#come out from the mist peter lukas i want to angst about you and the terrible eye man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inklingofadream · 3 years

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“I love you. Of course I’m gonna defend you like that.” + Jonmartin. if you like. please and thank u. i love your writing. :)))

Some fluff to go with the angst from earlier :)

“And Jon hasn’t… you know. Has he?”

Martin sighs and rubs the back of his head. Talking to people besides Jon still made his skin squirm, but he’d volunteered to be the one to call Basira and let her know they’d arrived alright. “No. He hasn’t.” He could leave it at that, but he doesn’t want to- he can feel the wave of guilt and self-recrimination coming off Jon from the tiny sitting room behind him; he thinks his hearing’s been better since he came back from the dead. Either way, he definitely heard Basira. “He’s not some out of control animal, Basira. He needs help sometimes, but he’s doing his best.”

“Right.” She sounds dubious, but also like she doesn’t want to argue. Martin generously put it down to his persuasion skills, and not the tension she’s carried since Daisy vanished into the Hunt.

“Right. Thank you for sending on those statements. I’ll call again when we get them. Good luck.” He hangs up without waiting for a response; he can still feel the isolation wrapping itself around Jon’s bones. Jon needs him more than Basira needs his politeness.

He sits down on the ratty sofa next to Jon, and puts an arm around his shoulder. The action feels daring, risky, and not only because of the dregs of the Lonely clinging to them both. Jon stays stiff, doesn’t lean into the touch, but Martin doesn’t let that make him pull away. Jon’s eyes are on his lap. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What, defend my-” the sentence judders to a halt; he doesn’t quite know what they are to each other.

Jon scoffs in his self-deprecating way, the way Martin had nearly jumped out of his skin to hear the first time it had come from his stuck up boss in his presence. “Not like that, anyway. She’s right to worry. I’m not less dangerous because you wish it was different, Martin. You don’t owe me anything, least of all the benefit of the doubt.”

“I love you. Of course I’m gonna defend you like that.” The first bit he hadn’t quite meant to say (he’s too much he’s made him uncomfortable what if Jon leaves what if he’s alone again) but there’s not much he can do besides push on. And he really can’t pull his arm away now. “And you do deserve it. You were… in a bad place. And I’m not saying that you weren’t in the wrong, but…” how can he encapsulate all he feels about Jon, all the kindness and desperate effort he knows the other man denies possessing? “You’re trying your best. I really do believe that. I mean, you haven’t taken any live statements since the intervention!”

He’s kept his gaze fixed forward, but he turns in time to see Jon’s blush (he’s blushing) fade as he goes pale. “Yes I have.”

Martin’s stomach sinks. “When.”

Jon shrinks in on himself, even though Martin tried to keep his voice as calm and even as he could. “Peter Lukas.”

The tension leaves him all at once. Right, Peter. “Oh. Well that doesn’t count.”

Jon blinks at him, goggle eyed. “Of course it counts! I- I fed on him, after I said I’d stop!”

“I mean, not really though.” Martin can’t hide how relieved and happy he is, that it’s only this. “I mean, it’s not murder if it’s in self defense, right?”

Jon laughs bitterly. “Glad to know you don’t consider it murder.”

There’s something else there. “...Jon?”

“I killed him Martin! Do you realize that? I asked and when he didn’t answer he-” his breath hitches, eyes wide at the memory of something terrible.

“Oh, Jon.” Martin pulls him in closer despite the rigid line of his spine, and hopes it’s the right thing to do. He hadn’t realized… well, he’d known Peter was dead, on an intellectual level, and that Jon was responsible. Even felt the comfort of knowing he wouldn’t be back on an emotional one. But he hadn’t really given thought to what it had looked like, whatever had or hadn’t been left already dissolved into the mist by the time he might have seen. He hadn’t considered how Jon had felt about it. He used to be so good at that, considering other people’s feelings, but the prickling void inside him (less empty than it had been but still gaping) seemed to have taken his knowledge that other people felt things as he himself felt them less and less.

He takes a deep breath, unsure of what he needs to say. “If you hadn’t done it, he wouldn’t have let you find me. Is it… is it really so bad, for the world to have one less monster in it, instead of one less incompetent archival assistant?”

“You’re not incompetent.”

Martin chuffs a laugh. “Thanks. Kind of not the point, though.”

“I-” Jon’s breath shakes, and he sounds like the admission is being torn from him. Martin would feel guilty, but he thinks Jon’s the one doing the tearing, that it’s as much for himself as Martin. “I’d rather have you.”

“Then you made the right choice.” Jon looks like he wants to retort, to say it isn’t that simple, so Martin doesn’t give him the chance. “I know it’s not always that easy. But can it be simple just this once?” There’s something raw and doubtful in his voice, the bit of him that still says it would be better if he just diappeared.

Jon softens. “Of course you were the right choice, Martin. I just-”

“I don’t think it’s like- like alcohol or anything,” Martin cuts in before Jon can start guilt tripping himself again. “I don’t think you really ‘fell off the wagon’ as it were. It’s more like… you decided to be vegetarian for ethical reasons. And you made an exception for Peter. I don’t think...” he knows this will hurt Jon, but he also thinks it needs to be said, “I don’t think you can go off of them, any more. I mean, I wasn’t around for Daisy, any of that, but I saw her, a bit. She wasn’t going through withdrawal, Jon. She was starving. I don’t want that to be you.”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Jon’s hands are balled into fists, barely restrained from tearing at his hair. “Why shouldn’t I starve, if not doing it means I hurt people?”

“I mean. Even if you were vegetarian, you wouldn’t put your cat on a vegetarian diet. Because it’s built different. And you wouldn’t blame the cat for needing meat to live, it was made that way.”

“You’re mixing your metaphors,” Jon grouses. Martin gives him a squeeze. “And the cat didn’t choose to be made that way.”

“Did you?” He honestly doesn’t know; he wasn’t there, all he can do is hope he can convince Jon not to hate himself, whatever the answer is.

“I chose Beholding.”

“And you got full details on what that entailed before you chose it, did you?”

Jon knows Martin knows he didn’t; if the Archivist had come with instructions they would have appeared long before that. “I chose to live.”

Martin shifts a little so that Jon’s almost in his lap, affecting self satisfaction into the movement as much as he can, exaggerating his confidence in what he’s saying. “You chose to live, you chose to make sure I lived, we’re alive. We’re alive and that’s good.” He says it forcefully over Jon’s doubtful little frown. “We’re alive, and so now we just do the best with what we’re given, even if it’s not ideal.”

Jon’s face goes through a few different frowns and grimaces before he realizes there’s not much he can say to that without also implying it’s bad that Martin’s alive. Finally, he leans back, just a bit, into Martin’s chest.

“Did you mean it?” Jon says after several minutes of mostly-comfortable silence. “When you- er- said you love me?” He voice gets smaller and smaller with ever word, face lighting up in a blush like Martin’s never seen on him.

Martin’s blushing himself, though Jon can’t see with his back to him. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, I did. If that’s alright. You don’t have to say anything back!”

Jon wriggles and turns in Martin’s lap. “Hm. Can I kiss you?”

“Um!” Martin must look like a deer in headlights, not entirely sure he hadn’t fallen asleep and started dreaming at some point. Not that his dreams have been anything like this pleasant since he started working with Peter. “Ok?”

Jon grins. “Great!” They both chuckle at the awkward, eager words.

They lean into each other, then, eyes closed, and are, for a moment, really just happy and alive.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #scottish safe house #prompts #asks #ink writing #my fic #mine #Anonymous

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