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They had to talk. It was inevitable. It was necessary. It needed to be done if they wanted to advance their relationship beyond blushing, light touches, and even lighter kisses. Unfortunately, neither of them was very good at talking at the moment and Jon knew he was horrific at it on the best of days. He was a man who lived via other people's words yet always found himself bereft of them when he needed them most. Any further examination would lead him down a shame spiral of his own inadequacies in the archives, but that's not where he needed his focus.
They needed to talk.
They needed to talk about sex.
Jon needed to talk about sex.
Jon needed to talk about being asexual.
Jon needed to talk to Martin about being asexual.
Jon didn't want to talk.
Jon was afraid to talk.
Jon was afraid to talk to Martin about being asexual.
Jon was afraid their relationship was over before it even began.
He tried to shake away the doubts, reset his expectations. Martin was a gentle soul, kind to even the orneriest of people - Jon included and likely at the top of the list. He didn't seem the type to immediately dismiss a person based on their sexuality, but Jon didn't know his relationship history. He could Know, if he concentrated, but that was a boundary he didn't dare cross. Martin's life was his to reveal as he saw fit. Knowing would set a bad precedent in a relationship that already had a rocky, but fairly solid, foundation.
Still, it was hard not to plan for the worst case scenario. It was easier to plan for it. That way it wouldn't hurt if Martin rejected him. It didn't seem likely, but Jon had never been good at reading people. Just because Martin had a crush on him for years, just because he gave himself over to the Lonely to keep Jon safe, just because he ran away with him to Scotland of all places didn't mean he'd be completely on board with this one, very important aspect of his identity.
This was already a disaster and he hadn't made a sound yet. Martin was sitting at the table near the kitchen, engrossed in a creative burst that had him writing hurriedly as if the words would escape him if he wasn't pressing pen to paper.
Now wasn't the right time.
Martin was busy writing.
Martin was still fighting the last vestiges of the Lonely.
Martin didn't need the burden of Jon's anxieties.
It was better to stay quiet and help Martin feel comforted and loved.
But what if Martin wanted more than hushed whispers and gentle caresses? What if he wanted a partner who could provide emotional and physical comfort? Jon was barely able to provide the former and the latter...
He sank further into the sofa, stuffing his face into the pillow to stifle his groans. This was agony. Absolutely agony.
"Jon? You okay?" Martin asked.
And now it was worse.
Peeking over the pillow, Jon could see the concern radiating from Martin's face and body language. He was ready to spring from the chair, his focus entirely on Jon's well-being. He hadn't meant to be so loud and now Martin wasn't writing and that was on him. He owed it to Martin to get this conversation over and done so he'd know exactly where he stood and how uncomfortable their time together would be before returning to London.
Martin deserved time to heal.
He didn't need Jon's insecurities draining his energy.
Rising from the sofa, Jon dragged himself to the table, sitting across from Martin. He must have looked the picture of misery because Martin immediately reached out, taking his hands and rubbing them gently.
"Jon?"
"We need to...talk," Jon said. He felt Martin's grip tighten.
"Okay," Martin said, nervously. "Talk about what?"
"We need to talk," he sighed and paused, "about sex."
He looked up to gauge Martin's reaction. Confusion and anxiety crossed his face multiple times, like he couldn't quite decide on what to feel.
"S-sex? Wh-what? Why?" Martin asked.
"I...how much office gossip did you listen to at the institute?" Jon began.
"Um, some of it. I mean, the archives definitely, but keeping up with the library and their staff was exhausting after a while," Martin said. "And when I was working for Peter even less so. I think the last rumor I heard was about someone in Accounting...Greg, I think? Anyway, he--"
"I mean about me," Jon said. "Was there any gossip. About me."
"Yeah, but I think it was just about you being a prick and after that it was Tim trying to convince us that you and Basira were a thing," Martin said. Jon frowned in response. "But what does that have anything to do with talking about sex?"
Jon sighed miserably. "There was a tape, one that I listened to not long before the Unknowing. On it, Melanie and Basira were talking about your crush on me."
Martin's face was already the color of ripe strawberries. "W-well, cat's out of the bag...I suppose."
Jon gave him a sympathetic yet fond smile, which Martin returned. "I-I know it's not the most shocking revelation considering where we are now, but..."
"But?"
"You know I dated Georgie, right?" Jon asked. Martin blinked rapidly at the sudden change in topic.
"I...yes. I'm aware," Martin said. His voice was as diplomatic as he could make it. He wasn't sure if Jon knew about his conversation with Georgie after his return to the archives, but he didn't want to let on about his lingering feelings of resentment towards her after their conversation.
"Well, on the same tape, Melanie told Basira some information I thought Georgie would've kept to herself," Jon said. "I wasn't sure how far it'd gotten around."
"Jon, you're a little all over the place," Martin said. There was a slight wavering in his voice as he tried to stay calm. Jon cringed at the sound knowing he was the cause of Martin's confusion. He tried to return the forceful grip Martin had on his hands, but they were shaking more than he'd realized.
Deep breath.
"I'm...asexual," he said.
There was a pause, a moment of silence between them.
"Uh-huh," Martin said, nodding in agreement as he waited for more information.
"I'm asexual," Jon clarified.
"Yeah, I got that," Martin said.
"I typically don't find people sexually attractive," Jon further clarified.
"Yes, Jon, I'm aware," Martin responded.
"I have no desire for sex," Jon continued.
"Jon...I know," Martin said, squeezing his hands. "I understand your personal view of asexuality."
"And...you're okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Do you...like sex?"
Martin shrugged. "S'alright. I mean, it's been a while, but...yeah, it's fine."
"Do you want to have sex with me?" Jon asked.
Martin's eyes widened and the once fading blush returned full force. "Um, I...I mean, I'd be-be lying if I-I said I didn't th-think about it. Fantasize, I mean, but..."
"But?"
"Not if you didn't want to," Martin finished.
"What if I...never...wanted to?" Jon asked.
"Then we wouldn't," Martin said. "I'm - I'm not gonna force you, Jon."
"I wasn't implying that you would," Jon said, defensively.
"Then why--?"
"I know sex is important to some people," Jon said. "In many cases it's the deal-breaker and I...I didn't want to trap you in a relationship - in a cabin - with someone who couldn't give you what you wanted. You deserve that, Martin."
Martin let go of his hands, but before Jon could bolt away he'd already dragged the chair around so their knees were touching. Comfortable in his new position, Martin took Jon's hands again. This time, he brought Jon's fingers to his lips, peppering them with kisses.
"What about what you deserve, Jon?" he asked.
"I - I don't know," Jon said, "but I'm certain I don't deserve you. Not after everything I put you through."
"Well, thankfully, I get to make my own choices," Martin teased, "and I'd rather be with you then without you. Sex is negotiable. You aren't."
"Oh," Jon said, unable to hide the surprise he felt. "That's, um, that's...to be honest, no one's ever said that to me. Ever."
Martin smiled. "I wish that wasn't the case, but I'm glad to be the one to say it."
They leaned in close, relaxed in these moments of quiet where they could just be together. For the first time in a long time there were no rituals to stop or monsters breathing down their necks. It was just Martin and Jon. Together.
"So...crisis averted?" Martin asked.
Jon pressed a kiss to his lips, but when he pulled back there was still a hint of anxiety in his eyes.
"If - if I ever...wanted to have sex...would you--?"
"Jon, no, I'm not going to have sex with you if it makes you uncomfortable," Martin said, earnestly. "That's literally the last thing I'd ever want to do."
"No, Martin, just let me..." Jon said. Martin closed his mouth, but there was a warning in his eyes that nearly made Jon burst into tears and laughter. He loved him so much and he could see that love returned with the brightness of a thousand suns. "I may not desire sex, but I still...I still have urges every once and a while. And I...I have to admit that I'm curious about what it would be like...with you...sex, I mean."
Martin let out a huff of a chuckle. "Yes, Jon. I get it."
"So you'd be okay if I--"
"Wanted to have sex?"
Jon nodded. "There'd be rules, obviously."
"Obviously," Martin parroted. Jon narrowed his eyes.
"If either of us are uncomfortable, we stop. No questions. No fear of recrimination from the other," Jon said. Martin nodded. "We experiment and learn. We figure it out together. Like a - like a normal couple."
"Like a normal couple on the run from eldritch fear gods and avatars," Martin added. Jon swatted at his arm, but Martin grabbed it and used the momentum to pull Jon into his lap, another kiss shared between them.
"I'd rather be with you then without you, too," Jon said when they separated again. "And I never want you to doubt how I feel about you. About us."
"After everything we've been through I don't think that's possible," Martin said. His smile was warm and comforting. It was the promise of love and home. Jon looked forward to seeing that smile for a very long time.
"Still..." Jon said.
"Yeah..." Martin responded. "Does that mean we can stop talking about this?"
"I'd love nothing more."
"Good because I'm starving and the woman at the shop, Finella, gave me this recipe for Scotch broth that I really want to try," Martin said.
"I - I could help, if you want?" Jon offered. He didn't think it was possible for Martin to smile any brighter, but he was proven wrong.
"Yeah, I'd...I'd like that," Martin said.
The broth didn't come out exactly as Finella instructed, but it didn't matter. They were laid up on the couch, stomachs full, eyes heavy with sleep, and hearts beating in anticipation of another day together. It was perfect. It was theirs.
It was love.