The Weekend Arrangement

I'll Make You My Home

"Is this- it ?"

Jon looks at the back of the van somewhat in disbelief. He'd finished what little cleaning was left to do and had been sent down to secure the boxes for travel while the other three brought the last bits out of Martin's flat.

There just wasn't much there; a weight set that required both Tim and Martin to bring down (and answered a host of questions regarding Martin's strength for Jon) a few boxes of books and clothing, a couple of crates of records, and a rickety bookshelf that seemed as though a stiff breeze would unmake it.

Jon was going to tell Martin to just leave that- he had plenty of shelf space already and then his eye caught marks on the side of the wood. It was a series of dates; one year after another inked in a bold, masculine hand beside deeply carved lines and they marched up the side of the shelf. At the bottom, there was no more than a couple of inches or so between them, but as they travelled further up they were spread more noticeably. The progression of Martin's growth, clearly marked with at least some care by the father who had abandoned him and his mother. They stopped in 1996 and even in the midst of his excitement that Martin was moving in for good, Jon was heartbroken for the nine-year-old living in dangerous neighbourhoods; the child that held onto this ramshackle shelf because it was the last reminder he had of the father that didn't want him.

He hopes he can help Martin know that he is wanted now they are together; wanted and safe and away from the insecurity and fear that has marked his life. Jon tries to put that out of his mind as he arranges and secures what little there was in the van.

After... everything; Jon was elated for today. The last pieces of Martin's life finally coming back home with him.

"Well, I didn't have all that much to begin with, and most of my stuff is already at your place-"

" OUR place"

Martin blushes- at least Jon thinks it's a blush, it might just be the flush from moving boxes downstairs in the day's heat. "Ah, say it again. It sounds so nice when you say it."

" Our home. Most of your things are already at our home Martin." Jon reaches up to run his fingers into Martin's mop of sweaty curls, bringing his face down for a long, sweet kiss.

"Honestly you two- get a room. Oh, wait, you have an entire house for that now, you might keep it out of the streets at least." Sasha comes around the van carrying a turntable. "This is it- Tim should be behind me with the speakers for this thing. Martin, I cannot believe you have a record player in this day and age."

"Hey, it has a real lo-fi charm to it, I think."

Sasha just rolls her eyes. "So; shall we to Kensington? There may not have been much to actually move, but I do believe we were promised dinner in exchange for free muscle?"

"Dinner- AND beer." Tim had made it down with the speakers and the small moving van was ready to head out. " AND Jon promised each of us one free 'get out of work on a Monday' as long as we didn't take it on the same Monday."

Jon arches a brow " I never agreed to that at all."

"Ah well," Tim shrugs jovially "Worth a shot anyway. Let's go- I for one am terribly interested to find out what Jonathan Sims thinks is a proper thank you beer for help with moving."

Tim and Sasha had stayed a terrifically appropriate amount of time. There were beers that Tim had said were " actually a fantastic choice, boss. One would almost think you knew what you were doing" and between the four they had finished off the delivered pizzas. Then without any prodding or pointed hinting, Tim and Sasha wished Jon and Martin a pleasant evening (thankfully with a minimum of suggestive teasing) and headed out. Now they were alone and draped over the couch and each other, the suggestion to begin unpacking levied and quickly discarded.