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They’d been running nonstop for what felt like years at this point, though in reality it had only been a few weeks. Even so, Martin already felt like he had no idea of what to do next. Jon seemed so out of it, and every time he tilted his head back to peer up at the sky, full of clouds covered in giant, unmoving eyes, Martin had to physically drag Jon into the nearest building.
Martin had a bag full of food slung over his back, but there had been no time to grab any statements for Jon, and it seemed almost like Martin could actually feel Jon shrinking over the past couple of days. What if he kept disappearing bit by bit until there was nothing left of him? (Though it already felt rather like there was nothing left, and Martin could only hope that Jon would go back to normal soon).
After checking to make sure that Jon was securely in place on the couch, Martin went about checking out the house that they had just found and decided to squat in. The windows were all locked (except for maybe the three that were in the upstairs hallway showing impossible things. Martin decided not to touch those ones). A table and a few chairs shoved up against the front door and a fridge up against the back door would hopefully keep out any unwanted guests. The gas stove still worked, and Martin felt relieved that he’d be able to make some hot food, even if it was just canned soup.
While the soup was heating up, Martin kept poking his head out into the living room to check on Jon. He seemed a bit more lucid than he had earlier, and he looked around the room with confusion. Despite the circumstances, Martin had to admit that the way Jon furrowed his eyebrows did look rather adorable. Once Jon started to look too interested in knowing about his surroundings, Martin cleared his throat to interrupt. He wasn’t sure if Jon Knowing things would call attention to them, but even if it didn’t, he could tell that it wasn’t helpful to Jon’s recovery. “Are you going to try any of this soup?”
Jon blinked a few times, eyes looking bleary and owlish without his glasses to hide behind (they’d been dropped and cracked at one point, but Jon had continued on untroubled. Martin tried not to think too hard about the implications of that). “No, I’m not-” he had to stop and clear his throat when his voice caught. “I’m not hungry.”
Martin could feel the way his features pinched together in concern. “Are you sure? You haven’t eaten anything in a couple of days now.”
“Haven’t been hungry,” Jon grunted out.
Martin crossed his arms over his chest and heaved out a long sigh, but Jon didn’t seem like he was going to change his mind any time soon, and Martin was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to get anywhere by trying to force the food down Jon’s throat, no matter how much he wanted to. “I’ll save you some in case you change your mind,” Martin said after taking a moment to calm himself down. Maybe Jon wasn’t going to die of starvation, no matter what it seemed like. Maybe the apocalypse they were facing would just miraculously disappear. Maybe Martin would be able to get some peaceful sleep for once. But he didn’t think any of that was actually likely. He just knew that he had to stay calm anyways, because they couldn’t afford for both of them to check out.
He settled down next to Jon on the couch, and slowly began to have his soup, savoring the comforting warmth of it. He wasn’t really paying attention to much of anything, so it came as something of a surprise when he suddenly felt the weight of Jon’s head pressed up against his shoulder, and Martin completely froze. He didn’t want to move and dislodge Jon if it had been an unintentional action. And he especially didn’t want to find out that the other man had finally gotten some sleep only to be woken up by Martin.
But Jon clearly wasn’t asleep, because he spoke in a soft voice after a few seconds of leaning against Martin. “I’m sorry that I’m not… I’m sorry. All of this is my fault, and you’d be better-”
“Off without you?” Martin finished, words coming out much more coolly than normal. He could feel a growing knot in his stomach, and he refused to look down at Jon, even as he shifted to lean back and settle the half-full bowl on his lap. “If you honestly think that I’ve tried so hard to keep you alive just to go off on my own now-”
Jon quickly pulled away from Martin and shook his head earnestly. “No, no I’m not telling you to go! Or saying that I’m going to go.” He hesitated before adding in a quieter voice. “I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me to. I just- I just wanted to say that you would be better off without me, so thank you for staying with me.” Then he pulled his legs up so that his knees were pressed against his chest and his face was pressed into his knees.
Martin sighed, and set the bowl down on the nearby coffee table so that he could turn to face Jon without worrying about any soup spillage. “Jon, it’s not- it’s not your fault about any of this. You were tricked by Eli- Jonah. Even you can’t Know everything.”
When Jon slowly peered up, eyes barely visible through the fringe of his long, untamed hair, Martin could practically feel the ripe mix of hope and desperation radiating off of him. “Martin, I…” Jon trailed off, and Martin leaned closer, almost certain that Jon was about to say the words that had so far gone unsaid between them, even though at this point it had been nearly two months since Jon had pulled him out of the Lonely. Jon just ducked his head back down, though, and his words came out slightly muffled through the fabric of his trousers. “You never told me about the cows.”
It took Martin a moment to figure out what Jon was talking about, and then he remembered the last conversation they’d had before the end of the world had started. He couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out at the thought of such a ridiculous request at a time like this.
Then he scooted over to wrap his arm around Jon’s shoulders to pull him close, trying not to think about how easy it was to feel Jon’s ribs even through his thick jumper (that had been Martin’s first, and even with both of them dirty and exhausted, Martin still appreciated the sight of Jon in his clothes). Martin hoped that if he acted confident enough, he might be able to fool both of them into thinking that he had even the slightest idea what he was doing. “I know you never got the chance to look at them, but they were extremely fluffy.”
Jon’s head poked up, curiosity written across his features. Martin was relieved to see that it was a normal, Jon-level of curiosity, and not the Eye’s everlasting desire to Know. “Cows aren’t fluffy, Martin.” And oh, how Martin loved the way his name sounded in Jon’s voice. It used to sound bitter and annoyed, but now it was only full of helpless affection that Jon didn’t bother trying to hide.
Martin grinned as he shifted to try and subtly press Jon closer to him. “Scottish cows are. Great big beasts covered in long fluffy hair, and they’re so friendly. I walked by this one pasture that had a whole bunch of ‘em, but only a couple came up to the fence, and they were eager to be pet.” Martin moved his hand from Jon’s side up to Jon’s hair instead, and lightly scritched the top of his head. Jon seemed to relax, and also seemed to unconsciously butt his head into Martin’s hand, and Martin bit his lip to try and hide the giant grin that threatened to break out. “Some of them had tags in their ears, I think to identify their owners if they got loose? But from a distance they could have easily been the latest fashion fad.”
Jon snorted, and Martin felt it was an enormous victory to coax even the slightest laugh out of the man he- well. “I bet you made friends with all of them, didn’t you?”
“I’m a regular Disney princess,” Martin agreed with a light laugh. Of course he didn’t actually look anything like a princess, or prince for that matter. But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts, not when he was still so worried about Jon. It felt as though when he’d been hired at the Magnus Institute, his real job hadn’t been to be a researcher, but to worry about Jonathan Sims. He ran his hand through Jon’s unruly hair, and then tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know, if you took better care of your hair, maybe trimmed it up or something, you might actually be the Disney princess.”
Jon scoffed, but Martin could see the way his cheeks darkened, and he felt another wave of victory at the reaction. “Shut up. Tell me more about the cows.”
“Well, which is it? Do you want me to shut up, or do you want me to tell you more about the cows?”
Jon rolled his eyes, though there was none of the annoyance and frustration that always used to be in that gesture, and he gently swatted at Martin’s chest. Martin let out a loud mock gasp and then toppled backwards, though he grabbed Jon by the waist to tug him back too.
They both collapsed on the couch, and Martin found that he rather liked the weight of Jon on top of him (though he did wish it was a more substantial weight). They both laughed, but once they started looking each other in the eyes, the playful mood slowly dissipated. There was a thick tension in the air between them.
Then Jon leaned forward before Martin could even really comprehend it, and their lips were pressed together. It wasn’t the most amazing kiss Martin had ever had (though his experience with kisses wasn’t exactly at the expert level), but it was still the best one ever because it was Jon, and because Jon had made the first move, and even though neither of them had really said the words out loud, it was pretty clear how they both felt about each other.
Martin just wanted the kiss to last forever, but eventually Jon pulled away breathlessly, and Martin wasn’t thinking well enough to be embarrassed about the little whine he let out. Jon gave him a serious look, though, so Martin did his best to return to planet Earth. “Martin, I don’t-”
“I know,” Martin quickly assured him. “I don’t care. Ah, I don’t mean that I don’t care that you’re not… I just mean that it doesn’t bother me. I just want to be with you, whatever that means for us.” He cleared his throat, and tried to think of unsexy things (like the opposite of Jon on top of him, whatever that might be) because he didn’t want to upset Jon with any of his body’s natural reactions, but then he realized that there was just a bit of an awkward silence between them, and Martin knew that Jon was waiting for more. So he sighed, and pushed Jon back so that they could both sit up and look at each other properly. “Is, uh, is kissing still okay?”
There was a pause, and then Jon let out a startled laugh, looking immediately shocked by the noise. It had been far too long since Jon had had reason to genuinely laugh at all, and Martin decided to make it his mission to get Jon to laugh more often. But right now he needed to focus on the conversation that they were having. “Kissing is fine,” Jon said, and then immediately looked frustrated, though it seemed to be with himself and not Martin. “That’s not how I- I meant to say that it was very nice,” Jon said delicately, face growing ever darker. “And if you want to continue doing that, I would be- appreciative.”
Martin couldn’t help it, he just had to laugh at how awkward Jon sounded. He clearly hadn’t been lying when he’d told Martin that he wasn’t the best at navigating relationships. But that was alright, because Martin wasn’t the best at it either, but he was sure that they’d be able to figure it out together (regardless of the fear apocalypse that continued to rage on around them).
Martin scooted so that his back was up against the arm of the couch, and after a moment of hesitation, Jon’s eyes lit up and he moved to sit between Martin’s legs. It was sad that they could both fit on the couch like this, and Martin really hoped that he’d figure out a way to get Jon back to full strength.
Then those thoughts were forgotten about when Jon leaned his head back against Martin’s chest, and Martin felt awkward and unsure of what to do. He was saved when Jon grabbed Martin’s hands and moved them where he wanted them, which was apparently clasped together against Jon’s stomach. “Tell me more about the cows,” Jon murmured, sounding tired.
Martin pulled Jon up just a bit so that the top of his head would be perfectly tucked under Martin’s chin, and then he spoke about the cows in great detail in a quiet voice, even once he could feel Jon’s breaths slow and even out, an indication that he was asleep. And Martin forgot about the soup as it cooled completely. He didn’t need the warmth and comfort of some tinned food, not when he had the warmth and comfort of Jon pressed up against him, their bodies in perfect alignment.