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Martin had two jobs . He was used to it. From the age of 16 through 24 he'd worked two jobs, from the ages of 17 to 20 he'd also been a carer at the same time. So it wasn't like he couldn't manage. However, working both in a Tesco and a pub was a little different from being both an archival assistant, and a superhero.
Well, technically he wasn't a superhero, there was extra training and a certificate and things, which he didn't have time to do. It also involved hiring a sidekick, and he didn't have the time or money for that.
Either way, he didn't want to be fired from either his job as a (non-super) hero or as an assistant, and he was worried he was a tad bit fucked, and Jon was going to kill him.
He had been out getting a followup to a statement. It involved going to some public park in Croydon and walking around like a moron trying to see if any of the flower beds tried to eat him. So far so doable. However, the park happened to be being visited by the Mayor of London, and that brought trouble.
The Eye was a mysterious villain who had been collaborating with Solus lately and they had been causing havoc. Just as the Mayor had started his speech, Solus had appeared.
Solus had appeared with a hiss of air from nowhere, materialising above the constituents and journalists gathered already to hear the speech. He had said nothing – as always, The Eye was the chatty one – and started to conjure a massive storm.
Martin could see the dark figure of the tall man as he hovered in the sky. He gave a squeak of fright, before dropping his bag onto a flowerbed, and sprinting to the hide behind the ice cream stand that was closed for the season.
He ducked behind it and stuck his hand in his pocket, pushing aside bits of a broken pen and a boiled sweet to find… there it was. His medallion. It was barely larger than a fifty pence piece, though weighed heavily in his palm. It was cold, a brilliant silver, engraved with a stylised cloud. He gripped the medallion tight, and then threw it down to the ground beneath his feet.
His vision went white as it activated. He could feel the crackle of static all along his skin, and heard the blood rushing in his ears. All his muscles tensed as he felt his clothing shift around him, and he let out a small pained noise as he felt his body change, the power deep seated within him since birth being activated.
With the sound of rushing wind, it was over. Martin stood panting for a moment, his palms glowing bright white and his cable knit jumper replaced with a light armour over loose fitting combat trousers. His medallion sat proud in the centre of his chest piece. On the one hand he liked his armour, on the other, he always felt a bit exposed, it showed off far too much of his shape for his liking. Still, he didn't have time for this.
After a moment to acclimatise, he was brought back to the present by the sounds of panicked screeching, almost drowned out by Solus’ storm.
He held his arms to the side and pulled himself up into the sky on a gust of wind.
His power was not dissimilar to Solus’. The villain used the strength of a sea storm to drive people apart, and drown or trap them. Once, he had kept a whole town hostage for a week, before melting away like his storm was never there at all, no damp or mould to show the enormity of the walls of water.
Martin could harness the air and wind, and if he could just find the strength, he could blow all of Solus’ powers apart.
Usually, you don't know the names of heroes or villains, but he knew Solus. He was his uncle, Peter Lukas.
Bastard.
He still wasn't sure who The Eye was, and he couldn't leak Peter's identity without that. His machiavellian ally – or was it master – was a genius at mind control, and he would destroy Martin's life.
No one really knew Martin, he had done a few things, but not enough to get a public name, and he sure as hell wasn't going to write to a journalist and suggest one. So, as he battled with Solus above the park, with the sun blotted out by unnatural cloud, the people below didn't know who they were cheering for, or who was the man who saved them.
Martin, somehow, won. Solus – no, Peter – had grinned and said in his mild mannered way, “Well, til next time Martin.” Before he let himself dissolve on the breeze.
Afterwards, he managed to crash back to earth near where he'd left his bag. His outfit changed back to before and his powers seemed to snap back out of his reach, exhausted.
Martin groaned when he saw his bag was half buried in the flowerbed. Bloody thing does eat things then. With some tugging he managed to get it out, and stumbled blearily to the train. He had to take a train and a tube to get from Croydon to Chelsea, and Martin clutched his muddy bag to him as he tried to stay awake.
It was about half past five when he finally got back, and he was determined to finish his report and give it to Jon before he went home. He knew Jon was frustrated with him, but he was damn busy trying to keep tabs on his uncle's activities and his archive work was already tricky. He lamented his lack of A Levels, but he could hardly ask for help, or he'd be found out.
His whole body ached, and his left ear wasn't working properly, after a thunder clap had exploded close to his head. He felt so tired, always did after doing anything as a hero. In fact his whole head was throbbing awfully, and he felt disjointed as he sat in his lightly broken office chair.
But as he had thought, he was a tad bit fucked and Jon was going to kill him. He had just sat down, his bag absolutely trailing mud everywhere, and tried to make a start when the man himself had appeared.
Martin braced himself for shouting, but Jon had seemed concerned. “Martin, are you alright? Tim heard on the radio what was happening at the park. Did you get caught up in Solus and Aquilo's fight?” He looked quite cute when he was worried.
“Erm, a bit, I'll be fine. Wait - Aquillo?” He scrunched his nose up, apparently he had a name now. He should definitely get that certificate. But did he want a sidekick…
“Martin?” Jon's hand was on his shoulder now, and he was squinting worriedly into his face.
“Sorry, sorry.” Martin realised Jon had never touched him deliberately before, only ever absently brushed fingers when passing him a mug or a file. “Just a bit… out of it, I’spose Oh, and the flowerbeds do eat people!” and then Martin's vision went blurry and he had to stick his head between his knees.
Jon had been painfully awkward, made him awful tea, and once Martin felt well enough he sent him home. They didn't talk about it again.
It was three months after the fight in the park, and Martin had done some other bits and pieces, catching the attention of more journalists. It was a bit worrying that some had started to pin their hopes on ‘Aquilo’ to save them from Solus and The Eye. He quite liked the name actually, it meant North Wind.
Exactly two fights had been during work hours, and though Martin managed to hide just how awful he felt afterwards from Jon. He suspected Tim knew. Tim had some latent nature powers, and could have gone down the hero route if he wanted, but he quote-un-quote ‘couldn't be arsed’.
But Tim always seemed to sense when Martin had been out, and always got him tea and a biscuit and hid him from Jon or Elias for a few hours to recoup. It was… good. He was getting stronger with his powers and the quality of his archive work was slowly improving.
That was, until things went a little bit to shit. Martin had figured out who The Eye was. Peter had finally let something slip in one of their tussles, and Martin, feeling hazy and out of it, didn't really think things through when he went to go and confront The Eye in person.
Because The Eye was Elias Bouchard. His absolute prick of a boss was also an absolute prick of a supervillain. In his post-Aquilo fog he also felt very indignant that supervillains didn't need specific qualifications and superheros did. It honestly wasn't fair.
He stumbled past Rosie, who tried to stop him and burst into Elias’ office, accusing him before even registering Jon was also in the room.
Both men looked taken aback. Ah. Martin wasn't usually so hasty, and now his vision was going again and he could see Jon in duplicate. No no no no no.
“Hm. A shame it's come to this already. Apologies, for the de-…” Martin blacked out and crashed to the floor before Elias could even finish his smug sentence.
***
Jon had no idea what was happening. Well, he did, because Elias had treated himself to a quick villain monologue before trapping them in some sort of structure beneath the Archives, but what was happening was completely mental.
Martin, his Martin, incompetent and bumbling and sweet Martin, was Aquilo. He had thought the man had POTS or something, explaining his fatigue and occasional fainting spells, not being a superhero!
In his defence, it was a very large set of leaps from ‘My mildly inept archival assistant who occasionally takes too long on followups and feels unwell’ to ‘He must be a superhero who is tired out after getting in epic fights.’ So all in all, Jon didn't feel too guilty for not realising Martin's double life, but it was still bewildering. They had been spending more time together lately too, and he'd never mentioned anything like this.
He was also more pissed off with Elias than usual. The man had done something to his mind, forcing him to help carry Martin down to the tunnels and to what Elias called the Panopticon (it was definitely a secret lair). He had stopped him from struggling or escaping until the door was locked and Jon came back to himself with an unpleasant jolt.
For lack of anything else to do, he'd rolled Martin into the recovery position and walked around the small room they'd been locked in. The place looked old, all black painted iron and creaking struts, but screens and glass had been added. Their cell, for lack of a better word, was bare, with a glass wall allowing them to see everything below them yet do nothing.
“Jon?” Martin's voice was quiet, but Jon hurried back to his side and sank to his knees beside his friend.
“It's okay. We're both fine.” He said softly, pushing Martin's curls from his face.
“Elias?” He mumbled, eyes scrunching as he tried to rally himself.
“Ah. Well, we may be slightly trapped in his secret lair. I think he went to summon Solus, I'm not sure what they are going to do.” He broke off before he could say ‘to us.’ It made him wonder about Gertrude, had she died at her desk, or had she found Elias out? Damn.
Martin's face changed, hardened. He sat himself up, clinging onto Jon's shoulder for support. “Well then, we need to prepare.” He said grimly. He took in the cell, though looked less despondent than Jon felt.
“Martin – how… you're Aquilo?” Jon blurted out as Martin began dumping the contents of his pockets onto the dusty stone floor.
“Erm yep. Sorry for not, y'know mentioning it.”
“Oh well, secret identity, I get it.” He deadpanned. “How… how long have you been a superhero?” This was definitely a) a very personal question, and b) not a priority right now.
Martin shot him a withering look, “I'm not a superhero, not only do I not have A Levels, I don't have that qualification either.”
He seemed to not realise what he had said, and Jon didn't ask about this apparent deviation from his CV.
“And I found out when I was 16, but mum got really bad soon after so I didn't do much about it until I was twenty.” He paused in his searching, large hands patting through the general detritus as if it would make something appear.
“Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!” Martin grasped a handful of his hair as he stared at his collection of things. “My medallion isn't here – must've been in my jacket.”
Jon could see fear dancing in his eyes, he wasn't that fussed about heroes, but knew most needed something to help them transform into their powerful self.
“Martin, we can get out of this. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
Jon didn't sign up for death, doom and destruction when he applied for an archiving job, but he pleased himself by taking well to a crisis.
His and Martin's plan was sketchy at best. Martin would channel his powers as best he could in his human form. Then he'd blow out the glass keeping them trapped and take them to the Panopticon floor on a current of air.
They then planned to mess with any of Elias’ equipment, and possibly fight him when he showed back up.
Jon hadn't known what to expect from Martin's transformation, though he looked surprisingly similar. He was still himself, with his soft curls and kind face, but he stood a little taller and of course his palms glowed with power. The white light seemed to run through his veins in his arms, and possibly even up to his neck, flashing slightly at his pulse point.
Jon had huddled in a corner with his back to the window, and beneath the deafening cacophony of wind in the small space, he heard the grate of metal then the shattering of glass. The noise had abated for a moment, where Martin beckoned him over.
They had discussed this, but it didn't make it any less awkward, as Jon had to cling to Martin like a koala to stop him from falling to his death. It didn't make him feel any better about it though. Jon channelled all his British-ness as he smiled politely before putting his arms around Martin's neck and his legs over his hips. For a moment he tried to hold himself slightly away, but Martin shifted him in his grip, and Jon let his head curl into the space by Martin's neck. He was far stronger than he'd thought. But his jumper was as soft as he'd imagined it beneath his fingers, and his hair smelt of citrus.
He felt like a coward for it, but Jon pressed his eyes shut when Martin flew them down to the ground below. He wasn't afraid of heights per se, but they were around three floors up. They landed safely, and when Jon clambered down, Martin cleared his throat awkwardly before they began to search for, well, anything.
In the end they didn't find anything particularly useful. All of the computers were password protected, and Elias didn't have any weapons to speak of - hence why he used Solus as his source of muscle. It had been almost half an hour since they had been left there, and they both knew they were running out of time. There was no obvious way out, so they were trapped.
Martin stood up from where he'd been rummaging through a stack of papers and went to Jon, placing a hand on his shoulder. The other man looked up at him, and a surge of emotion pulsed through his chest. “Jon, I need you to be safe, so please hide and escape when they come in, you can call for help. But you've got to let me distract them.”
Jon's face went through several expressions before he nodded grimly. There were a set of arches near the door they'd been brought in through, and Jon started to head towards them.
Halfway there he paused and turned back. In a few confident strides he crossed back over to Martin and threw his arms around his neck. “Please be careful. Good assistants are hard to come by. Good friends even more so.” He pressed a kiss against his cheek, Martin could feel his lips were cracked and dry. He was too shocked to say anything back, and then Jon was hidden and he could hear approaching footsteps.
The next part happens pretty much how Martin expected, Elias treated himself to another monologue, Peter loomed behind him silently (though with a lot of fond glances to the shorter man), and then they attacked. Martin was prepared for all of this, he threw up a wall of wind between him and the two villains, snatching away any of Elias' powerful words before they had any effect. However, without his medallion his powers were harder to control, and Peter managed to get him into a stalemate.
Martin stood panting, the Panopticon was drenched in heavy rain, and water had risen to his ankles. In the struggle his winds had been spun off into a tornado that was now exhausting itself to nothing in the rafters.
In all the commotion he'd lost track of Jon, he prayed to a god he didn't believe in that he'd escaped alright. He didn't even care anymore if he'd called for help. It would probably be too late anyway.
Elias stepped forward slowly, with the air of a big cat on the final approach to its doomed prey. He looked rumpled and his dress shoes were definitely suffering in the water, but he was now more powerful.
Peter had worn himself out, he hung in a cloud of his own making, regathering his energy in case of a second round. No one in the room expected Martin to be able to fight again. He had used too much, if he used his powers again in his mortal body he might just rip himself apart.
“Now, Martin, you could survive this. Work as a sidekick to Peter - he has been asking for another pet. But then again, it would be oh so satisfying to put a stop to this now. You have been a thorn in my side for far too long now.”
“I'm not going to join you Elias.”
“Oh good. So, Martin, kneel.” The power of his voice filled his ears with static as Martin dropped to the ground. The water was frigid as it soaked through his corduroy trousers. The impact of his knees on the steel floor jolted through him and he grunted. At the sound Elias grinned and Martin felt sure he hated this man.
He stared into his old, cold eyes, daring him to finish what he started.
“I'm sorry it's worked out this way Martin, but it seems we have to let you go from the Institute.” The man smiled at his little joke, and opened his mouth to speak again - oh god he's going to talk me to death
Then he spotted Jon. He was throwing himself towards Elias, a broken pipe in his hand. He brought it down across the back of Elias' head and he crumpled to the ground.
Martin found himself now staring into Jon's face, he looked pale and shaken, but there was a look in his eyes, and he raised the pipe again.
“No!” Martin surged to his feet and grabbed Jon's wrist, his momentum carrying him forwards and their chests crashed together. They were almost nose to nose. “Thank you, but no.” Jon seemed to snap back to himself at the contact, and he let the pipe fall to the floor, sending up waves of water as it hit.
They stayed close together, and Martin suddenly felt overwhelmed with the desire to press a kiss to Jon's mouth. He stopped himself barely a centimeter away, and whispered against him “what happened to escaping?”
Jon smiled and finished what he'd started with a gentle and sweet kiss. “Like I said, good assistants are hard to come by.”
They fell into a hug and Martin let himself hold Jon close for a minute. Reluctantly they separated, and looked at the devastation around them. Elias had rolled to his back when he fell, luckily leaving his nose and mouth above the water line.
“What do we do?” Jon's voice was stricken. They wouldn't be in legal trouble necessarily, but this was such a mess and so nebulous and Elias was their boss for goodness sake…
“Let me take him.” Both men jumped when Peter spoke. He was standing in the centre of the floor, shifting slightly nervously under their gaze. “Let me take my husband home, and you keep your jobs. We can reach an agreement later, no need to destroy each other just now.” Martin nodded, and started to drag Jon away. They would get back up to ground level via the archives and this could all be fixed another time. He just wanted to rest now. Jon hesitated, as he was pulled away, he kept looking back.
From the stairs, he just managed to glimpse Peter scooping up Elias and holding him close to his chest, and the water swirling around them, and lifting them up on a column, towards the ceiling. They would leave another way, melt away from trouble like they were never there.
The tunnels were well lit, and finding their way back was easy enough, despite the steep incline and jagged turns.
“So they're married huh?” It was just something to say. Jon's adrenaline was waning, leaving him with a hollowed out exhaustion.
“Guess so. Makes sense I suppose, I always thought my uncle was too solitary to team up with just anyone.” Jon's steps faltered at the word uncle, he thought Martin had no real family. None that mattered. Then again, he supposed Peter didn't matter either if that was what he was like.
They walked in silence for a while longer, though Jon did reach forwards and lace his fingers together with Martin's. Just as they came to the exit Jon asked a final question.
“How do you feel about hiring a sidekick? I can't really make tea, but I am handy with a pipe”
Martin turned to look at him, and both men laughed hysterically as they hauled themselves back into Jon's office. This was a mess, but it wouldn't be so bad to clear it up.