#obligatory 'they're not related in any way and one is a Martian' PSA lmao

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '20 Prompt No. 5 — "Unacceptable, try again."

Category: Fanfic Fandom: My Favorite Martian (1963–1966) Rating: PG Timeline: anytime after season 1 CW: none Word Count: 1,172 Additional Notes: Wanted to use the moment in Thriving: Rebirth canon where this quote is used, but I couldn't, so I decided to make one up for a fanfic of the show that serves as the series' biggest inspiration instead.

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PART I

Tim and Martin stood at opposite ends of the sliding door at the front of the apartment, watching the rain lashing against the glass, cradling the last of the expensive wine leftover from dinner. A gift from one of Tim's coworkers—almost too good to open, according to him, since he could never afford to indulge so much himself.

They'd marveled over the weather for a bit, as it hadn't rained in Los Angeles for several months prior and they couldn't hear the end of it from Mrs. Brown about how her petunias wilted worse day by day.

Interrupting their pensive moment, Tim cleared his throat. "You know…I've just realized that we've had a very peaceful month."

Martin, in the midst of draining the final dregs of his wine, turned to him with raised eyebrows. "Have we?"

"Yeah." Tim smiled out the window. "At least, I have. My editor has been great, I've been blessed with an abundance of wealth—as far as stories for the paper go, anyway—it's raining for the first time in ages, and things at home have been…real good." He glanced at Martin. "Haven't they?"

"Real good," Martin echoed. "‘Great,' I could even say. I'm having far more progress repairing my spaceship than I ever have the entire time I've been on Earth."

Trying to ignore the sudden squeeze at the center of his chest, Tim's smile widened and he too finished his wine. "That is great. That's…that's great."

Martin turned to start clearing the dishes from the table. "Dinner was delicious, by the way; I don't think I mentioned that yet. Your pot roast is beginning to rival Mrs. Brown's!"

Tim continued to watch the rain, the mild flooding on the main road and the surging river guided by the curb. The comfort of a good month had begun to fold gently within the overwhelming sadness of a creeping end. For a moment he pretended the spaceship in the garage was gone and the sound of other footsteps around the apartment had disappeared. He pictured the space behind him empty, devoid of Martin's possessions, robbed of another person.

"How have things been going with Debbie?" Martin asked from the kitchen. The sound of clinking plates and running water accompanied his voice. "I don't think you've taken her out in a while, have you?"

"…Debbie?"

"The girl you met while you were pursuing the Bridge Street jewelry store robbery. You took her out once and then you never really talked about her again."

Tim ran the rim of his glass against his lip, the contentedness he felt moments ago melting from his posture to puddle around his feet. "Uh…I haven't seen her in a few weeks."

"Why? She seemed to like you a lot."

Tim didn't answer for a while and the silence only disturbed by dishes being washed and rain against the roof inflated to fill the entire living room. It crushed Tim's ribs, ground into his stomach, and threatened to seep through the walls.

The idea of alone was something Tim could no longer understand. It used to be so simple, so normal to find solace in watching television by himself or going out to dinner with a beautiful woman or sleeping until two in the afternoon on a weekend. But now, the thought of waking up to nothing was almost too much to bear.

"Tim?"

He turned to see Martin in the middle of the room, and it hit him like a sledgehammer that he'd read his mind. "I, uh…well…we just didn't click, that's all."

But it was too late. Martin resumed drying his hands with the towel he held and gained a faraway look, his gaze shifting back to the window. "I'm not looking forward to leaving, either."

"Then why?" Tim set his glass on the table, unsure where this sudden confidence came from but knowing it had to be said. "Why leave at all? You've got a roof over your head and you're fed every day..."

"Mars is my home." Martin's tone softened significantly, laced with regret. "I couldn't ask you to stay anywhere you didn't belong."

Tim clenched his jaw. "I'm doing that already."

Martin's attention snapped to him, a knit forming between his brows. "…What do you mean?"

"I…the thought of..." Tim took to carefully pacing the room and turned his class ring absently on his finger. "It's nothing."

"Unacceptable. Try again."

"Well you read my mind already, didn't you? Just…read it again!"

"I'm aware that you're not happy about the fact that I could be leaving any day. I've always known that." Martin tossed the towel onto the coffee table. "It became clear very early on that the idea of me going back to Mars is distressing to you."

Tim perched on his desk, arms folded tight over his chest. "And what, exactly, gave that away?"

"The immeasurable joy that you didn't bother to hide when I almost broke every bone in my body trying to leave the first time."

Tim's cheeks flushed and he swallowed. "That's…not exactly what happened..."

"Tim, I know how you feel—"

"I don't think you do."

Another silence, this time sticky and urgent, coated the floor like rubber cement. Martin regarded Tim with far less surprise than was expected, but it existed nonetheless, and it closed Tim's throat with excessive force.

"Where am I," Tim said softly, jabbing a finger into his own chest before extending it toward Martin, "without you?"

Martin didn't respond.

As reality crumbled around him, Tim continued on. "Have you met any of my friends?"

"No—"

"Because there aren't any. There are colleagues. But there are no friends. I can't keep a girl with me. I don't…I don't want to keep a girl with me. I am the best version of myself…with you." Tim startled at his own words and the feeling of heat prickling at his eyes but he couldn't stop the humorless laugh bubbling out of him. "I don't even know who I am anymore! What am I supposed to do after you leave, Martin?"

The lack of "Uncle" before his name dropped like a brick at Martin's feet.

"You're supposed to keep going," he murmured. "I can always come back."

"Sure." Tim took a breath to gain control of his emotions once again and to calm the nerves that made his hidden hands shake. "I know."

The rain came down harder, making it impossible to see out of the window through the deluge.

The phone rang, causing Tim to jump before he answered it. "Yeah…hello?" He held the receiver between his ear and his shoulder and he rubbed his palms over his face. "…Right, Mr. Benson. I'll be there." He dropped the phone on the cradle and exhaled. "I have to go. There's been a mudslide downtown."

"Tim, we really need to talk about what happened here."

Tim fixed his tie and grabbed his jacket and an umbrella from the closet. "I know. Just…not now."

Martin stood rooted to the spot far after the front door slammed closed behind Tim.

#fp2 #fanfic #repost #obligatory 'they're not related in any way and one is a Martian' PSA lmao