The Weekend Arrangement

Build Up Your Defences

"Okay- Jon. You can't just stand there glued to the floor. You have to move your feet. Also, your stance is all wrong"

"You keep saying this Martin- and I keep not understanding what you mean." Jon wilts a bit forlornly, and his arms droop with the sagging of his shoulders.

During an idle conversation at work, Martin had discovered Tim was a member of a boxing gym and it had gotten him thinking. After prodding Tim for more details about the general atmosphere of the place, Martin had decided to offer Jon some lessons in basic self defence.

Very basic self defence- really just unsophisticated punches and some quick and dirty fight tactics that maybe weren't fair, but might help Jon feel less anxious. Even with Martin living at the townhouse- for weeks now- and no signs of Michael; Jon still seemed uncomfortable alone and Martin had the notion that if Jon felt more able to defend himself, he might feel more in control of situations.

It had certainly seemed like a sensible idea to Jon when it was presented to him, but now that he's here in the gym it strikes him as absurd- he's been thin and wiry his whole life. Jon has always assumed what scant musculature was visible on him was just a product of not having enough substance to him to cover it up; he's barely more than skin lying on bones in some places and he has never had any interest in physical fitness. The very notion of being a person who could punch someone and do any damage at all was preposterous. And now standing here in a pair of jogging shorts that he has had since maybe as far back as Uni and swimming in a stolen tee shirt of Martin's, the idea has crossed the line straight into ludicrous.

Even so, Jon has been trying to pay attention to the lesson being presented; but it's hard keeping focused on what Martin is saying when he keeps getting distracted by the way Martin is moving. Generally drawing into himself when others are near to watch him, here in the gym Martin seems to let that drop away as he sinks into his body and throws what would be devastating punches at the heavy bag swinging from the ceiling. It's mesmerising to watch Martin shake off his self consciousness and Jon can't seem to keep his attention on anything beyond the way Martin's broad, freckled shoulders roll every time he strikes the practise bag with a solid thump, and the way his muscular back is rippling underneath his thin, clingy A-shirt.

It becomes increasingly hard for Jon to concentrate on the more technical aspects of movement and form when he keeps catching other gym goers gaze over at his boyfriend with poorly disguised interest. Lured close by the rhythmic sounds of Martin striking the bag with force, soon there's a small cluster of people watching as Martin demonstrates various attacks.

Jon has never been a jealous person, and the hot rush of possessiveness he feels watching others watch Martin is disconcerting. He's staring daggers at a woman who keeps moving her overly complicated stretching routine closer and closer to where Martin is giving him this instruction and Jon is dragged back only by the sound of his name.

"Jon? Jon- did you hear me?"

Martin has been talking, and Jon wrenches his attention back to the task presented to him with a grimace.

"I just don't know what to do with my body- "

"Well, no. But, that's what we're here for, so you know what to do."

"-and I do not want to get punched in the face in service to some sort of lesson."

"You will not be getting punched at all- no sparring or anything like that for you, and all of my demonstrations will be super slow. Today is just going to be you learning the right way to stand- the right way to hold your arms, maybe a few simple movements; okay?"