recordingends | Open Post

Jon thinks they can at least get a few BBC channels, though he won't hold his breath for much else. He leaves the table and brings his mug with him. There's no remote that he can find so he fusses with it by hand until he finds something vaguely promising. And all that vaguely promising means is that it's not a news cast.

He settles onto the very plaid couch with his tea and waits for Martin.

Dishes washed and put away, Martin brings his tea to the living room, thankful that Jon isn't watching the news. That's the last thing they need, isn't it? To watch the news and wonder what would come up.

"So, what's on?" He asks as he takes a seat next to him, setting his tea on the side table.

"Old episode of Midsomer Murders?" he takes a guess as Martin joins him. As the cushions shift, Jon lets himself drift with gravity until he's leaning against Martin's side. Hope you weren't expecting too much personal space, Martin.

"Downton Abbey? I honestly haven't been paying attention."

Something dramatic and vaguely period.

"Downton Abbey is a poor mans Upstairs, Downstairs." He mutters as he wraps his arm around Jon's shoulder.

Oh. Oh, wait a minute. Is that Alfred Harris? He blinks, surprised that they are even showing Upstairs Downstairs. Maybe it's because they are in the countryside or maybe BBC has decided that this time of day is just perfect for old television shows.

"It's Upstairs Downstairs, actually." He sounds absolutely pleased at it. "It aired in the 70's. Mum had them on VHS."

"I can't say I've ever actually watched either," he admits as Martin's arm wraps around him. Maybe his grandmother watched? Jon never paid attention. He tips his tea and watches the screen a bit more intently, since apparently Martin has opinions.

"Is there actually a difference? Still the same structure, basically."

Servants downstairs, aristocracy upstairs, human drama and so on.

"I always thought that Upstairs Downstairs was more... realistic? Less dramatized because of the time era it took place in. They had an entire arch revolving around some of the Upstairs perishing during the sinking of the Titanic."

Sure there's a similar structure but Downton Abbey seemed more.. modern dramatic? Felt like it was stretching to the fantastical but maybe he's just nostalgic of sitting in the living room watching old tapes of the show when he was allowed.

The days he was allowed to just do things and be a kid.

Jon can't decide if he finds the hair-splitting asinine or charming. But it seems to mean a lot to Martin and so he manages to refrain from saying anything out loud. He learns slowly, but he is learning. Or trying to.

"You watched this as a child?" he remarks after a moment. "No wonder your poetry reads like Keats."

Which would suggest Jon's read some of Martin's poetry.

... Oops.

"Well yes! I wasn't really allowed to use the tellie that much!" He audibly gasps. "Should I be offended or excited you just compare--- wait."

Wait!!!

"Do...have you read my poetry?"

Jon. Explain!

Too late to take it back now. Jon has the decency to look somewhat sheepish, maybe even contrite, as he sits up a little.

"Well you were living in the archives for a long time and I--"

Was paranoid that somehow Martin was a mastermind of evil. Was concerned that Martin might somehow be plotting against him.

"Went through the trash now and then."

"Now and then, huh?" He quirks a brow, unable to keep himself from grinning.

Well, it makes sense that he went through his trash. Was he going through everyone's trash? After sort of stalking them at their apartments... oh Jon. Jon, you poor paranoid fool. He adores you.

Time for some minor teasing.

"Glad I only threw away the general poetry I wasn't happy with."

And not the love poetry that he shoved into his desk in embarrassment.

Right. Jon has absolutely never gone through Martin's desk. Not more than two or three times, anyway.

"Well there was a whole notebook in there at some point," Jon says as he carefully, almost tentatively, leans against Martin again. Apparently he is forgiven for his paranoid transgression of some years ago.

"Oh, I remember that."

The notebook... he should have thrown that away somewhere else but-- oh. Oh no, there were love poems in there! Oh god. It's fine. Deep breaths, Martin, it's not like they were that common right?

Right? Just his desk?

"Did... you enjoy them at least?"

"I've not read a lot of poetry," he says rather than answering straight away. It isn't even that much of a lie: he read what he had to in uni, but he's never really pursued poetry outside of literature courses.

"They... sounded nice."

Martin had an ear for rhymes, at least, something that made the reader hop from line to line in an unbroken gait. It made for nice reading, at least, which Jon supposes means he enjoyed them. Or maybe he'd just been surprised that Martin might be good at anything at all.

"R-Really?"

He hadn't really expected a straightforward answer like that-- even with the early explanation of his history with poetry. Martin turns away, embarrassed, blushing because really, no one's told him that his poetry sounded nice.

"I'm glad." A pause. "I read some while you were in ...the weird coma. I didn't know if it'd work but... I thought well... I thought it couldn't hurt."

But it did hurt. A lot. More than he had anticipated and not because of some romantic notion that it would bring him back but reciting them to Jon thinking he wasn't coming back... he likely never heard them.

"Did you really?" Jon looks up at Martin. "How--how often were you there?"

Jon has no idea who came and went, only that he was trapped in nightmares for, what, six months? Christ, half a year gone. He knows the fact that he woke up at all is less of a miracle and more due to his choice to become fully what he is, but--but he'd wanted to come back. He hadn't wanted to just slip away and die.

"A lot. I lost track of time."

Some of it was because who else would sit by him? Who else would wonder if he was going to wake up? He didn't know if he had any remaining family, and between Jon and his mother... he felt helpless. Maybe that's why it was so easy to pull away once he made his choice.

"I was in the hospital a lot." He admits quietly. "I only stopped going when...well. You know the rest."

Jon sets his tea aside and shifts so that he can face Martin more. His scarred hand cradles Martin's face just to make the other man look at him. He wishes he could remember, hates that there is six months of his life that are just gone. And that Martin was there for so much of it.

"Thank you," he murmurs. Maybe he hadn't known at the time that there was someone who cared if he lived or died, but he knows now.

"You... you don't have to thank me for that, Jon." He smiles, relaxing into his hand. "It was the least I could do."

The least anyone could do. How could anyone not? Everyone left visited once in a while but he couldn't... he felt like he never left the hospital. He probably didn't, because he's pretty sure (everything was a blur) that his mother was brought to the same hospital. He just walked back and forth between rooms, mentally exhausted and ready to just--

It wasn't like that anymore.

"You shouldn't have to be alone through that." He leans forward and kisses his forehead.

Jon closes his eyes as Martin's lips press to his brow and he moves a bit closer, as much as he can.

"I hope you weren't."

He could know, but he's trying not to. His fingers brush over Martin's cheek and, after a moment, Jon tips his head up to give him a proper kiss. It still feels... very nice.

It still nearly takes him by surprise, cutting off his attempt to respond with a pleasant hum. Martin smiles against his lips, returning the kiss, eyes closing because this was much more tender than when they were in the bedroom. Truth about everything they were, everything that happened, everything that could be on the table for them to discuss and it's-- it's a wonderful feeling.

Jon feels his face get warm and his breath catches quietly. His hand slides to the back of Martin's neck and insinuates himself a bit closer. This is nice. It feels nice enough that he wants to keep doing it. He hasn't even thought of kissing anyone in ages, not since Georgie really.

But kissing Martin now... he thinks he could do more of this.

Martin is cautious, careful as he moves his hands to circle his waist. This was (wonderful, amazing, perfect) nice. Something he didn't think he'd have a chance for and his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

He doesn't want to push too far, but doesn't want to not do enough -- is it weird to be thinking about how you balance something as silly as kissing? Kissing Jon was like a million fireworks going off, like the perfect cup of tea, like... like

Like everything.

Jon gets briefly distracted by the new sensation of Martin's hands on his waist. He breaks the kiss just enough to breathe and he feels warm and quietly flustered. He's still holding on to Martin and he realizes, rather belatedly, that he has one hand curled the front of Martin's sweater.

He swallows thickly and he wonders if he should say anything, if it would be proper to say something. God, how had he done this before?

(Awkwardly, and with little real success. As he recalls, Georgie kissed him.)

"Jon?" He's quiet, chewing on his lip. "Are you all right?"

He's not normally this nervous kissing someone! Though, he thinks to himself, when was the last time he actually kissed someone? Oh god. Was he moving too fast? No, no he steadies himself. That's what communication was for and they were adult men. They could do this.

But it has been quite some time since he dated someone, or bothered to anyway. He's gentle as he holds his waist carefully and kisses him again.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes, of course."

Bold of Martin to assume that communication is something Jon can handle. He's never really communicated about this before, only passive-aggressively did what he was going to do and let Georgie come to her own conclusions. That wasn't very fair of him, he knows that, but she'd also never pushed him after a point.

What will Martin think? Will he be disappointed or just cheerily cover it up like he does?

Jon tries to come back from the wash of self-reflection that he isn't prepared to have right now. It's just kissing.

"This is okay."

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