The Weekend Arrangement

Burning in Your Atmosphere

Martin is nervous. He shouldn't be, the invitation was forthright; and the promises were clearly alluded to if not spoken plainly.

"More. Bring an overnight. I can have you..." Those were Jon's own words.

Still, Martin hesitates; gripping tightly to a faded canvas bag and shuffling his feet. This is far more than he ever thought would be offered; the rumours at work were that Jon- just doesn't. He's so very handsome, and plenty of other Magnus employees had made passes, and all of them had been roundly rebuffed.

Now that the offer is there- he's nervous. Nervous and excited. It's been a very long time since his last boyfriend disappeared, seemingly swallowed up by the sky for all the clues he left behind; and Martin still isn't sure what he did wrong there. What if he's misread... everything? It was one thing to bungle a relationship; it would be an entirely larger, far worse can of worms to screw up with Jon .

He can't stay out here, hovering on a posh Kensington stoop though, and he absolutely doesn't want to leave. So.

So .

A deep breath- and he knocks.

Martin has barely lifted his knuckles for a second strike before Jon has the door flung open.

Jon has been waiting anxiously for that knock- pacing in the hallway nervous as a cat. As the hours ticked away and the evening grew dark he couldn't stop himself from obsessively playing the conversation from the kitchen this morning over and over in his mind. Jon has worked himself into a froth analysing every detail for a missed subtext or poorly interpreted implication. Dinner, I invited him for dinner- and more. That was stupid- pushy. But then he said he was interested; and had been for 'quite a while' That's... good, right? Even Jon recognizes that his tendency towards paranoid and spiralling thoughts is more of a hindrance to his life than anything- but recognizing that tendency and being able to actually DO anything to curb those thoughts are not at all the same.

When his tension breaks at that first knock Jon has no idea what possesses him before he's pulling Martin in by his jumper. It's so sudden, it feels almost like an attack and Martin stumbles and drops his bag coming into the foyer.

"Oh, oh- hello. How was your day then?" Martin is trying to recover and is confronted with the press of Jon's lithe body against his. He hates himself for how awkward he is- he's never quite sure what to do with his hands. Especially when Jon's face is already stretching up to his, seeking his lips.

Jon's hair has been left down, brushed out smooth and shiny; threading a hand into it seems to Martin to be the best option. He can't decide what is better- the feel of it running through his fingers or the way Jon shivers and throws his head back at his touch.

Jon looks at Martin, a soft blush colouring his cheeks. The feel of Martin's fingers gently carding through his hair is somehow even more intimate than this morning; and he doesn't pull back at all, only presses in harder.

"Ah, yes- I'm sorry. Are you all right? How was the meeting; how is your mother?"

"She's fine. Mostly fine- but I really, really don't want to think about that now." The last thing Martin wants to think about is an antiseptic hospital room and the vicious patient within. Not here with Jon moulded to him; here Martin would rather concentrate on the silky hair in his hand and the way Jon's breathing has gone a bit thready.

Jon takes a deep breath-"You could-ah; come upstairs Martin, I could help you take your mind off of it all."

"Oh-" Martin casts about inside his brain for a response to that. Oh - is the best that he can currently manage.