The Weekend Arrangement

All the Lines We Can Not Yet Cross

Anything can become a new normal. Habits will tend to establish themselves with little input from those participating in them and away from the illicit, stolen time they carved out at the Institute; weekends together became a remarkably easy routine to fall into. Fridays would proceed as always, with vague discussions of plans and possibly extended invites to a local pub or club. If Tim and Sasha ever took note of Martin begging off these excursions, they never mentioned it- and Jon hadn't ever been one for joining in so his not coming out was not noticed or remarked on.

The staff would wander out of the building, everyone seemingly going their separate ways; until Martin could catch up with Jon a few blocks away and they could continue their journey together.

Fridays were always a touch desperate, all grasping hands and tearing at clothing as soon as they came through the door. Finally freed of sound and time constraints, they would make the most they could of it, oftentimes not falling asleep so much as collapsing from exhaustion.

By Saturday night, their passions would cool enough to let them have leisurely dinners and actual conversations. Real dates- albeit ones that could only happen inside; Jon's house was far too near the Institute for them to attempt to actually go out . No need to run into a coworker while dining together in a romantic booth, or while out early for breakfast- no, staying inside and away from the possibility of Institute eyes was the safest option by far.

And if they were being honest- they had plenty to keep themselves occupied with indoors.

They found ways to make their time special, wringing out every moment together for whatever they could have. It's been nearly six months now, and while they both hate having to be quiet about something that had become so important so quickly, knowing the weekends were just on the horizon eased the sting somewhat. The only thing either would change is the need to be so damned covert about it.

Though they only have scant time on the weekends, the hours not spent in bed are filled with wonderfully ordinary household activities and if things were different, Jon could almost imagine this as a trial run for living together. Things aren't different, but Jon still likes to daydream about what it might be like to have Martin living with him full time.

Jon's house has picked up traces of Martin everywhere. A thousand tiny reminders of him that keep Jon semi stable until he could make it to having Martin back in his arms. There was the larger mug he liked for the morning, and without being quite aware he was doing it Jon had found himself buying Martin's favourite biscuits and brand of tea when he did his shopping. There was an extra toothbrush and razor tucked in a corner of the bathroom vanity, and a sliver of the spicy smelling soap he used going soft on the soap dish in the shower. The pillow that held his scent almost all the way to the next weekend- a collection of such simple, normal household things but they filled Jon with a desperate longing every time he thought about them.

Small books of poetry had started popping up on the bedside and tucked beside the couch- Jon would flip through them when he couldn't sleep. He's never cared for poetry, has never really gotten it. Poetry just doesn't make sense in the way prose does for him, but he was not lying when he told Martin all those months ago he wanted to try at this- and being interested in your partner's interests felt like the correct thing to do. The absolutely swoony way Martin looked at him when he casually quoted Rilke one night was encouragement enough for him to continue trying to parse through the books.

There was even a drawer that had accumulated a few changes of clothes. Not that either tended to wear very much at all whenever they were together, but it did prevent Martin from needing to bring an overnight bag to work every Friday- a detail Jon was sure someone would pick up on at some point.