Fic - JonMartin - Snow Day

[lady_mab]

The only warning that something is amiss is the delighted shout of Tim, echoing through the halls and away.

Jon only honestly registers it because it’s very clearly a sound of delight and not a scream of pain, terror, or frustration — which, he’s not too keen to note, are becoming more common place.

There’s a beat, and then Basira and Melanie are gone.

Jon wonders if there’s some sort of consequence for having background interference on his recordings, but figures if nothing has happened insofar all the other times he’s been interrupted, then his assistants making a ruckus shouldn’t.

Hopefully.

And then there’s a knock at his door. It’s only through deductive reasoning that he knows who it is as the door opens, and no other reason he tells himself.

Martin’s grin is hesitant and sheepish. “Jon. Sorry. Are you busy?”

Jon lifts an eyebrow, tapping the tip of his pen against the statement he had just finished reading.

“Stupid question,” Martin answers with a sigh. “It’s just…”

He waits, but nothing is forthcoming. “What?” It’s, perhaps, a bit more brusque than he meant, if Martin’s visible wince is any indication.

“No, nevermind…” The man looks genuinely crestfallen, though he makes a valiant effort to keep the polite smile in place.

“Martin—” Jon starts with a sigh of his own, setting down the recorder and the paper. “What happened?” He tries for a joke, adding, “I don’t think I’ve heard time that giddy in over a year.”

It falls flat, even on his own ears, the reasons for that painfully obvious.

But it gets Martin to stay, and that’s enough of a success. “It’s snowing.”

This time, Jon lifts both eyebrows. “Really?” He glances at his desk calendar, surprised to realize that it really is that late in the year. “The weather had been getting cold, but I didn’t realize…”

Martin jerks a thumb over his shoulder, and Jon realizes that he’s still standing only halfway through the door, as if ready to beat a hasty retreat if necessary. “I just…. I wanted to see… You know if… If you weren’t busy…”

The rest of the question hangs in the air between them, floating on the silence filled only by the whir of the tape recorder.

“You don’t have to you’re obviously busy,” Martin says in one quick rush, already starting to back out — the way that he would a year ago, before everything, before Jon started to try and make an effort.

“No,” Jon says so suddenly that he surprises himself as much as he surprises Martin with the force of it. “No, I… I think I would like to go.” He has to force himself to reach for the ‘stop’ button, though his finger hovers over it without pushing down.

“Yeah?” Martin’s tone is hopeful and Jon can feel his hesitation weaken another degree. “Great! I’ll… I’ll wait for you?”

Jon lets a slow smile tug the corner of his lips. “Alright. Yeah. I think there’s a snowball with Basira’s name on it.” He hits stop, and it gives a satisfying click as it releases.

Martin doesn’t even bother trying to hide his grin, hugging his coat to his chest as he watches Jon approach the door. He steps aside, revealing the empty desks of the archival assistants. “Do you want to help me make a snowman?”

“Is there even enough snow?”

Martin shrugs. “Tim said there was a lot.”

“Then we can make one that we shall name Elias and enjoy watching Melanie beat it to pieces as soon as we are done,” Jon says, and Martin’s laugh is a strange mix of nervous amusement, as if he’s uncertain if Jon was joking or not.

Jon shrugs into his coat, and follows Martin outside.