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lostonehero · 1 month

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Selkie Martin fic

He isn't a seal though pt1

Martin nearly jumps, feeling a hand on his shoulder. "I uh.... oh, Sasha, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

Sasha sighs and motions to the breakroom. "Can we talk?"

Martin swallows and nods, ignoring the odd glance from Tim. He grabs his coat and holds it close to his chest. It didn't really matter anymore, but it was a comfort.

"Martin, what is up with you?" Sasha crosses her arms after she shuts the door behind her. "You've been acting weird since Jon and Tim returned your coat, which again the only reason Jon came is because me and Tim pressured him. Did Jon not apologize? Is that why you've been avoiding the both of them?"

Martin let's out a breath, of course Sasha would notice. He hugs his coat around himself. He didn't want to lie to Sasha. He really didn't want to... fuck it he needed someone to talk to and he couldn't ask Elias he hasn't found his skin yet. "I uh please don't scream."

"Martin, why would I scream?" Sasha raised her brow.

"Ok, you know what selkies are? Ok, yeah, but you don't believe they exist, and well, they do, and uh... this is my skin." Martin holds up his coat for a moment before he puts it on, and suddenly, the cramped breakroom was even more cramped. He was a massive wolf the size of a horse, and vaguely, he knew the species of animal he was supposed to be extinct.

Sasha blinked and blinked again. "Martin?" Her voice was quiet and full of just awe and shock.

The wolf contorts, and Martin pulls off his coat. "I uh yeah, so Jon and Tim returned my skin."

"Uh huh..." Sasha pauses as her mind catches up with her shock. She starts to laugh and then stops watching Martin's face drop. "Oh shit that's real isn't it."

Martin nods. "Sasha, I'm married to both of them. I don't even know what I should do. I've already tried to figure this out, Tim doesn't believe in selkies or at the very least he thinks it's a tragedy they exist and Jon shouted me out of his office when I tried to bring up selkies told me I was daft and that I shouldn't believe everything I read." He covers his face. "I also can't ask Elias because he doesn't have his skin, and it's very rude to discuss this with another who is missing their skin."

Sasha takes a deep breath. "Ok, now that you've completely changed my worldview, you drop the bomb that Elias isn't human!"

"I uh right... I mean, I can't tell you what animal he is, but he is a selkie. We can sense each other well is more animalistic than that, but uh yeah, he is." Martin frowns. "Before you ask, it is customary for younger selkie to help the older ones if their skins are missing or damaged, as long as the skin isn't burned, we are still selkies. The helping out helps with pack bonding, and such it's easier to survive if there's more of you. You know the odd cases of different species of animals forming packs yeah thats most likely selkies. Two of the same animal species doesn't exactly promise the offspring of the same species."

"I have like a million questions from that information alone. However Martin are you ok? Does it uh hurt?" Sasha frowns calming herself down.

"Hurt? Marriage doesn't hurt, but I mean, again, it's probably different than what you consider marriage. I uh don't mind it. I just don't know how to tell them. It does get a bit uncomfortable if I'm out of my skin for more than a day or two. I normally put it on when I get home." Martin rubs his arm. "I uh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just dropped this all on you."

Sasha shakes her head. "Don't Martin, it's ok. Look, this is a lot, and I have so many questions, but thank you for trusting me with this. Can you come over after work so we can actually talk about this?"

Martin nods. "Yeah... thank you again, Sasha."

.......

Sasha pauses, watching Martin make a face at the tea she made him. "If it's not good, you can tell me."

Martin sighs. "I'm not good with sweet drinks and food. My wolf body can't taste sweets, and my human body overcompensates." He places the mug down. "It's not your fault. I'm just a bit sensitive."

Sasha scribbles something down in her notebook. "Ok ok ok duly noted. That explains why you always refuse sweets from Tim."

"I like chocolate, just dark chocolate." Martin smiles sheepishly. "I uh you have questions, and I think I have answers. I mean, I get this from my dad's side. My mom isn't helpful she trapped him by stealing his skin, and I uh am a product of that. My dad isn't bad he's quite nice and lives up in Scotland. My mom... I would rather not talk about that, though." He rubs the back of his neck.

Sasha frowns. "So that part of the legend is true?"

"The stolen skin forced servitude? Yeah, it is." Martin sighs. "I mean, I'm not at risk anymore since I'm married. If someone tries to steal it, it would just appear with either Tim or Jon. In the modern day, it's more often selkies get accidently married to kind strangers or coworkers because they return what they think is a coat." He motions vaguely to himself. "I'm in that situation."

"Are you ok with that?" Sasha bites her lip, regretting the question.

"I can't exactly change it or get out of it." Martin sighs. "I'm happy neither if them took my skin, but still, I'm bound to both of them now. I'm not a servant, so silver linings, I guess." He shrugs.

"So off that morbid discussion." Sasha tries to joke, but it falls flat. "Right, uh, do you have a different lifespan, I mean, different from your species or humans."

"Oh yes." Martin hums softly. "Our lifespan can be compared to dragons, although the older selkies tend to spend time more so as animals than humans. I'm considered a baby at 29, and technically, so is Elias, we really aren't considered adults in our species until we're well in the mid hundreds."

Sasha blinks. "I'm sorry, first dragons exist?" She watches Martin nod. "And you're expected to live for a few thousand years?"

"Yes? I mean, I know it's a lot. I was raised human, not really understanding it until I actually sought out my father at 21. I think I'm still in the denial phase. I also think Jon and Tim are going to live as long as me because of the marriage thing, but I'm not certain I have to ask my dad or Elias once I find his skin." Martin pauses. "A lot of supernatural creatures exist, Sasha. we don't live in a vacuum." He stops. "I'm sorry that was rude."

Sasha chuckles softly. "Martin, it's ok. We are both new to this, I mean more so me than you."

Martin smiles. "You're right."

"Ok, I have like so many more questions, but most pressing, wanna order food?" Sasha giggles as Martin nods.

"Please." Martin sighs.

......

"So, Sasha, huh?" Tim wiggles his brows at Martin.

"What?" Martin blinks.

Tim snickers. "It's ok, marto, you can tell old Tim everything."

Martin pauses, realizing what Tim meant and stutters and gasps. "N-no? Sasha's aromantic... I uh..."

Sasha crosses her arms. "Martin, that was a secret."

Tim stops and frowns. "Shit, Sash, I'm sorry. I was just teasing, I'll forget I heard anything."

"No, no, no." Sasha pulls her chair between them. "I might as well explain why I basically shut down anything after our one night stand."

"Sasha, I told you it's fine. We're still friends, right? You aren't replacing me with Martin." Tim mocks being offended.

"I'm not, I'm helping Martin find something, and apparently, that means a lot of antiquing." Sasha visable relaxes.

"I told you you didn't have to help me." Martin flushes and sighs. "It's weird looking for it, and we probably won't find it."

"Oh, color me curious, what's this mystery object? A cursed tea pot? A lost sweater?" Tim smiles.

"An animal skin, I mean maybe a fur, just a piece made into clothing or jewelry." Martin crosses his arms. "I'll know it when I sm-see it. It's weird, I know, but I uh, it's just something I have to do."

"Dude, you don't have to explain yourself. If Sasha is helping you out, count me in. We can make a day of it, and I've been looking for some new plates too." Tim hums and winks as Martin blushes and covers his face.

Sasha chuckles. "Tim you're going to break him."

"Ah, what are friends for? Besides, I've got to get a book on myths since you still keep talking about selkies. I need to be able to know what you're talking about." Tim smiles wider as Martin's ears get red, and he covers his face.

"Why are none of you working?" Jon crosses his arms, staring at them with a raise brow.

"We were just discussing this weekend Jon, you can join us." Sasha smiles. "We're going to go through antique stores looking for an animal skin or fur. Tim's gonna look for new plates."

"You don't have to come." Martin quickly adds as Sasha elbows him to not.

Jon hums and sighs. "If I accept, will you stop asking me to grab drinks with you guys?"

"Hell yeah." Tim pumps his fist in the air. "Archive crew out antiquing."

Martin covers his red face.

Sasha chuckles. "Then it's a day."

"I suppose it is, now get back to work." Jon sighs.

......

"Why do you like the selkie legend so much? I mean, I know we deal with spooky stuff all day at work, but why that specifically?" Tim hums, looking through the jewelry laid out with odd fabric attached.

Martin watched Jon watch him and also wait for the answer. He swallows the truth on his tongue, knowing it would be useless until he could show them in person. "It's personal, it's from my father and I haven't been able to see him much with this job." Not entirely a lie but also not entirely the truth.

"You're father?" Jon raised his brow.

"Uh yeah, he lives up in Scotland, very off the grid type of guy. I only reconnected with him as an adult. The relationship with my mom wasn't exactly healthy, and he ran when he had the chance. I don't blame him for not taking me." Martin's eyes widen as he grabs the necklace from Jon. "Bloody hell, that's it." It was a small patch of fur. Martin knew the scent to be from a fox, but the specific species he wasn't quite sure about. It matched Elias's scent.

"Are you certain?" Jon only held a look of confusion as Martin didn't answer, and he pushed past the two men.

Tim hums. "That really did not answer anything, but the fact his childhood sucked."

Jon nodded. "I really want to know why he's so interested in fictional creatures. We don't even live by the sea."

"How about a deal, we come up with excuses for Martin to come out, and we get that information we can stop once we figure it out." Tim holds his hand out.

Jon hums in agreement, taking the hand. "I would suppose that would be a good way to find things out."

Sasha smirks from afar. She knew this was a bit underhanded, but they deserved to know the truth well before they realized that they had reverted back to their twenties. Martin told her about their bodies slowly adjusting to align with his age. She really didn't want a meltdown before Martin could show them the truth.

......

Jonah raised this brow. Why was Martin requesting to see him? He accepted Rosie's page. "Let him in." He rolled his shoulders his body was stiff, but that was normal. He never did feel comfortable in Elias's body even when he took over. He tried to write it off as an adjustment period, but it's been nearly 30 years, and he was running out of excuses.

Martin entered his office with a soft knock, and he seemed a bit more confident than Jonah was used to. "Hello sir, I uh... I found this for you." He holds out a leather necklace with animal fur on the end.

It was fox fur, one commonly known to the British isles. It was his. Jonah blinks furrows his brows. It wasn't his. What was happening? He took the necklace and ran two fingers over the soft fur. How was it still soft? It looked to be treated and old, not properly taken care of. He knew fox hunting had fallen out of fashion, but he never did have a taste for it either.

Martin watched Elias shut his eyes, and the small patch of fur shifted and turned to a very formal looking trench coat.

Jonah knew before he opened his eyes from the change of weight in his hands that the fur was different. He opened his eyes to an ornate coat, one he can recall that his mother looked longingly at through a window in his youth. This... no, the fur wasn't an object of the flesh, and it was his. No, not his it can't be his he's not... he didn't own furs, not ones that could magically turn into a coat from over 200 years ago, a coat that reminded him of his mother.

Martin looked at Elias with a confused look. "You're not Elias."

Jonah's eyes shot open at he staring at Martin. "Excuse me?" He didn't expect Martin to cross his arms and give a frustrated look instead of shrinking back at his raised tone.

"You don't know that's your skin." Martin's voice was quiet but strong. His demeanor shifted, and he pulled his coat tighter around himself.

"My what?" Jonah raised his brow and placed the coat in his lap, leaning forward.

Martin frowns and takes a breath. "You're not Elias. You have his body, yes, but you aren't him. You're a human who took over a body that isn't." He sits down and looks back to the closed door. "I won't ask who you are, but uh, aren't you going to put it on?"

"Martin, we are inside. Why would I put a coat on? Let alone one that just grew from a pice of fur." Jonah grot his teeth the aches were getting worse, and he held the coat in a death grip. "How do you know that for a fact I'm not Elias?"

Martin frowns, and he had pity in his eyes. "Your body hurts, doesn't it? How long has it been since you've worn your skin? You probably don't know that answer since you took over the body. I won't tell anyone about this, but you really should put it on, I'll put on mine."

Jonah knew he wouldn't get a straight answer unless he put on the damn coat. He refused that tiny voice in the back of his, correcting him that it was a skin, his skin. "You will explain everything."

Martin nods. "I will."

Jonah sighs and pushes his chair back, and starts to put on the coat as he stands up. He feels a bit weightless as the pain and stiffness drain from his body as his perspective shifts. He's shrinking. He has to be. His desk shouldn't be this big. He shook his head and tried to move and realized he had paws. He stumbles back and yelps or whatever that noose was that escaped his mouth. Something warm and wet went across his head and back, and it somehow calmed him down enough for him to stare up at the massive wolf above him.

A low growl from the wolf, and he was speaking in Jonah's head. "You'll have a horrible time if you keep trying to think you're human." Martin's voice sounded off in his head as he laid on the floor, letting Jonah approach.

Jonah stumbled but managed to walk closer. He sniffed Martin and recognized the scent from the first interview. The Beholder wasn't helping him. They weren't even feeding off his confusion, just watching. He batted Martin's nose, unable to figure out how to speak except make animalistic noises.

"It took me a bit to understand how to communicate like this, too." Martin yawns and tilts his head. "I know this is overwhelming, but relax. You need to rest before you remove your skin again. I can't imagine what it's like going so long without it. My mother hid my skin from me for a while, and it hurt, but I can't imagine that pain for years."

Jonah huffs and mimics Martin's position lying on the floor. It was hard fighting against the urge to sleep since the pain was gone, but he needed answers. He focused and shut his eyes and... "What... what are we?"

"You figured it out faster than I did." Martin rolls to his back stretching. "You must know the legend of the selkie. Well, it's not just seals that are selkies. Don't let anyone take your skin, and try not to forget it because if someone grabs it and returns it, you'll be married." He sits up. "However, if you're married, nobody will be able to steal your skin, and you won't become a servant."

Jonah can feel his hair no fur stand up with that information. "Is there a way to be human again?"

"In a sense, but it might kill you. The odds aren't good when you burn your skin." Martin growls. "If you have a death wish you can."

That was the last thing he wanted. Jonah was quiet for a moment. "Teach me?"

"In exchange, I want to know who you are and how you ended up in that body." Martin held a confidence Jonah was not prepared for.

"I don't have a choice, do i?" Jonah knew what a growl meant as his ears pinned back. "Fine, but you can not tell anyone."

"You can't tell anyone about me, and we have a deal." Martin huffs.

"Agreed." Jonah paused for a moment. "My name is Jonah."

Martin barked softly and shifted, and soon, he was sitting normally with his coat around his shoulders. "Ok then, Jonah." He scoops the fox up in his arms. "You need to relax for at least an hour before you take your skin off. I really hope you don't have any meetings because I can't pretend to be you."

Jonah felt a little annoyed at being carried, but it was also a bit comforting. He hated that information, but he didn't have any meetings till the afternoon, so it wouldn't be awful. He yelps as he is placed in his crumbled coat on his chair.

"Don't complain, and I know you're my boss, but right now, we are technically a pack and so on equal footing. This is the best I can do with what you have in this office. I'll be back in an hour and try to relax. Maybe you'll figure out your skin before I get back, but right now, I just appreciate the small nest." Martin smiles softly. "Even if you're not Elias, I'm still going to help. I know what it's like being stuck without a way to truly understand what you are. I got my skin at 13 and didn't know or understand till I was 21." He quietly leaves Jonah's office leaving him alone.

Jonah internally frowns. He was lost and confused, but he had someone to teach him as frustrating as the situation was his body finally didn't hurt he was warm, and his chair was soft. He felt sleep grip him, and he could feel the shift between him and Martin. He was right they were equals now.

......

Jonah doesn't think he was asleep that long when he woke up with sneeze. Fog tickled his nose, and he didn't like the shift in temperature. He shifted and felt something, and he blinked as he was sitting in his chair, and the ornate coat was on his shoulders. Ok, he didn't truly understand how he did that, and he was getting even more frustrated with the mounting questions he had to rely on Martin for.

"Jonah what the fuck." The soft voice of his husband pulled Jonah out of his internal musings.

Jonahs eyes went wide. "Uh, Peter, you aren't supposed to be in this early." He unconsciously pulls his coat tighter around him as Peter approaches him.

Peter notices his sudden shift and stops only a foot away from his husband. "I'm not going to take it, you know, and I'm sure as hell not going to return it to you."

"You know what it is?" Jonah could feel curiosity start to awaken and fan a flame in him.

Peter had a look of shock on his face. "You didn't?"

"I don't exactly choose what bodies the Beholder picks for me." Jonah crosses his arms. "Again, how do you know what this is?"

"I'm a sailor, Jonah. The selkie legend is a common one. Also, Tadeas is a selkie." Peter pinches his brow. "How did you not know? Jonah, it's been over 20 years since you took over Elias."

"I didn't exactly have this!" Jonah makes it a point to hold up his skin. "Martin, one of the archival assistants found a piece of fox fur and returned it to me. How was I supposed to know Elias wasn't human?"

Peter gives a heavy sigh. "I can't believe I know more about this than you do."

Jonah scowls. "Why are you even here?"

"Is it too much that I want to visit my husband." Peter frowns and sighs. "Fine, honestly, I've been trying to use the Forsaken, and it keeps bringing me to the apartment or here."

Jonah snorts. "What you aren't being lonely enough?"

Peter scowls. "My family has also been pressuring me to find out what is going on." He doesn't reach out for Jonah's skin but cups his cheek. "Has your patron been acting off?"

Jonah huffs as he leans into the touch. "I suppose they have... they didn't even feed on my earlier fear when I got my skin... Elias's skin."

"It's your skin now."

Jonah and Peter jump at the new voice.

"Sorry." The red head frowns. "I thought you heard me come in."

Jonah removes himself from Peter. "Martin, please knock before you come in." He sighs.

"I uh did...." Martin rubs the back of his head. "Sorry I can go."

"Can I take him?" Peter perked up.

"No, and this is why we're still divorced." Jonah takes a breath. "Martin, I seem to have a handle on this. You can go."

Martin tilts his head. "You're Peter Lukas."

Peter flinched, not enjoying being known. "Why do you know that?"

Martin hums. "Selkies are a very connected species since we are hunted or our skins are stolen and we become slaves. Tadeas is friends with my father. You shouldn't be surprised you're a respected human in our community."

"Respected?" Peter raised his brow.

"You're one of the fear folks. If we needed someone to disappear or to get rid of an awful human, we would go to you. I know I come off as clueless, but I know what I walked into getting a job here." Martin sighs and shrugs. "My father taught me the truth."

"You already know about the fears?" Jonah smiles. "How fascinating, and you didn't even warn your friends."

"You really are clueless when it comes to what you are or the supernatural." Martin shakes his head.

"You know that explains the random gifts." Peter hums, scratching his beard. "It makes my job easier."

Jonah scowls. "And what am I so ignorant about?"

"Jonah, the fears don't affect the supernatural. Your avatarhood is currently an anomaly, not the rule." Peter chuckles at his partner's bewildered face.

"Peter is right." Martin hums. "You're still an avatar of whatever you serve, but that's only because you were before you possessed the body you're currently in."

Jonah's mouth curves into a frown. "Martin, you can go."

Martin nods. "Ye-yeah, ok." He slips out of Jonah's office.

Peter hums. "Oh, what's wrong, Jonah? Don't like the new information?"

Jonah scowls and pushes Peter away. "Leave me alone. Don't you have people to dissapear?"

Peter chuckles. "Oh, not at the moment. It seems my calander is open. How about another marriage?"

"Go fuck yourself." Jonah scoffs and returns to his chair.

"I'll see you at home." Peter hums. "Any requests for dinner? Rabbit, perhaps?" He snickers as Jonah throws his pen at him. He vanishes in a rolling fog.

Jonah huffs. "I should make him give me back my skin so he can suffer with me." He froze. No, no, no. I shouldn't want that. Peter isn't that important to him. Right? They use each other, and that's that. He covers his face and groans at the new instincts inside of him.

......

"So?" Tim rolls his chair next to Martin.

"So?" Martin raised his brow.

"Did you think about it?" Tim smiles brightly.

"I uh oh... I mean, I was going out to a hiking trail with Sasha this Saturday...." Martin jumps as Sasha comes up from behind him.

"You are welcome to join us. Bring a Frisbee." Sasha chuckles as Martin covers his face.

"I think Jon's allergic to nature." Tim snickers as he hears a scoff.

"I am not. I can enjoy a nature hike." Jon huffs crossing his arms.

Sasha giggles softly. "I mean, it's not really a hike. It just helps Martin get out excess energy."

"You're talking about him like he's a dog." Jon raised his brow.

Martin covers his face and gives a heavy sigh.

Sasha snickers as she heads back to her desk.

Tim pauses and exchanges looks with Jon. "Are you ever going to explain that, Sash?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Sasha hums.

"That's ominous and vague." Tim huffs rolling his chair by Sasha. "Come on tell us."

Martin tilts his head studying Tim as he uncovers his face. He wasn't that old to begin with, but even the signs of being in his 30s were slowly melting off his body. He was very fit and muscular, but time had a way to hide that even if you continued to exercise like he did. Tim probably didn't even notice it. He then turned his gaze to Jon, ignoring the questions and banter. He looked better in all honesty, less tired, and he still had gray hairs in his raven hair, but that just could be genetics or stress. He wasn't slouched either like his back felt better.

"Hey Martin?" Tim waves his hand in front of his face.

Martin blinks. "I uh oh yeah, sorry I wasn't listening."

Jon pinched his brow. "Martin, we were asking what would be appropriate to wear for this outing."

Martin paused. "Things you wouldn't mind getting dirty."

"That makes sense for a hike." Tim hums.

......

Jon had to admit this was a very beautiful area as he made his way to join the others in a clearing. It was odd that Martin had his coat it wasn't a cold day, nor was rain expected, but he didn't question it it could be personal. It explained the panic reaction when Tim and himself returned the thing to him. It was peaceful, and maybe Tim's plan of spending more time with Martin to figure out his obsession with selkies wasn't totally a loss if they never figured it out after the three weekends so far.

Tim motioned for Jon to get closer. "Come on, Jon, we're all waiting." He smiles brightly, maybe he did have a crush on Jon but now Martin was a strong contender and he only asked Jon about looking into Martin as an excuse to spend time with them outside of work. So far, the plan is working amazingly. "I even brought the Frisbee."

Jon rolls his eyes as he approaches. "Seriously? I thought Sasha was joking."

Sasha waves. "I was not it's not for us it's for Martin." She elbows the larger man. "Come on, we are far away from civilization and cell service. Go have fun."

Martin laughs nervously. "Are you sure."

"Put on your coat, Martin." Sasha nudges him again.

"His coat? Sasha, it's not even cold out. He's going to overheat." Jon raised his brow as Martin snickers softly. "Oh lord Martin, I'm allowed to be concerned."

"Let him wear his coat." Tim nudges Jon. "Let him be happy."

"I'm just saying he would be more comfortable not overheating. I'm being practical, Tim." Jon crosses his arms, and Tim swears he looks like he's pouting.

"Oh come on, Jonny boy, let Martin have his fun... what's with that look?" Tim follows Jon's gaze to a large wolf the size of a horse shaking out his fur next to Sasha. "Oh fuck."

Jon's eyes were wide, and he stepped back. "His obsession wasn't an obsession, was it?"

Sasha pets the wolf's snout. "You know he can still hear and understand you." She chuckles as the wolf whines. "Don't be nice. The boys are stupid."

The wolf whines again and huffs. There are red streaks in his black fur, and he walks over slowly to Jon and Tim. He sits back in his hind legs and tilts his head.

Jon swallows. "Fuck me, Martin?"

"That's Martin?" Tim's eyes were wide watching the wolf contort, and then Martin was sitting pulling off his coat.

"Yes, that's me." Martin sighs. "I didn't mean to hide this so long after you guys returned my skin to me. I just didn't know how to bring up the topic."

"Selkies aren't just seals." Tim steps closer.

"Nope." Martin says with a pop.

"We returned your skin." Jon swallows and steps back.

"Yes, you did. I have to reiterate that you both returned my skin." Martin rubs his arm and sighs.

Tim pauses and falls to sit next to Martin. "We fucking returned your skin." He runs his hands through his dark brown hair and curses. "We returned your skin."

"Does that actually mean...?" Jon trails off.

Martin nods. "It does, I honestly prefer that rather than being a slave. It's not either of your faults. I left my skin by accident, and you both just thought it was my coat. You were just being polite, and that's how it goes. I'm not the only one in this situation if that makes you feel any better."

Tim groans. "It doesn't. Are you ok? We've been teasing you for weeks about the selkie thing."

"I mean, I'm fine, to be honest. I'm not exactly good at dropping hints, so it's not a wonder why you thought I was obsessed." Martin smiles softly and leans back. "I'm not mad about the marriage thing, I'm glad it's not a stranger, and it also means nobody can steal my skin ever again, if they try it would just end up with either of you. So I have a new sense of security."

"But we took away your choice." Tim frowns and looks away.

"What choice?" Martin sighs. "It's not like a human marriage, Tim. There was no choice for me in the first place. Some selkies who fall in love with humans or other species have a ceremony like humans for them returning their skin that they purposely left, but again, that's entirely different. You two can do whatever you wish. I just hope you two stay in contact with me. That's all I ask." He gets up. "Now, if you both don't mind, I was promised a game of catch, and I do enjoy stretching my legs so I'm just going to put my skin back on and play with Sasha." He puts his skin back on and runs as Sasha throws the Frisbee.

Jon shakes his head. "Wait, I have questions. I uh... um...." He watches Martin run around and sit next to Tim. "He seems very happy... I uh is that normal?"

"Do you have any experience with dogs?" Tim raised his brow.

"Not really. I prefer cats." Jon frowns. "Also, that's clearly a wolf, not a dog... I mean a very large wolf, but not a dog."

"Dogs and wolves have similar behaviors, like cats and big cats." Tim snickers.

"Martin! No, put that down!" Sasha shouts, and the two men notice a tan creature in his jaw.

Martin trots over to Sasha and puts down what Tim can now identify as a tan fox with streaks of normal red coloration in their fur. The fox looked annoyed the best way he can describe that.

Sasha pinches her brow and looks down. "Martin, we talked about this. If you're going to eat, don't do it in front of me."

Martin proceeds to lick the small fox compared to him, and its fur stands up on end. He sits and wags his tail.

The fox growls but not threatened and shakes out its fur. They sit down next to Martin with their ears pinned back.

Martin nudges his snout against the Frisbee.

"Oh... is this another?" Sasha pauses when Martin nods and lolls his tongue out. "Ohhhhhh ok, do they want to play too?"

The fox tried their best to look uninterested, but their eyes were locked on the toy.

Sasha chuckles softly. "Alright, alright." She throws the Frisbee as far as she can, and the two selkies go running. She hums and makes her way over to Jon and Tim. "Don't worry, that's another selkie."

"I can tell from the behavior." Jon tilts his head. "Odd fur pattern."

"Maybe that's just a selkie thing. Look at Martin he's also git red in his fur." Tim points at Martin holding the Frisbee while the fox dangles from the Frisbee in its mouth.

"You know I did ask him." Sasha interrupts. "The fur color is mostly the animal, but their human hair color comes through like that."

Tim and Jon make a noise of acknowledgment.

Martin drops the toy and the fox and looks over to something the three watching can't see. He tilts his head as the fox gets up and looks over hissing, puffing out their fur. Martin ends up licking them again, which seems to relax them.

A voice chuckles, and a white-haired man steps out into the clearing. He is big and strong and looks like he belongs on a cover of the old man and the sea. "Come here." He holds a hand out, and the fox approaches and yelps when it is scooped up. "Now, is this why you bolted away from me? Miss your little packmate?"

The fox looked like it wanted to growl, but the soft pets made them pur.

"Are you trying to tell me you want new toys, Jonah?" The man chuckles as the fox hisses.

Martin stretches and removes his skin. "Of course he needs toys, unless you want him to bring you back dead animals."

"Duly noted." The man sighs as Jonah is already half asleep in his arms. "Is this normal?"

"I don't see why it isn't he trusts you." Martin shrugs. "You seem surprised."

The man shifts, and a blush is quickly overtaking his pale features. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The fox rolls over and curls up tight in his arms.

"He's also a bit over stimulated, not used to using his skin. Give him time to adjust." Martin watches the man nod as he walks off. He returns to the three on the ground.

"Who was that?" Tim raised his brow.

"That's Peter, he's basically married that that selkie. That selkie just got his skin back, so he's adjusting to being whole again." Martin smiles softly.

"Is that why you were looking for that animal skin?" Jon gets up dusting himself off.

"Oh, uh yeah, that's the guy. He's not that much older than me comparatively for selkies, but uh yeah, we have pack bonded because of that, so he's my friend." Martin sighs. "I can't imagine how painful it was without your skin. I get uncomfortable if I go more than 12 hours without being in it."

"It's hurts?" Jon looks at Martin with a bit of panic.

"Jon, relax. Martin literally explained that he just uses his skin to make that pain go away." Tim gets up and stretches.

"Tim's right, it's just uncomfortable like my human skin doesn't fit right, and my bones are stiff." Martin smiles nervously. "You don't need to fuss over me. I have enough experience with what I'm comfortable with."

Jon rubs the back of his neck and looks away. "Of course you're right."

Sasha gets up and slings her arms around Jon and Tim. "Now that everything is out in the open, congrats on the marriage."

"Sasha.." Martin tries to look annoyed, but he breaks into giggles. "Don't be mean."

"Not being mean, just stating a fact." Sasha pauses. "Granted, they are both married to you, not each other."

"Right, I have to ask. What does that mean?" Jon follows Martin as he heads out of the forest.

"I'm bound to you and Tim for as long as I live." Martin hums softly.

"For as long as you live?" Tim raised his brow.

"I mean, unless one or both of you are killed." Martin sighs. "Although, that's a bit harder now."

"Wait, what do you mean by how long you live? Do you have a different life span or something?" Jon glances at Tim then Sasha, who doesn't give anything away.

Martin stops walking, and Jon stumbles into his back. "So you want to know, or are you just curious? Because you both have the same lifespan as myself now."

"Just tell us! I would like to know if my mom is going to bury me." Tim bit his lip. "I uh... sorry."

"My lifespan is comparably to a dragons, so a few thousand years." Martin turns to face them. "I uh yeah, I mean I'm considered an infant really to other older selkies. My dad is around 500 years old."

Tim opened his mouth then shut it.

Jon clears his throat. "A few thousand?"

"Yes, Jon, a few thousand." Martin hums. "Are you ok?"

Tim takes a deep breath. "So we're just going to be old for like ever?"

"No? I don't know if you noticed, but both of your bodies have already adjusted. You'll be in your 20s for a long while." Martin clicked his teeth shut.

Jon covers his face. "Things make so much more sense now."

"I uh..." Tim takes another deep breath. "This is a lot."

Martin frowns. "Look, we don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry I brought it up." He rushes forward through the trees and out of sight.

Sasha sighs. "You know he wasn't born a selkie. He only got his skin at 13, and even with that, he didn't understand until he was 21 and reconnected with his father. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him to agree to reveal himself to you two? The man doesn't want to hurt either of you. He's scared that if he dies something wrong, you'll throw him away."

Jon has a guilty look on his features.

"He wasn't born a selkie?" Tim frowns. "I... I didn't mean to hurt him. It's just a lot."

"His mother is a human who stole his father's skin." Sasha pauses watching Tim flinch, and Jon looks even more guilty. "It's a coin flip if Martin would be human or selkie, and he got his skin which answered that question. His mother took his skin away from him until he was 18, and he took it back. He really means it when he says that he's thankful for the marriage. His skin can never be stolen again."

Jon rubs his arm. "We should apologize."

"You're right." Tim nods. "I... fuck I didn't want to hurt him."

Sasha rolls her eyes. "I can't save either of you from being stupid, but I can tell you that you can call him later."

"But-" Jon tried to interject but Sasha held up her hand.

"Text him now if you must, but let him be. He's been scared out of his mind about you two. The truth is out in the open, so let him settle down and just text him." Sasha motions for the two to follow her. "You two can think of nice texts while you treat me to lunch er well early dinner at this point."

Jon and Tim nod.

.....

Jonah stretches and sighs. "What's with that look, Peter? I thought you enjoyed watching me prance around like an animal."

Peter frowns, recalling what Martin told him. Jonah trusts him, and he doesn't know what to do with that information. This relationship wasn't supposed to be anything more than to annoy his family and sex. Sure, they got cats along the way, and his things are mixed in with Jonah's, but it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything, he serves the Forsaken first, and that meant no attachments.

Jonah snaps in front of Peter's face. "I swear you get lost in your head way too often, Peter." He sighs. "I wanted to ask about the Forsaken. What's different about it?"

Peter stares at Jonah and stays quiet enough the other man is getting annoyed.

"Peter, I swear just answer the question." Jonah sighs.

"When did you get freckles?" Peter tilts his head. "We weren't even out in the sun, and they don't develop this fast."

Jonah steps back and raises his brow. He opens his phone and switches his camera. His face is emotionless as he touches his face. "Elias doesn't have freckles but..."

"But?" Peter raised his brow.

"I had freckles... my original body..." Jonah shoves his phone on his pocket as he retreats into the bathroom.

Peter gets up to follow knocking on the door. "Jonah, relax yourself it's just freckles."

"It's not just freckles!" Jonah shouts from the other side of the door.

Peter hears the sound of jonahs belt falling to the floor, then the shuffle of him taking off his pants. "What's so pressing that you're undressing? Last time I checked, you had the same equipment. What were you not born male originally?" He steps back at the soft whine.

Jonahs voice cracks as he answers. "I wasn't born male." He didn't lock the door as Peter entered.

Peter saw Jonah half naked sitting on the floor. He was missing something between his legs but still had his manhood. "Jonah, are you ok?"

Jonah was red face with anger or frustration or just anguished. He was shaking. He doesn't make a noise when Peter scoops him up.

"Alright, fussy, come on. I think it's time for you to take a nap." Peter can feel Jonah stiffen and slowly cling to him. "You've still got your dick, and that's that. You're still a man, you big baby." He sighs as jonahs skin drops to the floor on the process of bringing him to the bedroom. "Are you going to throw a fit, every time your body adapts and changes because you aren't human anymore."

Jonah grumbles, not speaking as he is tucked into bed. He looks up at Peter.

"You're ridiculous, the great Jonah Magnus afraid of a new hole. You're still a man, and whatever." Peter sighs. "Go take a nap, or I'm calling Martin."

Jonah huffs. "W-wait..." He reaches out as Peter leaves.

Peter returns with his skin in his arms. "I swear Jonah I was literally in the next room." He places the skin on top of Jonah. "You are the neediest man I've ever met." He crosses his arms and sits on the edge of the bed.

Jonah pulls his skin under the blanket. "Lay down."

"No, unlike you, I'm going to actually get chores done." Peter stiffens feeling the bed shift, and Jonah has wrapped his arms from behind. "Jonah, I'm serious."

"Take me to a pet shop then. I do want new toys." Jonah rests his head on Peter's shoulder. "I've earned it."

"You've earned it? You nearly broke down because your balls were replaced with a vagina." Peter can feel his resolve shatter. "You have to be in your skin."

"Mmmhk." Jonah hums. "The cats deserve something new, too."

Peter was going to do that regardless of Jonah making a comment. "Of course they deserve more than you."

"I've been good." Jonah huffs. "The Forsaken wants you to have a stronger connection to me, so when you travel, it hurts more. The Forsaken picked you to be... hmm." Glowing green eyes locked eyes with the gray blue eyes.

"Picked me to what?" Peter frowns, knowing that smirk meant Jonah wouldn't tell him unless he got what he asked.

"Who knows? I want a chew toy." Jonah huffs as Peter pushes him back to the bed.

"You're terrible." Peter sighs. "Absotuely awful."

Jonah chuckles. "As I've been told."

Peter groans. "Put your damn skin on. We'll go out."

Jonah smirks.

......

"What...? Tim be serious you're going to apologize and give Martin that?" Jon scoffs as he actually arrives to work on time.

Tim raised his brow. "And you think chocolates are better?"

"He's not an animal." Jon huffs as he places the chocolates and handwritten note on Martin's desk.

Martin blinks. "Uh, what's this?"

"An apology note and a gift." Jon sighs. "I know I've texted you an apology, but I think you deserve more. I apologize for last weekend."

Martin sniffs the box of chocolate and makes a face for a second, and pushes it aside. "Thanks for the note."

"You don't like the chocolate?" Jon frowns as Tim snickers behind him.

"I like dark chocolate. My human side tends to overcompensate when it comes to sweets since I can't taste them in my skin." Martin shrugs handing the box to Sasha.

"I see. Well, I apologize for the wrong gift." Jon hums.

Martin chuckles softly. "It's ok. I just got overwhelmed. You didn't have to go out of your way to get me something."

"Duh, because I got the better apology gift." Tim holds the largest chew toy he could. "Well, did I win?"

Jon rolls his eyes. "It's not a competition, and don't treat him like..." He trails off as Martin snatches the large toy from Tim.

"You got this for me?" Martin has pure hope in his eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, I know you're not a dog, but I mean, you can still use it, right?" Tim gives a soft oof as Martin picks him up in a tight hug.

"Oh, thank you so much. I'm so tired of chewing on logs, I'm still really young, and my teeth are weird." Marrin drops Tim. "Thank you again. This is amazing."

Jon scowls and crosses his arms. "Don't say a word, Tim."

"I don't need to." Tim chuckles.

Martin blushes and puts the toy down by his bag. "I uh right work... got to work.... thank you both of you."

"For what it's worth, Jon, these are good chocolates." Sasha gives a thumbs up.

Jon sighs. "Thank you, Sasha."

Martin gets up suddenly again. "Oh right, I'll make you both some tea. I uh do you two still want to meet up this weekend or uh..."

Jon perks up a bit. "Yes, we can meet up again this weekend."

"Yeah, come over to my place. We can watch bad movies." Tim shoots Martin some finger guns.

"Oh, that's great." Martin hums as he heads to the breakroom.

"Did you not listen to anything I said about Martin and food?" Sasha raised her brow.

"I may have been distracted." Jon sighs, trudging into his office.

"I listened." Tim smirks.

"Obviously." Sasha chuckles. "So how long have you been falling for the two?"

"Am I that bad?" Tim sighs, sinking into his chair.

"You wear your heart on your sleeve, which is kind of cute." Sasha smiles softly. "You've got marriage out of the way."

"Haha, very funny." Tim rolls his eyes.

......

Georgie raised her brow at the unfamiliar number, asking for a video call. It was late, and she didn't exactly have anything better to do, she accepted. She didn't expect to hear her ex speaking obviously slurred speech to show he's drunk.

"Aw yeah, she answered." Jon hiccups. The camera pans to his face with a deep blush and a furry rug he was leaning on?

No, the rug licked his face, which was a big dog. Georgie muffled a laugh.

"Georgie, Georgie, Georgie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not talking." Jon furrows his brows as the dog licks his face again. "I don't even like dogs."

A voice from off camera. "Martin isn't a dog."

"Yes, yes." Jon hiccups again. "But he's so soft and look at him." He fumbles his phone, and it points to a massive... yeah, that wasn't a dog. "I got married. I wanna see the admiral." He starts to sniff like he was gonna cry. "I wanna see my baby boy."

Georgie watches someone catch his phone before he buries his face into the giant wolf who was wagging their tail. A man she didn't recognize appeared on the phone.

"Oh ahit he really did call someone..." The man sighs. "I'm sorry, er Georgie? Right, uh, I'm Tim, and I didn't realize how much of a light weight Jon is. Also, sorry, he's probably too drunk out of his mind to realize that he called you." Tim directs the camera back to the scene of Jon without his glasses. The wolf had them in his mouth, and he was singing a mech song while petting the large animal.

"Look, I know you don't know me, but can you keep me on the phone? Jon's an old friend of mine, and I would enjoy the blackmail material." Georgie bit back a laugh.

"Oh, I like you." Tim waves off the wolf who whines. "Martin just keep him from hurting himself."

The wolf gets up, throwing Jon off balance from where he was leaning on them, and proceeds to lay back down on his legs.

"Puppy blanket!" Jon throws his arms up in a cheer and goes back to singing and petting the wolf now leaning over the wolf.

Georgie snorts. "Fuck me he's absolutely blasted. I haven't seen him this drunk since college. Here, let me give you my number. I want all the embarrassing pictures."

"Do you have pics from his college years?" Tim smirks off camera.

"Fuck yeah we can exchange pictures." Georgie smiles wide.

.......

"Good lord." Jon groans as he wakes up. He was ok, something soft and warm, but couldn't make it out. Something nudged his hand, and he had his glasses to see, and a glass of water was next to him as well. "Did i... uh." He drinks the water and looks over to the large wolf.

Martin yawns and wags his tail.

"I fell asleep on you." Jon gives a heavy sigh.

"To be fair, you got shit faced." Tim chuckles, sipping a mug of coffee. "You are a good singer though kept asking for the admiral, which I now know is a cat. You also drunk called your ex, which was great. I have her number, and she also wants you to call her back and rejoin a mechanism chat, which I don't know what that is, and she won't tell me. She also thinks I married you since you kept blabbering about being married and then Martin and then how you're not a dog person while cuddling Martin. I didn't want to out Martin, so I told her we're married." He slides a trash can over so Jon can spill his guts.

Jon looks like a pathetic cat as he looks up from the trash can. "Did I keep you here all night?" He sits up, letting Martin get up and stretch.

Martin takes off his skin. "It wasn't that bad. You're a very cuddly drunk. Georgie seems very kind."

"Yeah, I'm the ass in everything." Jon sighs.

"You don't have to explain what she already did, and honestly, you need to get better at communicating even now." Tim helps Jon up. "Also, I think she recorded a few videos of your drinking cuddling singing."

Jon groans. "I already know who she sent that too." He sighs. "Sorry for ruining movie night."

"Are you kidding me? I have blackmail for days, and I got a new friend." Tim chuckles.

Martin hums. "You're very good with your hands in my fur, and you didn't throw up on me, so I count that as a win." He chuckles. "You're also not that heavy. I forgot you were there when I got up. I had to reposition you so you weren't completely on the floor."

Jon blushes. "I'm never drinking again."

"Aw, don't say that. We had fun." Tim laughs as Jon hits his side. "Aw, come on, you were great fun and entertainment. Also, why did you name a cat the admiral?"

"He's a distinguished cat." Jon huffs. "I'm using your shower."

Martin chuckles. "You wanted to name the street rat cheese, Tim."

"It's a practical name." Tim huffs.

.....

Sasha raised her brow at the scene in front of her. Martin was curled up in the breakroom currently in his skin, and that fox from that day in the woods was sleeping on top of him. Well, that fox had one eye open, looking annoyed at her. So the other selkie worked here, that was good to know, but right now, she really wanted the snacks in the fridge she brought, and Martin was quite literally blocking access to the fridge. She clears her throat. "Um, Martin, could you maybe move?"

The fox had both eyes open and stretched. Jumping down the fox batted at Martin's snout, which woke him. The fox paused for a moment, tilting his head.

Martin huffed and got up with a big stretch. He nodded and padded out of the room and the fox followed.

"Um, thanks." Sasha watches Martin head into Jon's office and a short protest from Jon, then quiet. She got her yogurt and stepped into Jon's office to find Jon being laid on by Martin, and the fox had taken Jon's chest to curl up.

Jon sighs. "Who's the fox?"

"No idea." Sasha shrugs. "But I guess you're in time out."

"I was going to take a break." Jon sighs as Martin huffs. "Tim was getting me lunch."

Martin curls tight around Jon's legs.

"Fine, fine." Jon sighs. "Seriously though, who is this fox?"

"I really don't know, but I think it's the same one from the forest, with that big sailor guy." Sasha pauses as the fox lets out a laugh. "I forgot foxes can mimic human laughter."

......

"Are you alright?" Martin hums softly in Jonah's mind. They both were ignoring the conversation above them.

"I was born female, originally, and I'm starting to get things from my original body." Jonah sounds uncomfortable.

"Do you believe yourself to be male?" Martin stretches.

"Of course I do." Jonah huffs.

"Then you're male." Martin responds, yawning. "Most nonhuman creatures can switch genders or develop the opposite gender sex for their body while still having the old around. Hence, most supernatural species are intersex or change their sex on a whim. My father gave me a very descriptive sex ed course. You'll just have both parts, so have your partner wear a condom unless you want kids."

Jonah perks up, hopping off Jon's chest to Martin's back. "It's that easy?"

"Mmh, I guess." Martin had a hint of a smirk in his tone. "Is that why you came down here to risk outing yourself?"

"Shut up." Jonah huffs curling up on Martin. "So about the marriage thing."

"You're not married to Peter, well you are the human way." Martin hums softly. "Did your plan not work?"

"Apparently not. Unfortunately, I will have to try again." Jonah sighs. "Your other mate is here."

"Look at you already using correct terms." Martin hums fondly. "I've been meaning to ask besides from the adjustment. Are you ok?"

Jonah stretches out. "As well as I can be, I've been human jumping bodies for a good 200 years. I can't exactly continue that for a long time, nor do any of my other plans I've been devoting during that time." He sounds only mildly bitter. "I underestimated you."

"You did." Martin muses. "Your hormones and instincts will even out soon enough, and you'll feel normal again."

"Will I go back to being your boss?" Jonah hufs hearing a laugh from Martin.

"Legally, you are my boss, but that's only for humanity's gaze. Realistically, we are going to be on equal footing since we are in the same pack." Martin gets up off of Jon to let him eat. "Will my mates be in the pack? I don't know way too early to tell if they both will physically change."

Jonah rides on Martin's back curiosity, tugging at his mind, and he knows his eyes are glowing green. "What do you mean?"

"It's rare, but there are records written by humans losing their humanity, of course. However in rare cases selkie true marriages from returning their skin does have a chance to infect their new marriage partner or mate to turn into a selkie the animal is random but it has been recorded again by said humans." Martin stops in the breakroom curling back up. "It's only been three weeks at most for us way too early to see if anything like that would happen. However, if it happens in one pack, all the members who get human mates they will change as well."

"Fascinating." Jonah hums. "Tell me more."

Martin smiles. "Alright, I will until Peter finds you."

"He won't go down here." Jonah sounds smug. "I highly doubt he cares enough to get out of his comfort zone."

Martin tilts his head, looking back at the fox. "You care for him, but he doesn't for you?

"It's not his nature to care about others." Jonah sounds disappointed. "It's just his nature and how he was raised. Just because I love him doesn't mean he would ever return the feelings."

"Is that why you want the marriage?" Martin rests his head on the floor.

"That and not becoming a slave sounds nice." Jonah curls up tightly on top of Martin. "So information."

"Ok, but again, my father is better at this than I am he's older than both of us." Martin shuts his eyes, and starts to explain what he knows.

.......

Stomping and then the doors to the archives are flung open. The burly, strong sailor man rushed inside. He has worries on his features. His voice did match his imposing figure. "I'm looking for e-j- a fox."

Tim nearly spit out his drink at the entrance. "I uh..." He gave a look to Sasha.

"Breakroom." Sasha answers, giving a look to Tim. As the man shifts awkwardly before Tim points at the closed door.

The man rushed forward, nearly taking the door off the handle. "You!" He stared at the fox who was asleep and the wolf under him who was also asleep. He grabbed the fox, waiting them up as he huffed. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you? How many people I had to talk to you, horrible creature."

The fox growls for a moment before staring at the man and twists till feet hit the floor, and Jonah is dusting himself off. "Honestly, Peter, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Taking care of yourself? J- Elias, you've been gone for two hours." Peter huffs. "You told me we had to have lunch and you weren't there."

"You actually went to look for me?" Jonah raised his brow.

"Yes!" Peter pinches his brow. "You've done nothing but cause me a headache while I had to actually look for you and interact with others." He was looking a bit transparent, and Jonah knew that reflected how anxious he felt.

"You were worried about me?" Jonah tilted his head.

Peter sighs and grabs Jonah's arm. "Yes, don't get a big head, you awful little man." He tugs him out of the archives.

"I thought Martin was joking about Elias." Sasha pursed her lips.

"You knew!" Tim whipped his head to stare at Sasha.

"Martin made a comment about it, but yeah, that's the skin he was looking for." Sasha pauses. "Wait, that means that man was his husband."

"Oh fuck that's Peter Lukas?" Tim blinks. "Fuck I thought those rumors of Elias being a sugar baby were just to fuck with me."

Jon pokes his head out of the office. "Im sorry the fox is Elias? Elias was on my chest?"

Martin yawns. "He's still dealing with the rush of hormones and instincts. He was also mirroring my behavior, like how cats and many other animals do."

Jon frowns. "I uh oh..."

"Being without your skin for a long time can be jarring once you get it back. So his body is adjusting, and his mind is catching up. There's also other factors, but I won't share that it's personal. He is a part of my pack, though since I returned his skin... our pack is the correct term. He asked me not to tell you guys." Martin sighs. "He didn't account for his human husband to get worried about him."

"Oh." Tim sighs. "Be nice to the guy. I can tell that it's personal and frankly embarrassing."

"Tim is right it's incredibly personal and he's seeking comfort, and even though he's older than me in the span of our lives it's not really that important we are in equal footing so he daughter me out for comfort." Martin sighs. "Try not to mention it."

Tim, Sasha, and Jon share a glance, and all nod at Martin.

......

"Peter, you are absolutely awful." Jonah huffs from his desk as Peter pushes a take out container towards him.

"Well, I improvised for lunch." Peter huffs poking his food that was getting cold. Emotions swam in his head with the realization of what he did just to find Jonah. He threw out every lesson his own mother drilled onto his skull for a man he didn't even know if he loved. He doesn't even know what love meant. Nobody taught him, and he was getting too old to ask. He enjoyed the stupid reality TV shows and the awful way he would talk about his work and his patron. He looked forward to the promise of adopting a fourth cat. He likes the old-fashioned way the other man cooked even if it was way too spiced, and he never understood where he got that from. He loved the stupid little arguements and the wagers between them. He liked jonah and not his body even if he was pankcking about the different parts. He enjoyed him as James and.... it's as if a stone dropped in his stomach as something clicked. "Oh."

Jonah raised his brow eating the cold noodles. "Peter, it's not about lunch, although I am grateful it seems I've forgotten to eat breakfast in my haste to get to work. Why would you even go out of your way to look for me? I am not foolish enough to leave my skin unattended in my office." He rolls his eyes.

Peter swallows, and the weight in his stomach seems to get heavier, and his appetite is completely gone. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Is that stupid cooking show you like on tonight?"

"You can't call it stupid if you watch it with me." Jonah huffs. "Whatever, eat your food."

Peter numbly picks up his food and eats slowly, afraid to look away from Jonah as if he'll forget what he looks like if he steps back into his patron. Is this what Forsaken wanted? To feed on him? He doesn't want to go back, which is a realization that sends chills down his spine.

Jonah hums, finishing his food. "Although I am mad at you for this stunt, I want you to stay tonight since you're leaving tomorrow." He sighs. "Peter, are you even listening to me?"

Peter nods mutely. "Yes, I'll stay the night."

"Good." Jonah smiles softly. "The next time you'll be back longer, right?"

"Yes, a few months." Peter wanted to say forever, but he couldn't let the words leave his tongue.

"I suppose I'll have to wait till then." Jonah sighs.

#tma podcast #tma #selkie au #jonah magnus #peter lukas #lonelyeyes #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james

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squeeneyart · 1 year

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 31

AO3

Jon caves to his curiosity in the empty house.

Who was this woman he'd searched for?

Jon woke to the shock of an empty bed.

It couldn’t have been long since Martin left. Of course without the mobile on the nightstand there was no telling the time, but dull morning light hadn’t yet dragged itself through the cloud cover to reach the bedroom floor. Considering their physical arrangement, Martin must’ve taken great pains to let Jon rest. Had it involved gently prying Jon off of him, scooting quietly to the edge of the bed, leaving Jon to sleep off the previous evening in peace?

A kind gesture if so, but the sheets beside him held no leftover warmth.

He slipped out of bed and walked rather hurriedly out of the room, passing the upstairs toilet. Dark. If it weren’t for the still air of that house he might’ve assumed it to be the dead of night, but no, as he made his way downstairs Jon didn’t hear anyone shuffling around the kitchen. He didn’t hear much of anything as he approached the foyer, ignoring the downstairs toilet and its neighbor, both shut tight.

Jacket and shoes were gone. Bag too. He’d gone to work, obviously.

Cracking open the front door revealed the beach. Jon shivered as he scanned what he could see of the horizon, dark strip atop dark strip, finding no still figure in the mist. Yes, Martin had gone to work, or had made it far enough that Jon couldn’t see him.

He closed the door, glaring at the beach through the protection of solid wood. “No point in getting spirited away,” Jon muttered and circled back to the kitchen.

Without switching on the lights he approached the kitchen window. It took a good amount of squinting, but he thought he could see the trail winding up between the trees. Maybe. Or his eyes were filling in what he knew to be there, just out of reach.

He couldn’t go back to sleep, too aware of the cold that already seeped through the bedsheets. Turning, he looked into the dark mouth leading to the living room. It didn’t give a perfect view, but similar to the kitchen its window gave him a way to watch for anyone coming from the cliffs once the sun decided to show its face.

Which was hours away.

Jon walked onto the worn carpet and paused. The thought of bringing the laptop down for what had become a mockery of research made him want to bang his head against the wall. Should he watch something in that collection of tapes by the television? Dull his mind for just a moment with whatever reruns of game shows he could find flipping through channels? Should he draft his whole life story so when Tim and Sasha came he could hand them a piece of paper with a note reading please do not use this against me?

He rubbed his hands over his arms, barely protected by the t-shirt he’d slept in. Decisions were easier to make when someone was there to tell you that you’d made the right choice. All he had at the moment was a house empty enough to hold every doubt that had him looking over his shoulder.

Hours to fill with nothing but cursory internet searches, doors shut tight for good reason. It was enough to make him claw at the walls. Maybe if he just kept moving…

Back in the hall. Front door would remain shut. As would the downstairs toilet, doubly so. Upstairs to the attic which he’d already rooted through once since he’d hidden himself away. A backroom, again already inspected in a fit of paranoia as he tried to find a suitable hiding place for his skin. Better for Martin not to know the state he’d been in that night.

And the closed door next to the downstairs toilet, unopened since he arrived. He knew what it was, conceptually. He knew who it had belonged to. When he’d learnt of her flight from this place, it had scratched at the back of his mind with frantic visions of a woman he’d never met, dead at the hands of her son and rotting behind a locked door. But it wasn’t locked. He knew this because he’d turned the door knob deep into his first night, cracking the door open an inch before shutting it tight in a moment of clarity.

There was no rot in that room. If he had to take a guess from that quick peek into the dark, all that remained was furniture and dust.

His hand gripped the door knob.

There was no finding her outside, in the sea. Martin didn’t need him to, and he couldn’t afford the risk. But he was without answers and Martin was-

The knob turned without ease or great resistance; the door opened like an ordinary old door, dragging slightly on the carpet. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the hall light in his wandering state and groped for a light switch but settled for the string of a small table lamp.

Dust was right. A bed sat in the middle of the left hand wall, duvet rumpled and retaining the absence of a person. Worn slippers were pushed slightly under the bed next to a discarded bathrobe. Curtains rested half-drawn in front of a window with only half a view of the sea, butting up against nearby trees and that wooden frame deteriorating at the side of the house. The chest of drawers near the door was newer and of lightweight material, as was the side table, but novelty saved neither from the layer of grey.

His flat probably didn’t fare much better in his absence, and at least this place wasn’t ransacked to hell. A few drawers hung open, somewhat full when examined. Jon gently pushed them into place. He’d almost moved to the half-open closet when he saw the very edge of a piece of paper shoved between the dresser leg and the floor. It was a heavy piece of furniture and it was all Jon could do to pull some of it away, tearing it off at the corner.

Divorce paperwork, served to Martin’s mother. The rest of it might’ve been under the furniture, or thrown in the trash years ago. It was difficult to tell if it had ended up in that spot on purpose or was lost in the shuffle of life.

The skin had remained with her when her husband left for good. Was it a final courtesy to a relationship that had fallen apart? Had he meant to take it with him? Or was it of no interest to him? Unbidden, Martin’s form in the kitchen doorway came to mind, face a mask of shock and nausea.

He shoved the paperwork back under the dresser.

Standing up, he walked to the closet and was met with hanging dresses and jackets now abandoned. By the way his nose itched Jon guessed they’d been untouched for much longer than a couple of weeks. With the steep incline of the cliffs it was a wonder they’d stayed in such a place.

“Did he not want the house? It’s not a happy place, so it wouldn’t be out of the question that he’d leave it behind as well,” Jon said to the fabric, destined for moths. “You didn’t take any clothes, not enough for a permanent stay on land. Planning to spend your final days in the sea, maybe? Or you had somewhere to swim to.”

It became clear after a few minutes of searching that the shallow closet held no clues. He wasn’t sure he was going to find much about the woman herself, let alone where she would flee to. And what selkie would leave a trace that others not in the know could follow?

He turned to the bed, crouching to search below. A pair of slippers and a shallow box shoved all the way to the back. Dropping to his stomach, he wiggled underneath and dragged the box into the lamplight.

Papers. It held countless pages and scraps of paper, some stapled together in threes or fours, others left to fend for themselves in a sea of potential papercuts. At least in this he found solid ground, digging through barely-legible notes. A lot barely started, crossed out, a miracle they weren’t tossed. But he had enough of his own useless audio notes to not judge this particular habit. After a few duds, someone asking about another’s day, local gossip, etcetera, he found a letter that started:

‘Paula, I’m at my limit. He needs someone to set a good example, to make him a good, loyal husband for whatever girl finds him worth her time. But it can’t be me. I can hardly look at him-’

Everything after was crossed out and then eventually torn away. The paper was old, at least a few years, crumpled and tossed in this box, never for whoever Paula was to see. Too old to be useful, and too much to think about. He could ignore it.

Similar notes followed, addressed to the same name. ‘You’ve been a kind ear since he left-’ ‘Seeing him every day, it’s going to drive me mad-’ ‘He’s almost eighteen. None of me in him. What else can I do?’

Over and over, letters without conclusions on a topic he’d been stewing on for the last week, only to find it so mundane and hurtful he had half a mind to shove it all back under the bed. And sifting through, no last name ever came up, just Paula ad infinitum. Someone in town, perhaps? Martin might know, but then how would he explain knowing the first name? Or a person she once knew, the remnant of a former life? He continued his search, tucking the name away for later. At the very least it was someone involved in this whole familial mess.

Then, in between the pleas the writer (Martin’s mother, no point in being coy about it once Martin’s name appeared more than once instead of the boy or his son), a detour. A photo. An old, old photo, yellow and fading.

Two young individuals, one smiling bright, the other subdued but not unhappy. Did the second look like Martin? With winter hoods pulled tight over the subjects’ heads and having never seen his mother, there was no way to be sure. But the rocky beach behind was unmistakable.The first looped their arm around the other’s, pulling their heads close together to fit in frame.

He stared at them both, resting on his knees. No seal skins in the photo, of course, but… On the other side of the photo, a note read, ‘When you’re ready, I’ll be far north, around the-’ Here, a pen did its job and completely obliterated the word. Jon cursed and almost tore the photo in two out of frustration. Instead, he finished reading, ‘It won’t do well to make me wait!’

How long did they last?

The photo should’ve made him feel something else. A kindred pull, or… But he didn’t know these people. With shaking hands, Jon shoved the photo down to the bottom.

Then, in the middle of another letter, a digression.

‘The cliffs feel so much taller. Could be the aches in my legs. How long has the beach been a bait trap? It wasn’t so when I was a girl. Not when my father made his living.’

Stuffing this note into his pocket, Jon consumed every word of every other note with a manic fury. He reread letters, searched for hidden messages, scoured the box for any other notes in that handwriting and almost came up with nothing. An old woman writing to an unknowing recipient like a diary .One pause just to grab the laptop from upstairs, then he dove back in, taking notes of the most minute references to an old woman’s feeling that something had gone wrong. That something had changed.

‘The house is empty now, but for us. It doesn’t make a difference.’

‘I don’t think I will be coming to town anymore. It doesn’t help, and it all makes my head hurt.’

‘When did it stop feeling like my home? My family’s home?’

He closed the box, stuffed it under his arm, and stumbled out the door.

Back in Martin’s room, Jon opened the laptop and began a new recording. He opened with the small section of writing he pocketed, then continued on, “This is just one of many notes found in Mrs. Blackwood’s bedroom, being the most prominent to the matter at hand. She’d felt something change. Perhaps it was a reaction to her increasingly limited mobility at first, but why a bait trap? Why those words? This feels less old than the others, but with modern paper it’s impossible to-”

He breathed in slowly, then out again. “I don’t like it. I don’t like this place, and I don’t like what it may want from us. We can only hope to make a quick exit once the lighthouse is either dealt with or proven too big for us, property ownership be damned.”

Tapping his fingers on the empty section of bed beside him, Jon glanced out the window. His little investigation had lasted quite a while, but it would still be long before Martin returned. “This was her family’s house. Hers, not her husband’s. Does that mean anything? Is it normal for her family to stay on land for multiple generations? How far back did this start?”

Martin should know about the box. He took it in his hands, felt the light, shifting paper inside and all of its weight. He eyed the metal waste bin nearby.

The notes lingered in his thoughts the rest of the day, all of them sitting under Martin’s bed in wait for their demise or salvation. But it was something he could act on, so it was a good burden for a day.

His final notes, spoken into the laptop, “Based on context and handwriting, everything outside of the photograph was written by Martin’s mother. All letters, all unsent.”

By the time Martin returned Jon already sat at the living room window. Near the end Jon had submitted to the view of grey skies and crashing waves, standing up every ten minutes or so to shake away the creeping sensation of no one at all. He hadn’t seen Martin emerge from the treeline, must’ve missed him when clearing his head, but there he was with hair wet from the evening mist and bag hanging limp from his shoulder.

It wasn’t a happy sight, but Jon breathed out in relief, forehead against the cool glass. He heard the front door open and poked his head out into the hall.

“You’re back,” Jon said.

A slow blink. “Oh. Hi,” Martin said.

“Hi,” Jon replied. “Everything all right?”

“As best as it can be?” Martin said, smiling weakly. He lifted a brown paper bag out from under his coat. “Brought home takeout.”

It was warming at least to share some cheap takeout on the couch, though Martin’s exhaustion was palpable. More than once during their show did he catch Martin’s eyes glaze over or begin to droop. Waiting could be easier, but what were the chances that he would be more awake the night after?

It was after just one episode that Jon spoke up.

“Martin?”

“Hm?” Martin jerked slightly, blinking some of the impending sleep away.

“I have a confession to make. I went through your mother’s things.”

“...What?” Somehow, this didn’t perk him up.

“Her room. I went through her room and found a box of letters and other notes, crossed out or torn or- It’s somewhat personal, but I found a reference to someone waiting for her and something I think might be important to this place, and I wanted to-”

“Jon.”

“Yes?”

“You can burn them.”

Jon froze, hand frozen halfway between them.

Martin continued, “‘S dangerous, right? Even if she crossed things out, it’s better no one has a trail to follow her with.”

It was a sound argument, and matched entirely with Jon’s gut reaction. “Are you certain you don’t want to look?”

“I didn’t go looking for them, did I?” Martin asked. He didn’t snap, was too unfocused to be anything other than calm. “You said there’s something important?”

“I…” Jon looked down at the box. “I already took notes on what felt relevant. A reference to the strange nature of this place, some other things. Otherwise it’s all personal, I-I think.””

“Then the rest can go. I know my mum well enough to guess what she wrote about.”

“We can wait until you’re… more awake to discuss it.”

A shrug. “They’re not for me. Do what you think is right.”

Jon grimaced. “I…I’ll take care of it, then.”

With a nod, Martin took his plate to the kitchen and left Jon to his thoughts. Too much space for that these days.

Still, it was decided. As he finished and brought his own plate to wash, he hazarded a look at Martin’s face. Impassive.

Perhaps it was for the best, Jon thought as he trudged upstairs. Once in the bathroom, he sifted once more through the bin until he found for whatever girl finds him worth her time and set it alight. The rest of the paper went together. Finally the photograph was torn to pieces and sacrificed to the flame. None of it was his to keep. This woman was never part of his life and most likely wouldn’t have had an interest in him. Still, he wished this act stirred more inside him, that something could make destroying documents he’d have been desperate for weeks prior less of an anticlimax.

The smiling faces were gone and Jon walked downstairs to an empty kitchen. An empty living room. An empty toilet, door unopened with no light peeking from underneath. Jon walked to Martin’s mother’s room and knocked, cracking it open to find the same empty space.

Then he bolted to the front door and wrenched it open to find Martin standing, staring with his back to the house.

“Martin?” Jon asked, stepping out onto the wood with bare feet. “You should come back inside.”

He sighed, not turning around. “It’s fine. I just needed a minute.”

“I’m sure it’s been more than a minute,” Jon growled, sending a useless glare out into the night. He grabbed Martin’s elbow and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind them. “What were you thinking?”

He was met with the same blank mask. “I wanted some air.”

Dragging a hand down his face, Jon asked, “Did something compel you?”

“Wh-no, I just-”

“There’s no ‘I just’ here. If I can keep myself inside the whole damned day, you shouldn’t have a problem doing the same for a few hours. So if something feels out of your control-”

“Christ, I stepped outside!” Martin exclaimed. “Maybe I want to stand on my own damned porch without it being the end of the world!”

Jon took a step back, arms crossed. “It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“My mum was fine for years,” Martin said, rubbing his arms.

“You-”

“I know I don’t know that! I-” Shoulders hunched forward, Martin averted his eyes. “I think…I need to sleep.”

It wasn’t a win, but it would have to do for now. He placed a hand on Martin’s back and led him upstairs, kicking himself for not cleaning up after the box and ashes. Martin seemed happy to ignore them, though, completing the nightly routine with no mention of it.

Once he was done Jon gestured towards the bedroom. “I’ll be a bit, but not long.”

Once he’d sent Martin on his way, Jon stepped into the upstairs toilet and cleaned up any stray bits of ash or paper he’d missed. No notes remained tucked into a corner of the room or the box he’d found. He broke down the box, shoved it in with the trash downstairs,and called it complete. She wouldn’t be found by someone with more clues than him. She wouldn’t be found.

By the time he entered the bedroom, lights were turned off. Martin sat in bed and stared at his mobile, only looking up when Jon cleared his throat. For the briefest moment his eyes seemed to flash in the hall light and the faintest sense of recognition bloomed in Jon’s chest. Then the moment was gone.

He’d paused in the doorway long enough that Martin spoke up. “Are you sleeping here or…”

“Yes. Sorry,” Jon said, smiling a little as he closed the door and slid beside him.

Martin scooted over to make space. “You don’t have to, you know. It’s early.”

Jon waved a hand dismissively. “Easier to keep to your schedule. I have plenty of time to myself during the day.”

Martin laid down, fingers laced over his stomach.

Following suit, Jon pressed his face into Martin’s arm and hooked cold fingers through Martin’s elbow. “I wrote down what I thought was important, if you ever….”

“Mm.”

Sleep didn’t come immediately, kept away not by the dread of the outside but by eyes that shone in the light of his torch, and two people smiling into the camera.

Jon stood at the edge of the water, his toes just out of reach of the grasping waves. Without glancing back he knew Martin stood behind him, looking past Jon’s shoulder at the choppy waters.

“Do you think we should get inside?” Jon asked, watching the waves grow larger in the distance. Cold lapped over the top of his feet, and he shivered.

Martin inhaled quietly and said nothing.

“I wouldn’t mind it. It’s too cold out here.”

Exhale.

Jon turned around, the water reaching his ankles. “Martin?”

He still stood just out of reach, eyes blank behind dark frames. The house loomed tall, taller than it ever should be, and empty over his shoulder. A gaping mouth, the front door swung in the gale.

“Let’s go inside.” Jon reached out a hand for Martin to take, but it was left to hover as Martin turned and walked up the rocky shore.

The water brushed up against his mid-calf as he attempted to follow, clinging so hard to his skin that he couldn’t lift his leg.

“Martin, wait, something’s- something’s wrong-” He grabbed at his knee with both hands and yanked upwards. Nothing. The water clung, nearly tearing the skin for the effort he put into pulling. Looking up, Jon yelled again, “Would you-”

The man continued to walk and reached the front steps of the empty house without turning.

Something began to crack in his chest. Another yank, but the water swelled and pulled him down by the hands, forcing him onto his knees. He looked up, sweat and sea dripping down his face. “Please! Whatever is going-”

Martin stopped just short of the empty blackness of his home and turned to look over his shoulder. From that distance Jon could barely see the expression on his face, if there was one at all. It was too far to tell anymore. But he’d stopped. Maybe-

The water was at his neck. He couldn’t even wrench his hands above the water to flail, but he had to see, had to hear, had to have enough of himself above water for Martin to grab.

Martin’s mouth moved.

The water dragged him down, filling his eyes and lungs with salt.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #selkie au #celebrates first day post-top surgery recovery with a BITS #curses should be on it's way soon

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