#Ive had tooo much caffiene

[obscureoperations]

Martin being touched starved and finally getting the affection that he didn't know he wanted or needed and then never wanting to let it go

This went on a bit longer than I thought it would and it might have spun off into two different directions. I was gonna do this as a headcannon but then I started typing, um, here ya go.

Martin wasn’t sure about much in his life, but he was sure that he wanted you. He wanted you in the purest sense of the word, he wanted to give himself to you completely. Around you he finally felt at ease. He was calm, there was no more pressure in his head, his mind was no longer constantly racing. There was only you and your soothing presence, and the ever present warmth that radiated from your skin. 

In the beginning things were different, it was like he was afraid to be in the same room. You danced around each other like cats, at that point you were pretty sure he hated you. You would always be cordial, giving him the benefit of the doubt--his behavior most likely had something to do with your godfather. He would always watch you when he thought you weren't aware little did he know you were aware of his every move. You could even sense that he wanted to come closer --but there was always the lingering doubt. He was afraid of what would happen if he did. At times you really hated the old man.

You never pushed or pried, happy to give him all the space he needed. It was after about two weeks that you noticed a change. Usually when you entered the room he would automatically leave. Or, he would exit the moment you’d step in. But one day, it was after you had gotten back from work, your bag rested on the kitchen table. You were tired--so tired, your feet practically had their own pulse, all you wanted was a moment to decompress. After a few moments the screen door swung open as Martin made his way into the room. The second he spotted you, he paused in mid step, regarding you with an unreadable expression. You reach for your bag already preparing to leave, but then you notice he wasn’t already turning away. Instead he regards you for a second longer before glancing away leisurely making his way towards the sink. 

You were utterly confused for a moment, should you leave? You weren’t even bothered that you had to walk on eggshells in your own house. You just wanted to understand. There was so much you wanted to learn about Martin-- you just wanted to put him at ease. You watch as he rummages through the cabinets for a glass-- he turns the faucet on filling it with water. He takes a sip before placing it down, only halfway glancing over his shoulder. After a moment, he takes out another glass filling up placing it on the table in front of you. And with that he was gone.

The next few days were just the same, he seemed less bothered by your presence. You would speak to him here and there, just a casual greeting-- he would go as far as to nod his head. It was ...progress in your opinion, definitely progress. You had already decided that the two of you may never be close, but you at least wanted him to be comfortable enough in his new home. He would look at you more, no longer glancing away when you spotted him. There was that same unreadable expression. What was he thinking? Despite the oddness of the situation, his gaze never came across as disconcerting. It was almost like he was trying to figure you out. What did he want to know, all he had to do was ask.

He began to speak to you, though he never initiated the conversation. His replies were always one word answers. He seemed perfectly content with listening to you-- if he wasn’t going to say anything, he was going to listen. Aside from Christina, you were the only one who acknowledged him in the house. For the most part Cuda just pretended he wasn’t there. One day, the two of you were in the living room actually seated together on the couch, his attention would shift between your rant about work and the magazine in his hand. “ I mean, I don't mind closing by myself once in a while, but if I leave a list.. Thats what needs to be done!” At this point he had placed his magazine aside as he regards you with a curious expression. With a sigh, you run your fingers through your hair before sparing him a brief glance. You felt the heat begin to rise to your face at your own endless ranting. Now you were the one who was probably being rude, he was clearly trying to read. But then you saw it-- so faint but it was there, was he actually smiling? Nearly undetectable, it touched the corners of his lips, and then he spoke up “You should quit…”  He was right. It wasn’t the most impolite way to say shut up. “Excuse me?” 

“You don’t like it there do you?”  “Well, no.” “Then quit--”  You were about to mutter some kind of excuse, when the two of you heard the sound of the back door swing open. Cuda was home, and MArtin quickly excused himself up stairs. Did the two of you actually have a conversation?

Things seemed to flow more naturally from there, he began to speak to you more and more. He would ask you questions-- he left them pretty open ended. And he would just sit there and listen to what you had to say. At times he would almost appear to be in a daze, as though your voice had put him into a translike state. “Martin?”  He would thoughtfully nod his head “ And then what did you do?”

At times he would stand close to you, perhaps closer than he needed to. It didn’t feel odd or off putting in the slightest-- in fact you actually wanted him to come closer. Something about the way the heat would emanate from his skin. Close enough that you could smell the clean cotton fabric of his shirt. If he liked to listen to you, then you surely liked to be near him just as much. His nearness was almost intoxicating.

The two of you began to have talks out on the porch, most of the time after dinner. Cuda would be preparing to meet with some of the men from church, and Christina most likely had a date with Arthur. For the most part the two of you talked about mundane things, he even started to tell you about working at the shop. You would throw subtle jabs at the older women he worked with, you considered it a feat whenever you got him to smile. As time went by, the two of you would draw closer-- at this point it was unclear who initiated it. It was like an invisible string pulling the two of you together. You were nearly arm and arm at this point, and for some reason you had this overwhelming urge to rest your head on his shoulder. You refrained of course, but he was silent now. You hadn’ even noticed when he stopped talking. You could feel it, it was the oddest sensation, he was so close you could almost feel his pulse. That was impossible, but it was almost as though your breath had synced. He speaks up suddenly, startling you out of your reprieve.” y/n, Im sorry.”  Sorry? “For what Martin?”

He’s silent for a moment so you tilt your head in an attempt to read his expression. His head was downcast, brown hair falling into his eyes--you had to resist the urge to brush it away from his forehead. “For how I acted earlier. I- in the beginning. I don’t hate you… you know that right?” Something coiled inside, he sounded so innocent in that moment--as though he actually believed you were upset with him. Tentatively you reach out placing a hand on his shoulder, he flinches, but doesn’t move away. “Martin… can you look at me?” He doesn’t respond. “Could you look at me..please?” Slowly he turns to face you, eyes still downcast you could have sworn you felt him start to tremble. You place your hand on his other shoulder squeezing gently, beckoning him to look at you. You had to be careful, you didn’t want to push him too far, but he had to understand. When he finally meets your gaze, he looks almost frightened--  as though he expected you to lash out and strike him. “Come here…” you offer quietly as your hands carefully ease to his waist. Just resting them there, you can feel him shift closer-- your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest. “ Closer… It's okay…” Ever so slowly, you allow your arms to encircle his waist before lightly resting your head against his chest. He remains there frozen for a moment-- so lightheaded he thought he might faint. You were so small and warm even in comparison to his slight frame. You smelled heavenly, was that your shampoo? He didn’t know what he should do with his hands, surely you didn’t want him to touch you? Getting a bit bolder, you press in close enough that your entire front was pressed against his chest. Your arms wrap around him a bit more securely, you could feel his heartbeat thundering in your ears. Please let this be okay…

You were almost about to ask that very question when a small noise escapes his throat. So faint it was between a gasp and a sigh-- but soon enough his arms gently encircle your waist. 

He was reeling, mind spinning off into a thousand different directions, what were you doing? Why would you possibly want to touch him? Weren’t you afraid?  He was dreaming, that had to be it! There was no other reasonable explanation. No way to explain why you were pulling him closer-- hands soothingly roaming across his back. A small whimper dies in his throat--he hopes to god you didn’t notice. He instinctively draws your near, resting his cheek against the top of your head. So warm and alive. He could feel the gentle beat of your heart--you smelt so lovely, he thought he might die. He allows himself to repeat the action, lightly smoothing his hands over your back.  The small content sigh that escapes your lips has him holding you all the much tighter.

You remain that was for what feels like an eternity, but in reality it was less than a minute. You were practically melded against his chest, face now resting at the crook of his neck--and his heart was already yours. After a moment you speak, he could feel your breath ghost along his neck causing goosebumps to bloom across the delicate flesh. “I'm really glad you’re here “