Chapter Text
Martin wakes feeling… Well, sore mostly. Everything still aches, and it’s harder to ignore paired with the grogginess of having just woken up. The sun, in all its cruelty, shines through the paper-thin curtains and directly onto his face. Jon, facing away from the window, is somewhat spared from this. Enough that he seems undisturbed for the time being. Still, enough of the golden light reaches Jon that a flurry of potential poetry lines floods his mind in an attempt to put the sight into words. Oh, and what a sight he is.
His hair, usually so dark as to appear black, has more of a deep chocolatey brown to it now, and the strands of silver shimmer as the light hits them.
His face is relaxed in a way Martin doesn’t think he’d ever seen. The shadows under his eyes seem just a shade lighter, and his features are no longer firmly schooled into a mask of professionalism. Even at his most relaxed, Jon never seems to truly let go of all the tension constantly building inside of him. But here, he truly seems at peace.
His lips are parted just so, enough to give Martin a glimpse of the gap between his teeth. He still finds it as endearing as the first night he saw it, when Jon had smiled so freely on that night at the pub with Tim and Sasha. He hopes to see that smile again too. His stomach swoops at the knowledge that he likely will.
Jon sleepily mumbles something, then proceeds to shove his face against Martin’s chest in an attempt to block out the sunlight. It’s an action Martin is certain Jon would be just a bit too self-conscious to take if he was properly awake. Jon had still clearly been less than confident that Martin even wanted to share a bed with him just the night before, it’s safe to assume Jon hasn’t completely changed how he feels about ensuring Martin is okay with the pace at which things are advancing. Martin has no complaints though, so Jon needn’t worry.
Later, when the sun has made itself enough of a nuisance that Jon can no longer block it out, the two of them will crawl out of bed, Martin incredibly sore and Jon still tired. Martin will learn that Jon, in fact, is not a morning person, contrary to what he thought. Jon will make a breakfast that Martin insists on helping him with, and Jon will usher him back to the table and tell him to sit, because he needs to relax so he can recover. Martin will laugh, because he doubts cooking is going to wear him out that much. But he’ll relent, because Jon’s adorable little wrinkles between his eyebrows when he’s concerned are too much for Martin to handle.
That will all be later. Now, Martin takes a deep breath, and he lets himself take this all in.
It feels like it’s taking an eternity for all the pain and weakness to go away.
“The flowers did a lot of damage, Martin,” Jon reminds him over lunch. “They weren’t just suffocating you, they were sapping your energy so they could grow. That’s not something you can recover from in a little over a week. Not to mention it took you four days just to be well enough to gain consciousness.”
Martin sighs. “I know…” He hates it, but Jon is right. That doesn’t make it less annoying though.
“I know it’s frustrating, but you’re going to have to be patient. Besides,” Jon smiles. “You’ve made remarkable improvements recently. You are getting better. You’re just going to have to wait a bit longer.”
Martin gives another sigh, though a bit less petulant this time around. “Alright.” He takes a bite of his food. “Can I at least start helping with meals? I don’t like just sitting around while you do everything, it makes me feel… you know...”
“I don’t actually. Enlighten me.”
Martin huffs. “I don’t want to say useless because, well, I don’t think you’d be very happy about that, but… that’s kind of the only word I can think of. I know I’m not fully recovered, but I’m well enough to help out here and there. Watching you do everything for me makes me feel… wrong, somehow.”
“Oh.” Jon stares down at his plate for a moment. “Alright. I’ll let you help with some small things here and there to start. Just don’t push yourself, alright?”
Martin lets out a huff of a laugh. “I don’t think I’m gonna overexert myself by chopping an onion. But still,” He takes a sip of his tea. “It’s sweet that you’re worried about me.”
“It’s hard not to be, I suppose. This is the best you’ve been doing in so long, I just want to ensure it stays that way. I guess… It’s just a bit difficult going from ensuring you actually eat and don’t suffocate in your sleep, to having you actually be… present, I guess. Actually able to offer up help without risk of choking on the words and then fainting the minute you stand. I’m just adjusting, I suppose.”
“Oh, Jon...”
“But,” Jon says pointedly. “I also trust that you know what you can handle, and if not helping out is making you feel bad, then I’m not going to try to tell you not to.”
“Thank you. And you know,” Martin places his hand on the table, palm up, and Jon places his own on top without hesitation. “You deserve a break. You’ve been worrying so much about how all of this has affected me, and I mean... yeah, it was bad. But I don’t want you ignoring what all of this did to you in favor of taking care of me. We both suffered because of this, but at least my suffering was a choice.” Martin’s voice goes quiet. “At least it got easier for me towards the end. Just… don’t think you have to be okay just because you aren’t the one who almost died, okay?”
Jon sighs, looking anywhere other than at Martin. “Okay…” Jon laughs humorlessly. “Christ, we need therapy don’t we?”
“Possibly, though I don’t know what kind of therapist specializes in spooky flower diseases.”
Jon hums. “I’m sure there are therapists that specialize in near-death experiences due to illnesses.
“Oh. Yeah, that makes more sense than what I said.”
Jon lets out a small breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “We’ll start looking for something soon, alright? I don’t think you’re quite ready for full trips out of the flat yet though.”
“Oh god no. Soon though, I hope.”
“That eager for therapy, are we?”
“Well, that’ll be nice too but…” Martin trails off. Jon raises an eyebrow, waiting for Martin to continue. Martin clears his throat. “I would like us to go on a proper date sometime soon.”
“I see how it is. Dum aloo and nature documentaries aren’t enough for you, hm? All that hard work making dinner for you and it doesn’t even count as a proper date. You wound me.” Jon says it all as seriously as he can, but a playful grin causes any possibility of sincerity to fizzle out.
“I never said I don’t love that too! I just think it would be nice to actually go out somewhere.” Martin drums his fingers on the table, smiling when Jon starts to mirror him.
“Did you have something in mind?”
“Not really? Just… a nice romantic dinner or we could get lunch and go to a park. Just something that isn’t here.”
Jon hums, smiling. Martin has started to learn when Jon starts to get inside his head and starts daydreaming, and if Jon’s dopey smile is anything to go off of, he’s currently considering their date options in detail. “Alright, we’ll talk about it and see what we want to do first, once you’re finally well enough for a day out.”
Martin beams, finishing up the last bit of his lunch and standing to place his and Jon’s dishes in the sink. “Tell you what, I’ll start washing the dishes from now on. It’s easy enough and I see the way act when you accidentally touch some of the food.”
“It’s disgusting, Martin-”
“Hey, hey, I’m not saying you’re wrong for reacting that way. You don’t have to defend yourself. I mean, I don’t particularly like it either but it’s clear it bothers you much more than it does me.”
“Yes, well, if you don’t have to leave and stroke a blanket for a whole minute to get the feeling to go away, then you’re already doing marginally better than I am.”
“I think I’ll be fine.”
“Actually,” Jon looks slightly uncomfortable. “I’m thinking about it too much, I’m starting to feel it. You do that, I’m gonna... go try to reset my senses.”
“Blanket time.” Martin says in a singsong voice, having quickly dubbed any time Jon needs to calm his senses down with that particularly fluffy blanket he owns as “blanket time”. Jon has not adopted this name, but doesn’t seem to have any issue with Martin calling it that.
There’s something about knowing that small detail about Jon that brings Martin so much joy. Just another fact filed away in a box labeled Jon that Martin keeps neatly stored right next to his heart. Jon says he likes earl grey, but he actually likes honey vanilla chamomile more. Jon still owns his first, and apparently only, childhood toy, a tattered lion with buttons for eyes that sits on a shelf next to old books. Jon has an exceptionally soft and fluffy blanket exclusively for when he touches a bad texture and needs to get rid of the feeling. Martin collects these little bits of information like a dragon hoarding treasure, holding them close with the knowledge that he’s one of the only people who gets to know these things.
Jon returns just as Martin finishes the dishes, the blanket draped around his shoulder. Martin dries his hands thoroughly, having quickly learned Jon also doesn’t like the feeling of someone else’s wet skin on his dry skin, something Martin had quickly filed away in the section of the box dedicated to things Jon doesn’t like.
“Better?” Martin asks. Jon nods, stroking the blanket.
“Yes, better.”
Martin smiles. “Good! Now then, I believe we have a show to get back to.”
“You have a show to get back to while I stare at the wall, which is arguably more interesting.”
“I’ll give you cuddles if you join me.”
Jon grumbles. “How dare you. I didn’t stand a chance. Now I have to watch a boring baking show lest I die from a lack of attention.”
“Yep!”
“You’re a cruel and unjust boyfriend.”
“Quiet, you.” Martin all but collapses onto the couch and resumes his show. He holds his arms open, waiting for Jon to fill the empty space. “Just come get your cuddles.”
Jon complies, with only minimal grumbling. Neither of them could be happier.
Martin feels silly.
Here he is, anxious over what to wear on his first date with Jon, as if they don't see each other every single day. As if Jon hasn't seen him with his hair an absolute mess and his shirt on backwards because he was too tired to pay attention and dared to kiss him before he had a chance to get up and brush his teeth.
As if Jon had watched him almost die and still stuck around until the end, but will draw the line at Martin wearing anything less than his best jumper. It's silly. He's being silly.
But, well, it’s possible he’s been overthinking this entire thing. His brain hasn’t quite caught up with the fact that he and Jon have been doing things a bit out of order, so it’s still ensuring his heart rate picks up and his stomach turns at the words first date. It’s been bad enough to cause him to get thoroughly distracted throughout his first week back to work.
The one thing that makes him feel just a little less silly is that he’s almost certain Jon is just as anxious as he is. Perhaps it’s just because Jon is readjusting to work and frantically trying to make up for lost time, but Jon had seemed quite frazzled the past week, making small errors he ordinarily never would have made or simply seeming a bit out of it. It wasn’t constant, but it did seem to get worse as the week progressed. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it had nothing to do with their date.
Martin is fairly certain the way Jon gathered his clothes from the bedroom and scampered into the bathroom like a frightened animal is because of their date though. Neither of them said a word to one another, but Martin could still recognize when Jon was anxious, even when it’s little more than the lovesick nerves one associates with a first date.
Regardless, it seems Jon at least got past his nerves enough to have settled on an outfit beforehand so he could retreat to the shower without having to awkwardly sort through his options. Martin, however, had not done that. Frankly, he’s been trying not to think about the date if possible lest his anxiety starts to spiral into something less playful and more worrying. So now he’s trying to choose between a pastel blue jumper with white cuffs or a sunshine yellow jumper with a sunflower that would rest over his heart.
He thinks a little too hard about the flower and suddenly he’s pulling the blue jumper over his head. He’s sure he’ll be able to wear the yellow one again someday, but… not yet. Any distance he can keep from flowers, for the time being, is for the best.
In the end, his outfit isn’t really distinguishable from something he’d wear to work any other day, but perhaps that’s for the best. They’re just going out for dinner. He needed to look nice, but there was no need to go overboard. (Martin had insisted that going out for dinner held a different weight to it than going out for lunch. Jon didn’t seem to get it, but Martin simply insisted they should have dinner as their first date, so Jon complied. He didn’t seem to have a preference either way, really.)
“Ready to go?” Jon calls from outside. Christ, had Martin really spent so long deliberating over jumpers that Jon had time to take a shower and get ready? That sounds like him, honestly.
Rather than answering Martin opts to just open the door. He was prepared for Jon to look nice, that’s essentially Jon’s default state of being. Martin was less prepared to have full-on heart palpitations.
Most of Jon’s appearance is fairly standard. He’s got on a deep purple button-down Martin is pretty sure he’s seen him wear before, and he’s got his hair up in a bun, though the ringlets on the sides aren’t down like that. But all of that is still essentially what Martin had expected from him.
It’s the skirt that’s making Martin’s heart beat hummingbird-fast. It’s black, a flowy thing that falls just above Jon’s knees and moves as he absently sways. His shirt is tucked into it. And, oh, upon further inspection he seems to be wearing black tights too. The only thing keeping Martin from passing out at the moment is the fact that Jon is mercifully not wearing heels.
Martin dramatically places a hand over his heart and feigns pain. “Agh…”
“Martin?” Jon sounds mildly concerned.
“I’m alright, it’s just… My boyfriend is too pretty.” Martin says, very careful to let on that he’s making a joke.
Jon sputters. “That’s-! You can’t-!”
Martin just chuckles as the two of them begin walking out of the flat and towards their destination. “Seriously, you look really nice. I don’t really have anything nice to wear that isn’t just what I wear to work every day.”
“Well, that explains why you look nice every day, then.”
Martin just stares for a moment, short-circuiting. “I- Have you always been this smooth?”
“Absolutely not,” Jon says with a grin. “Need I remind you that I was completely oblivious to the fact you had feelings for me while you were living with me? In hindsight, you were quite obvious about it all.”
“You really don’t need to remind me.”
“Well, regardless, I don’t see it as me being smooth,” Jon says the word like it physically pains him, skipping down the steps at a pace that concerns Martin. “I just say what I think. I’m not Tim, I’m not exactly well versed in the art of flirting,” This word comes out with even more vitriol.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I assure you that eventually I’ll say something you find baffling and I’ll have no idea what the difference is.”
“Well,” Martin smiles fondly, taking hold of Jon’s hand as they finally step out onto the streets. “I’m sure I’ll find it endearing regardless.”
Jon huffs at being called endearing, but Martin knows deep down he likes it.
They had settled on a nice Korean restaurant for their date when they had actually sat down and discussed what they wanted their first date to be. Tim had recommended this place to Martin a handful of times but he’d never had a chance to go, so he figured this was a great opportunity to give it a shot.
After they order, Jon places his hand on the table, palm up in invitation. Martin takes it, and finds he feels much more like an awkward lovesick teenager on a first date here than he does when they do this back at the flat. Something about this is so much more exposed, though a quick glance shows none of the other patrons are paying them any mind.
Jon squeezes his hand gently. “Is this alright?”
“Yeah, just um… feels different in public, I guess?”
“Not bad though?”
“No, not bad.”
Jon smiles, giving Martin’s hand another comforting squeeze. “Alright. Good.”
Martin squeezes back.
Jon, in his typical fashion, dives right into the next subject. “So when do you think you’ll be retrieving the rest of your things from your old flat?”
They had discussed, in length, if Martin truly wanted to move in with Jon so soon. Jon wasn’t apposed, far from it, but he was very careful to make sure this was something Martin actually wanted to do. Martin insisted it was, and they’ve been trying to plan things out since. He already got some of his clothes and a few other small things here and there once he felt well enough to actually go out, but plenty of his things are still in his old flat. He’s been trying to mentally go through all his belonging to decide what he’ll be bringing over to Jon’s- their flat, what he’ll put in storage, and what he should just get rid of. Overall it shouldn’t be too difficult of a moving process, but still, one he hasn’t quite fully planned out in his mind just yet.
Martin hums in thought. “Might try to pick up a few more small things this weekend, if you didn’t plan on keeping me on the couch all day so we can do another movie marathon.”
“Well now I want to do that.” Jon says petulantly, pouting just a bit. Martin lets out a slight laugh.
“Tell you what, I’ll pick up a few things tomorrow afternoon, and then we can watch as many schlocky horror movies as you want. So long as we don’t fall asleep on the couch this time, my neck still hasn’t forgiven me for that.”
Jon hums in faux thoughtfulness, as if he wasn’t already completely fine with the suggestion the moment he was given permission to make Martin watch more awful movies with him. “Very well.”
Jon quickly moves to the next topic, only stopping when the waiter brings them their food. Martin quickly digs in, but Jon seems to prioritize finishing what he was saying rather than paying his food any mind.
“Oh, that just reminded me-”
“Jon.”
“What?”
Martin smiles fondly. “You can keep talking, just eat your food too, okay?”
Jon looks down at his plate, wide-eyed, like he’d forgotten it was even there.
“Oh. Yes, right.” He takes a large bite. “As I was saying-”
When they have their marathon of bad horror movies, after Martin had a long day of boxing up more of his belongings and bringing them back to the flat, Jon is still the one to fall asleep on the couch. Cuddled as close to Martin as he can be at this angle, Jon has his face tucked in the crook of Martin’s neck. Jon rarely gets to sleep this easily, it would be a shame to wake him.
No matter, Martin thinks as he makes a decision he’s certain he wouldn’t have made if he wasn’t also exhausted. He carefully extracts himself from Jon’s grip and hooks his arms around Jon’s back and under his knees, and carries him to their bedroom.
He needs to be careful, thinking of it as their bedroom, or he’s gonna end up dropping Jon.
He carefully places Jon in bed, then crawls in beside him. Jon snuffles sleepily, enough to make Martin feel like his heart may explode with adoration. Jon shuffles closer to him and clings to him like a raft. Martin sighs contentedly.
He dreams of many things, that night. He dreams of lovely nights, somewhere far off where he can see the stars. He dreams of a hand in his, slightly clammy as it squeezes his own in a comforting gesture. He dreams of shy smiles revealing a gap between teeth. He dreams of blushing and fleeting glances. He dreams of love, the kind that makes his chest hurt in the normal way. He dreams of Jon. He always dreams of Jon.
He always dreams of flowers too. Sunflowers, dahlias, peonies, carnations, roses.
Hydrangeas.
He dreams of them in gardens he and Jon visit together, or in a bouquet Jon shyly hands him, or sitting in a vase on the kitchen table. Anywhere except for inside of him.
He dreams of flowers, exactly where they belong.