a problem for me because I’m better than you at this.”
Jon stared at him. “I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t have sounded more insulted if he’d tried.
Martin didn’t care.
“Yeah. I’m better at this than you. Your plans? Are shit. Ooh, you Know everything? Well, great, but your implementation of that knowledge sucks.”
“And you think you can do better?”
“You and Basira had a row while Daisy stalked you and attacked you. Yeah, I think that I can do better. I tricked Peter Lukas into manoeuvring me into a key position for The Lonely’s ritual and then I ruined it. Sound familiar? I mean, except for the ruining it bit.” Jon reacted as if Martin had slapped him. Martin wanted so badly to feel guilty for saying such an awful thing but, apart from the baseline guilt he always felt, he mostly felt a rush of satisfaction. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. Jon shouldn’t have been surprised.
“I… wasn’t aware you felt this way.”
Martin sighed, the satisfaction easing away. “You weren’t aware that I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me? You weren’t aware that I don’t like being surprised if I don’t have to be? You weren’t aware that every good idea we’ve ever had has come from me?”
“That’s… I mean… a bit of an exaggeration.”
“Arresting Elias, getting you out of the buried, keeping Peter’s attention and derailing his ritual…”
“You said that one already.”
“It’s a pretty big deal.”
Jon looked down and Martin sighed and sat next to him. “It’s not just you. Everyone underestimates me. That’s… kind of the point? I mean, I got a job as a researcher after dropping out of school. I was bad at my job because no one had ever taught me, I just learned as I went. I’m smart, though and… and honestly, pretty manipulative and cold-blooded. I’m not a burden you have to protect. I can be a weapon you can wield.”
“I don’t want you to be,” Jon said softly. “This is my mess, and I can’t bear the thought of you just thinking I brought you along to clean up after me.”
“It’s kind of what I do,” Martin said, not unkindly. “I’m not asking you to relinquish any kind of control, just… let me help. Give me the tools to help you.”
“Alright,” Jon said, faintly. Then, “Alright.” With more certainty. “I still reserve the right to use my powers to protect you, but you’re right. If I can give you any forewarning, I will. And, if you seem to have a plan, I’ll follow your lead, as best I can.”
That was more than Martin had expected. “Thank you.”
They sat together in companionable silence for a few long moments. Martin felt empty, as if all the pent up anger and frustration had been fuel and now he was depleted.
“-rtin. Martin!”
Martin startled. “What?” He hadn’t been asleep. He couldn’t sleep. What had happened?
Jon was kneeling in front of him, looking worried. “You went away for a second.”
“Oh, I guess I…” Martin gave a little laugh. “Safe space. Still a little shaken, I suppose.”
Jon frowned and tucked a lock of hair behind Martin’s ear. “You’re still trembling.”
“Well, I almost got killed by a crazed tramp, strolled through Basira’s personal hell with her working hard not to care and you not letting her not care, and then nearly watched you get torn to shreds. Yeah, I might’ve needed a moment.”
“You might need more than that,” Jon said. “There has to be something I can do to help.”
Martin smiled. “It’s fine. You don’t need to do anything.”
“Can we agree that if you’re going to use your manipulative wiles on me, I get to Know what you really need?” Jon asked sharply.
Martin felt his smile fade. “Wiles, huh? That’s… that’s a word choice, I guess.”
“Martin.”
“Okay,” Martin said, feeling brave or maybe just reckless. “Go ahead. Know.”
Jon focused on him, and Martin felt the uncomfortably wonderful sensation of being truly Seen. There were more than a few reasons why he’d asked Jon not to do this, he remembered, squirming a little under that unrelenting Gaze, caught between fear and an odd kind of desire.
“Oh,” Jon said softly. He gave Martin a small, tentative smile, and moved closer. “Okay, I can do that.”
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timeasmymeasure
Fill :Jon/Martin, 176 makeup sex 1/2
Date: 2020-12-06 03:11 am (UTC)…apologizing. A lot.
It was honestly frustrating.
“Martin, please stop pacing,” Jon said. “You’re making me jealous.”
Martin stopped, but didn’t react to Jon’s gently teasing tone. It was a peace offering. He wasn’t feeling particularly peaceful.
“How does it look?” he asked instead.
Jon sighed. “It’s healing. Honestly, it looks worse than it feels. I’m sorry for holding us up, but–”
Martin made an exasperated noise and started pacing again. More apologies.
“…I know I’m not supposed to Know why you’re upset, but I can’t help feel like I’m making things worse. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” Martin lied. “Just stop apologizing.”
“Even without reading your mind, I know that’s not what’s really bothering you.”
It was ungrateful, was the thing. Jon had guided them, kept them safe. Basira had clearly had a worse time of it, because Jon hadn’t been with her. Martin should just be quiet and appreciative for Jon’s protection and Sight. And, Martin knew, he would have been, even a year ago.
A year of protecting Jon and the others, a year of suffering for them, sublimating his own desires, embracing something that could hollow him out if it let it… A lot could change in a year. Martin had changed. He wasn’t entirely ungrateful, of course, but…
“You could trust me a little,” Martin mumbled.
“What?” Jon said, clearly surprised. “Of course I trust you, Martin. More than I trust anyone else. Is this about what happened with Trevor, because I explained that…”
“It’s not just that. It’s… you Know all these things, and you hide some of them and show some of them. You wouldn’t let us leave that poor girl’s dead body until Basira admitted that she understood whatever you were trying to tell her. You decide exactly who gets to know what and when and, yeah, that’s a problem for me because I’m better than you at this.”
Jon stared at him. “I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t have sounded more insulted if he’d tried.
Martin didn’t care.
“Yeah. I’m better at this than you. Your plans? Are shit. Ooh, you Know everything? Well, great, but your implementation of that knowledge sucks.”
“And you think you can do better?”
“You and Basira had a row while Daisy stalked you and attacked you. Yeah, I think that I can do better. I tricked Peter Lukas into manoeuvring me into a key position for The Lonely’s ritual and then I ruined it. Sound familiar? I mean, except for the ruining it bit.” Jon reacted as if Martin had slapped him. Martin wanted so badly to feel guilty for saying such an awful thing but, apart from the baseline guilt he always felt, he mostly felt a rush of satisfaction. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. Jon shouldn’t have been surprised.
“I… wasn’t aware you felt this way.”
Martin sighed, the satisfaction easing away. “You weren’t aware that I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me? You weren’t aware that I don’t like being surprised if I don’t have to be? You weren’t aware that every good idea we’ve ever had has come from me?”
“That’s… I mean… a bit of an exaggeration.”
“Arresting Elias, getting you out of the buried, keeping Peter’s attention and derailing his ritual…”
“You said that one already.”
“It’s a pretty big deal.”
Jon looked down and Martin sighed and sat next to him. “It’s not just you. Everyone underestimates me. That’s… kind of the point? I mean, I got a job as a researcher after dropping out of school. I was bad at my job because no one had ever taught me, I just learned as I went. I’m smart, though and… and honestly, pretty manipulative and cold-blooded. I’m not a burden you have to protect. I can be a weapon you can wield.”
“I don’t want you to be,” Jon said softly. “This is my mess, and I can’t bear the thought of you just thinking I brought you along to clean up after me.”
“It’s kind of what I do,” Martin said, not unkindly. “I’m not asking you to relinquish any kind of control, just… let me help. Give me the tools to help you.”
“Alright,” Jon said, faintly. Then, “Alright.” With more certainty. “I still reserve the right to use my powers to protect you, but you’re right. If I can give you any forewarning, I will. And, if you seem to have a plan, I’ll follow your lead, as best I can.”
That was more than Martin had expected. “Thank you.”
They sat together in companionable silence for a few long moments. Martin felt empty, as if all the pent up anger and frustration had been fuel and now he was depleted.
“-rtin. Martin!”
Martin startled. “What?” He hadn’t been asleep. He couldn’t sleep. What had happened?
Jon was kneeling in front of him, looking worried. “You went away for a second.”
“Oh, I guess I…” Martin gave a little laugh. “Safe space. Still a little shaken, I suppose.”
Jon frowned and tucked a lock of hair behind Martin’s ear. “You’re still trembling.”
“Well, I almost got killed by a crazed tramp, strolled through Basira’s personal hell with her working hard not to care and you not letting her not care, and then nearly watched you get torn to shreds. Yeah, I might’ve needed a moment.”
“You might need more than that,” Jon said. “There has to be something I can do to help.”
Martin smiled. “It’s fine. You don’t need to do anything.”
“Can we agree that if you’re going to use your manipulative wiles on me, I get to Know what you really need?” Jon asked sharply.
Martin felt his smile fade. “Wiles, huh? That’s… that’s a word choice, I guess.”
“Martin.”
“Okay,” Martin said, feeling brave or maybe just reckless. “Go ahead. Know.”
Jon focused on him, and Martin felt the uncomfortably wonderful sensation of being truly Seen. There were more than a few reasons why he’d asked Jon not to do this, he remembered, squirming a little under that unrelenting Gaze, caught between fear and an odd kind of desire.
“Oh,” Jon said softly. He gave Martin a small, tentative smile, and moved closer. “Okay, I can do that.”