|Drache-Königin (edincoat) wrote in makrothumia,|
@ 2009-01-11 03:20:00
Holding on to such a thing is rather futile, he agrees. Doing this clinging by a fingernail onto the edge of sanity while screaming at Martin, don't drop me because I will so fucking haunt you if you do, he knows that he should just give up and let go.
Martin will never drop him, but there is nothing to stop the guy from going over the edge with him.
The first day after they shed clothes in one another's presence for the first time, touch naked skin to naked skin and explore using hands and tongues, they meet back at the office and don't look at each other. Because this anomaly is best not spoken of, even if talking about it might salvage a friendship.
And Martin looks like he might say something eventually, really he does at first. And then Elena walks up and asks him why he didn't pick up when she called last night, and it isn't like he could say Oh, sorry, I was busy being fucked against my front door.
He manages to say he was sleeping, must have been tired, and she leans down to kiss him on the cheek and Martin leaves the office without giving anything away.
The second day after their second encounter, a full week after the first one and a lot more frantic if it one could think it possible, they still don't look at one another, because otherwise there might be something exchanged that couldn't be explained. Like Martin bending Danny over his desk chair, right there in the centre of the bullpen.
He took care of Elena's suspicions before he came into work, inviting her over to breakfast and charming both her and her daughter like the professional con he is. Even kissed each girl on the cheek and smiled like they were the only bits of light in his life, not that his attention was focused on a male-co-worker whenever they weren't around.
And even sometimes when they were.
The third fourth fifth sixth seventh eighth nth day after their nth meeting, they don't look at each other, all right? There are no glances exchanged, no subtle smiles to let the other one know that he does indeed care and that this isn't a grinding of stucco wall-covering with bare backs sort of thing that will never end but will never go anywhere either.
And Martin is cool about it, so long as they don't say anything at all during work hours except for required communication. The other team-mates have noticed, but not said anything, because really it isn't their place to question what is going on with the two.
The only thing that has changed is that Danny now takes Elena and her daughter out to breakfast the morning after, because he's guilty and a horrible person and he can't stand to let anyone inside his flat unless it's Martin naked and gasping against him.
Months and months, Elena finally notices something. Not a mark, or a bruise, or a glazed expression when his thoughts turn to Martin's mouth on him, but a stiffening of the back when Martin walks past with nary a glance. She asks, why aren't you two speaking?
He answers, it's complicated.
She persists, why aren't you two speaking?
And he finds that, through the immense guilty-feeling, he has to tell her.
It is three in the morning, and they haven't met for two weeks seven days. He doesn't know when he had to invoke a twelve-step programme when dealing with withdrawals from Martin, but it works, so he continues. Elena is long gone, transferred out because of disgust and just a little anger, taking her daughter with her and isn't he glad he isn't a fly on the wall for the conversation where she tells her exactly why Danny won't be around anymore.
Martin made no recognition to his ending of things with Elena, as if it was too late now and this stopping of their meetings kind of drives that home for him. He should have told Elena at the beginning, he should have just not started with her at all and gone after Martin instead. The idea of never taking up with Martin does pass by his thoughts, but he ignores it until it goes away, because this, this. It needs to keep going, or he'll tumble over the edge dragging a slightly sullen and pissed off Martin down with him.
He's outside the younger man's building, and he is glad it is dark because picking the lock isn't something that is applauded in the FBI. Actually, he is pretty certain he would lose his job for it. And though this is more important in the long run--lawyers make more money anyway--he doesn't want anything to stop him from doing this.
Martin's building doesn't have central heating, so it is downright frigid as he treks up the four storeys worth of stairs to get to his partner's front door. He pounds on it, cold and dancing a little to warm up, and doesn't wait to ask permission as he practically dives inside when the door opens.
He shivers as the warmth starts to thaw his limbs, and ignores Martin completely as he sheds every bit of cloth and protection he has on him.
Turns to the man he's pretty much given everything up for, and takes in the quickened breath but still flat-gaze. He smiles as gently as he can, goes forward and presses close, kisses the side of a closed mouth and just lingers.
Whispers against him, only you from now on.
And almost shakes with relief when Martin kisses him back.