#short martin!!! jon with a belly!!! they look so soft and safe... finally...

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

Good evening tma fans I’m back with more ace jonmartin content (that is also posted to AO3). Set during the safehouse because it’s good for Conversations. Have at thee:

Jon loves Martin. He has for so long now that it feels like it’s always been the truth, like if you were to go back to the start of the world, there would lie a stone with two names carved side by side, belonging there even millennia before their existence. It feels like a fact etched into his very bones, so deeply grounding that the force of it alone was enough to tear through the veil of fog and supernatural loneliness and bring him out unscathed, and with his prize. Orpheus reversed. A love stronger than Loneliness. A truth imprinted on his heart. Jon loves Martin.

And Martin knows, too. He saw the way Jon felt about him, the way he knew him with such love, the way he remembered him so thoroughly it was able to bring him back to himself after months of nothingness. He knows the curtain of the Lonely doesn’t part for just anyone. And then, of course, Jon has taken his hand and held it to his chest and wept his affections not a day later, when the tide finally broke and all of his despair and trust came tumbling out at once, and Martin’s still fog-rimmed eyes spilled over with tears and they held each other as confession after confession poured from each of them. Jon had told Martin he loved him so many times his throat had hurt, and Martin had held him so tightly his arms had shaken. Jon loves Martin, and Martin loves him in return, just as fiercely. Being loved is slowly starting to come naturally to Martin again.

The point is, though, that Jon loves Martin. And Martin knows. Which means at some point, they are going to have to talk about It.

Jon has avoided talking about It for years. He talked about it with Georgie, of course. She had been the one to help him gather more words to describe it. Asexual, sex repulsed, uninterested, etc.

It hadn’t always mattered, though. Not everyone was willing to care about something they saw as trivial, something he was still desperately trying to convince himself wasn’t trivial. And there were always the rare few who saw it as a challenge. Some days, the hope that he would be fully respected and loved for who he was seemed like a lost cause.

But he knows better now. He knows himself well enough to be certain, even these days, when grasping onto his very humanity feels like trying to drink from a mirage. He is certain about this, though. This has been long, long something he’s known about himself; a truth that he will acknowledge as nothing but the truth. A part of him. It is something to be proud of. Something he deserves to be loved for. And it is also something he very much so needs to communicate with Martin.

It hasn’t really come up yet, not since their frantic packing and desperate drive all the way to Scotland, Jon clinging onto the passenger assist grip as Martin does his best to get them there quickly, and then their exhausted unpacking in the safehouse, and the emotionally draining last few days they’ve had. It’s overwhelming, being in each other’s constant company, in a way that largely feels utterly mundane.

They gather groceries together at the shop, brush hands over plates at the sink, curl up together to ward off the nightmares in bed, do their best to clean every inch of the house they can reach, and try to acclimatize to each other as the days continue. Martin is still breaking himself into connection; sometimes halting too sharply in his words, sometimes forgetting to speak for hours at a time, shifting invisible when he gets distracted enough, and Jon is still hesitant, not quite sure what to do to make it better, not quite sure if a false step will make it worse. He’d go back into the Lonely for Martin a thousand times if it meant saving him, but he doesn’t want Martin to lose himself again. Most times, Martin is as vibrant as his early days at the institute, but on others Jon still catches whiffs of the sterilized smell of the Lonely in Martin’s wake. Those times, his hands always linger on Martin’s as they brush. Every moment has been full of comfort, of the reassurance that they are both still there, of light topics, and of forgiveness when it is needed.

Jon loves Martin. He wants Martin to know. There just hasn’t been the right chance for it yet.

He’s convinced himself to just let it come up naturally whenever Martin is free enough of the fog to let himself sink into open affection, but, as it turns out, he needn’t have agonized about it.

It’s a good day for Martin, today. He’s been talkative, warm, and his eyes are shining with that look that’s so hopelessly earnest and alive it makes Jon’s heart want to beat entirely out of his chest. They’ve taken the day to trade questions and answers over cooking and cleaning and relaxing, and now, as Martin slides tonight’s meal into the oven, he decides the questions aren’t quite over. 

“So, Jon,” Martin begins from the kitchen, in a tone that’s so genuinely casual it's almost surprising. “What are your thoughts on sex?”

Jon blinks in utter surprise, torn away from his book with a start as the words register in his head. His traitorous stomach drops out of habit. Oh, Christ. Is this it? Are they doing this now? Is he ready for this? His hands hesitate over the page he’s bookmarked with his thumb, not sure if this is just going to be a simple answer, or if Martin means this as a gateway to a full conversation about the topic. “L-Like, in general?”

“I mean, there was gossip at the Institute,” Martin offers apologetically, ducking his head and wiping his hands on a towel. He looks slightly sheepish from where Jon can see him. “Some talk about you and Basira awhile back, for a bit, and later Melanie mentioned something about you just not, but both of those were, y’know, gossip, and I just realized I’ve never actually asked you personally what your feelings were on the matter, so… yeah. In general.” As he rambles, he makes his way over to the couch where Jon is sitting, bending down to rest his arms on the back of it. His face is open and curious, but not oppressively so. Jon has to fight the familiar urge to set all thought and action aside to simply stare at him. 

Jon instead puts his book off to the side and inhales. This is a conversation that deserves his full attention.

“Well,” he fumbles for a place to start. He hasn’t perfected a speech, doesn’t have all the proper sources planned, but he might as well start by giving Martin the honesty he deserves; the kind Jon has been preparing for. “I… suppose generally opposed? I-I mean, not for-“ He bites back the word “normal” as he stutters over his explanation, trying not to feel like he’s pulling his own teeth as he speaks. His own words feel somehow foreign to him, even more so these days, but for Martin, he’s trying. “Not for other people, I mean, but for me? I’m really just not interested. Too much …touching and exposure and- and noises? Not to mention all the expectations it comes with. Honestly, it… sounds kind of dreadful.”

Martin makes a small noise of attentiveness. “Never tried it, then?”

Jon goes sort of cold, all over, a bone deep chill curling deep inside his gut, and he has to manually force himself to unfreeze and choose his words carefully. “I have not. And I can’t quite say I’d have any interest in doing so.” His tone is clipped, defensive, and cold. He tries to keep himself from glaring out of habit.

“Why do you sound so—“ Martin’s tone starts teasing, and then breaks off as he catches a glance of Jon’s terrified expression and his eyes widen. “OH!! Oh, no, I wasn’t- sorry, that came out wrong. I was just curious to sort of… compare experiences, I wasn’t implying any sort of… no.” He waves a hand as if to physically dismiss Jon’s anxiety. “Never having tried it is fine. Good, even! Good on you for knowing your boundaries. I’m happy for that.” He rambles. “That’s wonderful. Sorry.”

Jon flushes slightly in embarrassment that he misread the tone, but his chest loosens a bit. No one has ever told him that before, and it feels… nothing short of radical. Safe. “It’s- it’s alright, Martin.” Jon drums his fingers against the book cover resting against his belly for a moment, his thoughts shifting to wonder what the point to the conversation is if not to… well… he shoos away theories. This is Martin, he can just ask. “What do you mean ‘compare experiences’?” He sits up more, now curious himself. “Martin, do you… what are your thoughts on it? Sex, I mean. In general.” It always comes out sounding much more academic than he intends, and he pursues his lips against his own pronunciation, even though Martin doesn’t seem to notice. 

Martin blinks a bit. “Oh! Hm. Well, it’s— I suppose a bit complicated? I dunno.” He rubs a hand over the back of his head, brushing through the regrowing hair at the nape of his neck. “If it makes the other person happy then, yeah I’m all for it, but it’s more of just… an activity to me, I guess? Never really been quite my favorite one either, to be perfectly honest.” The chuckle he gives sounds just shy of self-depreciating, and Jon finds himself reaching a hand up to catch Martin’s for reassurance. Martin takes it, gives a slight squeeze. “That’s not to say that I’ve had a bad experience, necessarily? I just… I’d rather be closer in other ways.” He shrugs, and his eyes drop. “Feels kind of weird, honestly. Knowing I’ve done it. I mean, I always figured I’m not really the kind of person you’d assume to be having it, and I’m fine with that. I dunno.”

The loosening thing in Jon’s chest unfurls completely, melting into affection. “Oh, Martin.” He hesitates, thinking, before looking up and giving Martin a very curious look. “You’re… like me, aren’t you?”

Martin looks up and meets his eyes dead on, as a small, shy smile pulls at his lips, his eyes going warm and soft before he ducks away, somewhat hiding his face. “Yeah, I think so.”

Jon loves Martin.

“What’s…” Jon’s face flushes, but he’s already spoken the first word aloud, and he doubts his curiosity will allow him to back out, so he clears his throat and continues on. “You said you’d rather be closer to people in o-other ways?” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “What might those be?”

Martin squishes his face in that adorable way he does when he’s thinking, lips pressing together in a little motion that Jon can’t help but find hopelessly endearing. “I guess… doing things for people? Something to let them know that you really see them,” his eyes dart to Jon for a half a moment as he says that, before continuing on. “or… I dunno. Activities together? Spending time with someone is always nice. And…hugs, honestly.” He laughs at himself, but Jon is listening intently. “I know that sounds kind of silly, I know, but…”

“It’s not silly,” Jon interrupts, pushing himself up into a standing position, a look of softness coming across his face as he latches onto an idea and softens with everything in him. “In that case, Martin, can I…?” He’s standing up from the couch, and walking around to the back, arms opening in a hesitant invitation. Martin’s eyes widen, and then soften.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, of course.”

Jon loves Martin. He wants to show him in all the ways he can, and so Jon wraps his arms around Martin, one hand reaching up to stroke through his hair, fingers catching on his curls, while the other pulls his chest tight with Jon’s, heartbeats resonating in sync. Martin’s hands come to rest on the small of Jon’s back, and, despite his height, he exhales slowly in relaxation.

He fidgets after a second, signaling the polite time for an embrace to end, but Jon just wraps his arms around him tighter, pressing his nose into Martin’s neck, and running his hand through his hair until Martin finally stops waiting for it to end, and lets himself relax into it. His arms loosen around Jon’s waist, but he drops his head against Jon’s shoulder, and Jon does everything he can to make Martin feel wrapped up in the enormity of his own affection. Martin lets out a sigh into his shoulder, and Jon’s heart swells in its lopsided rib cage. He wishes he could replace the missing ribs with Martin, to keep him closer to his heart, or better yet, to do away with the whole thing altogether, and simply trust Martin to take his chest in his hands.

Safe. He wants to keep Martin safe. And he trusts Martin to keep him safe as well. He drags a hand over his back, trying to fit as much protectiveness he can into the gesture. You are so loved, he wants it to say. Nothing can hurt you. There’s no expectations in the embrace, no pressure or next step. It’s just this moment, just heartbeats, just Jon making space for Martin in his arms. It’s perfect.

“This is nice.” Martin murmurs, nothing more than a soft exhale, and Jon loves him more than he knows how to understand.