#and a very vague tag confirming something bad will happen to luka

[rainbow-arrow]

why are we skipping to episode 18? i need to make sure i survive through 10-17 first.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 17

Chapters: 17/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

The gallery hums with gentle energy, full of people drinking, chatting, considering the art on the walls. It's a strange little bubble, practically outside the real world.

Martin is standing alone for a rare moment when a voice comes out of the crowd.

"Can it be? Martin Blackwood, in the flesh."

Martin's blood runs icy at the long-buried voice, rising from his past like some kind of bad joke. Of all the times, in all the places, how could this be happening now?

He turns to find his worst nightmare, Peter Lukas, standing right there in the flesh.

"Peter?" He asks stupidly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

"My goodness, it is you. What an incredible surprise." Peter grins, oozing smultz and satisfaction. He looks Martin up and down like a prize cut of steak. "And here I was, thinking the art would be the best thing on display tonight."

"I-" Martin begins, in the hopes he can tell Peter to take a hike and disappear into the crowd. He wonders how angry Gerry would be if he simply walked straight out the door and called to explain from the safety of a taxi.

"It has been so many years. What is it? Six, seven?" Peter's voice booms, his barrel chest amplifying it across the gallery.

"Seven," Martin replies, far more quietly. He is terrified that Jon and Gerry will reappear at exactly the wrong moment, overhear precisely the wrong thing.

"Goodness! So long, and you're all grown up, aren't you? Like a good wine, only improved with a few years on you."

"Maybe that's because I was practically a child when you seduced me." Martin still whispers, but many years of anger and loathing have begun to bubble up inside of him.

"Now Martin, there's no reason to be like that. We were so good together. We could be, again." Peter steps towards Martin, hand outstretched to touch his arm.

"Mr Lukas," Gerry says, voice smooth and dangerous, inserting himself firmly at Martin's side. That part of him that fosters a keen awareness of his lovers blaring with alarm. "What brings you out this evening?"

"Oh Gerard, a pleasure to see you, as always." Pater's voice remains jovial, but his eyes crease at the interruption. "Martin and I were just having a little chat."

"No, we weren't," Martin says, his hand shaking where Gerry has interlaced their fingers.

"No?" Gerry asks, easy danger in his voice.

"No," Martin confirms.

"Mr Lukas, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't believe my partner appreciates seeing you here."

"Do you know how much money I sink into this artist? You can't ask me to leave." Peter's voice is still lilting and calm, but vehemence fills the words gradually.

"I don't give a flying fuck. Take a long walk off a short dock." Gerry advises him, best smile in place, voice verging on cheerful.

"Did your," Peter pauses to add disgust to his tone, " partner ever tell you that he used to be with me? That I used to pay him, to be with me?"

Martin goes absolutely pale.

"It is a shame when you have to pay for company, isn't it?" Gerry counters, not missing a beat, expression sunny and voice falsely sympathetic. "However, I'm afraid Mr Blackwood is rather occupied these days, with two boyfriends and a booming business. I believe his calendar is quite full."

"Whores never change. You think he's yours, but-"

All of a sudden, Jon appears from behind them and punches Peter with his full weight. Gerry, who has gotten into plenty of scraps with drunk idiots who won't keep their hands to themselves, is tempted to join in but thinks better of it. He pulls Jon back as Peter hits the floor heavily, and the room full of fancy art snobs goes very, very silent.

"Oh Christ," Martin mutters, voice as washed out as his complexion.

"What a to-do." Elias Bouchard arrives on the scene, suit impeccable, black shoes polished to a high shine. He stands with hands in pockets, gazing down at Peter with a look of mild interest. "You know Jonathan, I don't normally appreciate my employees striking my husband in public. However, I'll consider forgiving you, this time, on account of your surprisingly excellent right hook."

"Your what?" Jon demands furiously, going pale enough that Gerry is concerned he might pass out.

"My husband, Jonathan, do keep up," Elias responds, airily.

Martin makes a distressed little noise that makes the hairs on Gerry's arms stand on end.

Gertrude finally arrives, heels clicking intimidatingly. "Problem, gentlemen?" She queries, looking down at Peter, groaning on the ground.

"Ah," Gerry stutters, "I think we had better go?"

"I imagine that might be for the best. Do take both of your lovers with you." Gertrude says, with a bit of a bite. "And Gerard?"

"Yeah?" Gerry asks distractedly, trying to herd his errant partners among the gathering crowd.

"You are going to owe me for this one," Gertrude tells him, tone unbelievably prim, and verging into some sort of perverse satisfaction.

"Absolutely." If Gertrude can fix this one, Gerry will happily owe her anything.

*

Martin sits in a total haze on the way home, static filling his ears and blanketing him away from the world.

He's faintly aware of Jon holding his hand and his forehead leaned against the cool taxi window, but mostly he just stares blankly and doesn't even bother trying to draw himself away from his shocked stupor.

He gets out of the cab when it stops and wanders vaguely up the stairs and into the flat. Jon and Gerry follow him, concerned, but quiet for the time being.

He finds himself standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the loft, eyes intent on the bottom step, unsure if he knows how to climb them any longer.

"Martin? Martin!" A panicked voice eventually breaks through the haze, a hand desperately gripping his elbow.

"Jon?" Martin looks down at the hand, nails painted a lovely shade of green, then up at the face it belongs to. It's creased in concern.

"Are you alright?" Gerry's voice asks from close by.

"No. I don't think I am." His voice is foggy and he feels very far away still.

"Martin, I-" Jon starts, sounding shaky.

"He was telling the truth, you know." Martin tells them, rather abruptly, "Nothing he said was a lie."

"Martin, you are not a whore. Whatever you might have done for work, whatever choices you might have made in the past, those things don't mean anything to us." Gerry states firmly.

"We love the person you are now, and whatever baggage comes with you, we're fine with that." Jon continues, running his hands up and down Martin's arm.

"This?" Martin asks, suddenly aggressive. "You two are telling me that you're okay with me getting paid for, for-"

"For sex, Martin? Yes, we are fine with it." Jon responds unequivocally.

"There's nothing shameful about sex work," Gerry adds, voice equally firm. "And besides, you were young and Peter Lucas is a fucking cunt. I imagine desperate times called for opportunistic creeps to try to take advantage."

Martin shakes his head, eyes panicked. "I can't do this."

He turns and runs up the loft stairs.

Jon and Gerry watch him go, then exchange a concerned look.

"Let's give him some space, love," Gerry mutters, taking Jon's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

*

"Maybe you should go in with him."

"Don't even start that bullshit again, Jonathan. I thought we were past this?"

"I am! I just thought-" Jon's cuts off abruptly, chastised.

Martin, sitting on the floor of the shower, can hear every word. He can imagine them standing on the other side of the bathroom door, Jon twisting his hands together and Gerry's arms crossed protectively.

He feels the pit of his depression open up beneath him and he desperately clings to the edge of his sanity, trying not to fall in.

Martin is always afraid that he'll go into a depressive episode- and never come out the other side again. He presses his eyes closed, fighting against the sob desperately trying to choke him.

He honestly can't believe that he let this happen. Why didn't he tell them before? How could he have let himself move in with them, dedicated himself to them and never tell them he was a prostitute?

Martin isn't ashamed of what he had done to survive, but he knows getting paid for sex can be a deal-breaker for a lot of people. He feels sick that Jon or Gerry might feel trapped with him now. All because he couldn't open his stupid mouth and be honest with them.

Despite his best efforts, the tears escape, and his partners stand on the other side of the door, listening to his heart break.

*

Martin comes downstairs to find his lovers in the kitchen. Jon is cooking something fragrant and he has Gerry chopping vegetables. They're both still wearing their suits, and Martin feels absurdly underdressed in his sweatpants and favourite pink cardigan. It clashes with his hair, these days, but he doesn't care.

Gerry sees him first, pausing a moment to assess him. Martin is pleased to see the typical glint of focus and desire in his eyes. It has been such a bedrock in their relationship, and he had been dreading finding gone.

"Gerry, if-" Martin starts right away.

"Careful, love. If the words 'I'll understand if you don't want me to move in any more' come out of your mouth, I'm going to go back to the gallery and finish what Jon started. So if you don't want me to go to jail for murder, you had better reconsider." Gerry sounds downright pleasant as he says the words, leaning forward on the counter to loom threateningly.

Martin closes his mouth, Gerry having predicted his exact words.

"We understand if you're not ready to talk about any of that, Martin," Jon tells him with a reassuring smile. "Later is soon enough. We love you, and that's all that matters."

"Even with this?" Martin whispers, twisting his fingers together anxiously.

"Even with this," Gerry assures him. "Nothing and no one can change the way we feel about you. It's always going to be you for us."

Finally seeing that Martin won't approach them, Jon turns off the stove and comes over to take Martin's frigid hands in his warm calloused ones. He savours the touch, marvelling as always that someone with so many edges can be so soft when he needs it.

"Martin Blackwood, you are the love of our lives. Whatever came before us and whatever might come now that we're together, we love you, always and in all ways." Jon pronounces, the finality of a million acts of affection behind his words. "Please stay with us?"

Martin smiles shakily at the reminder of the resolution of Jon and Gerry's first major fight, at the words that had become akin to 'I can't be without you, and I won't let this take you away'.

He feels known and loved and adored, even as he feels violated and striped raw at the exposure of his past, his secret. He feels at home, in a flat full of boxes that always smells of oil paints and old books, with two lovers who couldn't be more different but had protected him when he didn't know how to protect himself.

Gerry comes over and takes one of his hands from Jon, holding it with both his own, placing a kiss on his palm. "Please stay with us?" He repeats the words softly, teal eyes bright with emotion. "I need you."

"I need you too," Martin tells them earnestly, allowing them to wrap him up in their arms. "Please keep me."

"Always," comes the reply, a certainty even more profound than fear.