Chapter Text
Dear Martin,
I think I like when it rains…
*****
Jon had been back in the archives for about two weeks after the attack by Jane Prentiss. He couldn’t focus, deciding that walking the streets of London would be better than falling into a spiral of paranoid thoughts. That’s how he found himself drenched, not realizing the weather had been calling for storms.
It was mid evening, the sun having set shortly before Jon had started walking. He had noticed the clouds in the sky, but ignored them, continuing to walk aimlessly. When the skys did finally open up, Jon realized he’d been walking for nearly an hour, and was nowhere near home, without an umbrella. He was soaked before he realized that he had walked himself to Martin’s flat. He stood outside the flat, looking around for a moment, not knowing whether to knock or keep walking. Before he could debate himself any more, Jon raised his hand and knocked. There was shuffling and a shout of “coming” before the door swung open.
There stood Martin, in his usual evening clothes. Jon looked him over, wet hair covering his face, beginning to shiver.
“S-Sorry, I don’t know how I got here,” Jon shivered, eyes wide and looking around, “I-I should go.”
“Whoa, Jon! Stop, come in. You’re drenched,” Martin worried, “You’ll catch your death!”
Martin moved aside to let Jon in, locking the door behind them. He placed a hand gently on Jon’s back and moved him deeper into the flat, going towards the kitchen. His first course of action was to make tea. Tea always made things better, and it would help warm Jon up. Jon, who was currently dripping wet in his kitchen and probably needed a change of clothes. Right. Clothes. Martin had those, some Jon could borrow.
“Alright. Why don’t I find you something to change into while the water boils,” Martin said, tapping his fingers together, “Uh pants may be a bit big, but it should work for the night! The bathrooms down the hall on the left.”
Jon stood and watched Martin as he skittered around, frozen in place. He shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t safe. He needed to go home.
Jon jumped when Martin placed a soft hand on his shoulder, looking up at the soft faced man with wide, scared eyes.
“Hey. You’re alright,” Martin reassured, “here. Clothes and a towel. Bathrooms down the hall on the left. Take your time, I’ll finish the tea… Have you eaten recently?”
Jon took the pile of linens from Martin, looking up again at him a bit more calm. Right. This was okay. Martin was safe. Martin had bandaged his hand after Jude Perry and cleaned his neck after Daisy.
Martin. Was. Safe.
“I-I don’t think so,” Jon admitted hesitantly, “I can’t remember the last time I ate, if I’m honest.”
“Okay then,” Martin smiled softly, “I’ll order some take away. Pizza, that way it won’t take long to get here. You go do what you need, I’ll order a pizza.”
Jon took a moment, looking over Martin, before nodding and walking off to the bathroom. Once alone again, he put things down on the vanity counter and took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, realizing just how bad he was shivering.
Jon slowly peeled his wet clothes off, using the provided towel to dry off a bit before getting dressed again. Once changed, he focused on his hair a bit. He normally used a cotton shirt to dry his hair, knowing it helped maintain some sort of pattern to his unruly curls, but the towel that smelt of Martin’s lavender laundry soap would do for now. Jon took his time, drying his hair then running his fingers through it, using a hair tie he kept on his wrist to tie it up into a low pony once he was pleased.
By the time all was said and done, the pizza had been delivered. Martin had plates and drinks set up in the living room on the coffee table when Jon finally revealed himself from the bathroom. Martin smiled warmly at Jon, wearing a too large shirt that had a cow drawn on it.
“Well. Come on then,” Martin insisted, waving to the open spot on the couch, “Pizzas warm, tea might be getting a little cool, but I can always make more.”
Jon chewed his cheek, but relented, joining Martin on the couch. The evening's long adventure was finally catching up with him, causing him to limp slightly as he made his way over. He grimaced a bit at the pain, plopping himself into the cushions, sighing.
“Thank you, Martin,” he began, pulling a bit at his ponytail, “I appreciate your kindness tonight… really, your kindness as of ever. You just, are always kind aren’t you? You care so much about everyone, Tim and Sasha. I really hope I’m not putting you out too much..”
Martin sighed softly, reaching over to take Jon’s hand from his hair and holding it softly, “Of course I care. Someone needs to, you don’t take care of yourself sometimes. If I’m not there to shove some tea and biscuits in you, who will? And this? I’m happy to help. Can’t let you wander ‘round London on that bum leg of yours.”
Jon scoffed but squeezed Martin’s hand, a small smile pulling at his lips. Outside, the rain fell harshly against the windows of the flat, and a loud clap of thunder rattled the panes. Jon looked over at the window, a bit bewildered at just how much the storm had picked up.
“Grab a slice of pizza,” Martin urged, “I’m just gonna grab some candles and my laptop in case the lights go out. I’ll be back in a jiff, promise.”
Jon hummed, squeezing Martin’s hand one last time before moving to grab the mug of tea that had been made for him, taking a long sip. The tea had gone lukewarm, but still brought Jon the comfort of knowing that only Martin could make tea taste just this way. Once Martin had moved from the couch, and Jon had drank half his tea, he finally reached for the pizza. Jon felt bad, not waiting for Martin, but his body was now realizing just how starved it was.
By the time Martin returned, Jon had just started his first slice, his good leg pulled to his chest to rest the plate on. Martin chuckled looking at Jon, but set candles out on the table, his laptop centered in front of the pizza box. Just as he finished setting up, the lights flickered before the flat went dark.
When the lights flicked off, Jon jumped, squeaking in surprise and a little bit of fear. He looked to Martin, eyes wide, as his plate nearly fell to the floor. Martin grabbed the lighter he set down and lit the candles before settling back into the couch, reaching to grab Jon’s plate. He put it to the side for a moment before grabbing both of Jon’s hands.
“Hey, you’re okay,” Martin promised, voice soft, “Look at me. The lights will come back on soon, it's just the storm. We’ll watch a movie, eat pizza, and you can spend the night here. I won’t let you get hurt while you’re here, okay?”
Jon sniffled, not realizing he had started lightly crying, and nodded. Martin released one of his hands, and he went about wiping his eyes dry. After a moment of calming down, Jon repositioned himself, sitting a bit closer to Martin, nearly leaning on him.
While Jon got situated, Martin took a moment to start up the movie, skipping the DVD’s short commercials and getting straight to the menu. It was one of his favorite Studio Ghibli movies, Howl’s Moving Castle. Martin said as much as it started. He had always enjoyed the art style and music of the Ghibli films.
As the movie played and the pair finished eating, Jon ended up curled up next to Martin, drifting to sleep. By the time the credits were rolling, Jon’s head was snug in Martin’s lap, and he was fast asleep. As much as Martin wanted to let him sleep, he knew Jon would be sore in the morning if he was left on the couch, plus he would be trapped there. Not a good place for either of them.
Gently, Martin pushed some stray hairs from Jon’s face, saying his name softly to try and rouse him.
“Jon, come on, let's go lay in my bed,” he suggested, poking Jon’s cheek softly, “We can share tonight.”
Jon groaned, peeking an eye open, before sitting up. He rubbed harshly at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew, “I can sleep on the couch. I don’t mind.”
At that, Martin scoffed, “Yeah, ‘cause I’m going to let you, with a bum leg and god knows what else, get a crick in your neck. Come on. The bed’s a queen, big enough for two comfortably. I don’t mind if you don’t.”
Jon thought about it for a moment, “No. Put on another movie. I’m comfortable here for now.”
Martin chuckled, rucking a hand through Jon’s hair gently, “I can’t put another movie on, that was a DVD, and the power still out. We can stay here for another few minutes, but then we should go to bed. Your back is going to hurt in the morning if we don’t.”
Jon stretched and settled back down, closing his eyes again. Martin continued to play with his hair for a moment before grabbing his phone, putting on some music for some background noise.
“Hope you don’t mind music,” he soothed , “even with the storm, it feels too quiet.”
Jon hummed, having to shift slightly to cover a yawn, “No, it’s nice. Is this The Beatles?”
“Yeah,” Martin chuckled, taking a piece of Jon’s hair and twirling it, “I like them a bit. It’s good music just for the background, ya know.”
They settled into a comfortable, semi-silence. The music covering for the lack of conservation, Martin traced gently over Jon’s tattoos, the eye on the back of his neck peeking out. A shiver went down Jon’s neck as he did, causing him to huff a little. Martin moved onto a different spot, the oversized jumper slipping down Jon’s shoulder to expose one of the small cat tattoos on his shoulder.
”Do you just have a load of cat tattoos on your arm,” Martin asked, breaking the silence.
”Mmm, maybe. Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jon teased back, smirking, “I do have quite a few, yes. A few cats, the eye, more. You’ll have to take me to dinner first before seeing them all.”
Jon was not a flirt. Not normally, but he was tired, and comfortable with Martin at the moment. He felt safe enough that he could flirt without harm. However, he did not expect for Martin to flirt back, quickly quipping back, “Might just have to then… For now though, we should go to bed. My boss will be very untoward if I am late for work in the morning.”
”Oh now we wouldn’t want that,” Jon ribbed, finally sitting up again, “Fine fine. I will simply have to fight your boss. Now, what are we doing about sleeping arrangements? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or put out by my being here..”
”Come on,” Martin stood, holding a hand out for Jon to take, “My bed is big enough for two. After Prentiss, Tim came for a sleep over once or twice, I swear I don’t mind sharing.”
Jon hesitantly took the offered hand, standing carefully. He followed along to the bedroom, watching as Martin pulled back the covers and waved for him to join. The two crawled into the bed together, facing one another as they settled in. Jon couldn’t help but smile as he looked over Martin’s face, biting his lip in thought.
He never had a chance to really look at Martin before. He knew Martin was handsome, with freckles that spattered his cheeks like stars, a smile that made his heart skip a beat. But this close, he could follow the freckles with his eyes, and he could really appreciate the beauty that was Martin Blackwood. And later, Jon would blame his sleep addled brain, but he reached up, gently caressing Martin’s cheek, asking, “Martin. May I kiss you?”
For Martin’s part, once Jon had asked the question, his brain stopped working. He was lost in Jon’s eyes. Once the question finally registered, and he realized Jon was serious, he didn’t answer with words, simply leaning closer and closing the space between them.
Martin’s hand found its way to Jons waist, pulling him closer. He could feel himself smiling a little, the giddy feeling sending warmth through his body. The kiss was tender and familiar, though this was their first.
When they finally pulled away from each other, Martin chuckled nervously, watching as Jon licked his lip.
“Okay,” Martin asked, feeling a bit silly.
“Yes, Martin. Quiet,” Jon hummed, running his tongue piercing over his teeth, “I think we should sleep now. Talk in the morning?”
“Fine by me.”
With it all situated, Jon pulled himself closer to Martin, settling in for a night of cuddling.