[ Then there’d been the coffin. The idea of anchors had largely been misinterpreted by them both. John believed he’d needed a piece of himself on the outside, which hadn’t been a terrible idea – just... grim? When John hadn’t returned, though, Martin had gotten the bright idea to leave dozens of recorders around the wooden box that had swallowed Daisy months ago. It was such an integral part of John those days that it had just made sense...
He’d privately listened to statements that followed John’s return – because he... he needed to know how to help, what to push his way to quell the frustration John clearly felt regarding what direction to go next. For the sake of Peter’s plan, he couldn’t do much more. (Not even hope when it started to sound like John was feeling a certain sort of way about him, because why?)
That feels like a lifetime ago.
He’s fine with accepting what they are to one another. And for now, he will simply let it be when John says that they’re even (even though later, he knows he’ll be just as guilty of getting in his head as John is on the daily). ]
Pure unadulterated masochism. [ He is being a menace, delivering it in the flat, unamused tone John would often take back in those earlier days. Oh, the feats of projection that man had been capable of was impressive. He’s smiling as well, though it’s in that stupid...besotted way he gets whenever John looks at him. Kissing his hand? Strike him down (only don’t). ] No, no... You— I just like taking care of people, and you were cute. Shut up.
[ Emotionally constipated is his type. He lets out a breathy laugh, taking a moment to glance over his shoulder. Then he returns his attention to John, and from the flicker of uncertainty, it could be assumed that he doesn’t want to put it out into the open, where anyone else can overhear. Those weeks in the safe house in Scotland belonged to them – a stolen, glowing patch of sunlight after years of doing the Institute’s bidding. Plucked from the Lonely, to be very much not alone. He doesn’t want to sully it, knowing what they know now. He settles on a quiet smile. A shrug. ]
Now. Well... soon, if we’re lucky. [ a pause, and he sounds less wistful and more, ironically amused? ] It’s weird. They didn’t act all that surprised to see us? Maybe we aren’t all that special for once.
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He’d privately listened to statements that followed John’s return – because he... he needed to know how to help, what to push his way to quell the frustration John clearly felt regarding what direction to go next. For the sake of Peter’s plan, he couldn’t do much more. (Not even hope when it started to sound like John was feeling a certain sort of way about him, because why?)
That feels like a lifetime ago.
He’s fine with accepting what they are to one another. And for now, he will simply let it be when John says that they’re even (even though later, he knows he’ll be just as guilty of getting in his head as John is on the daily). ]
Pure unadulterated masochism. [ He is being a menace, delivering it in the flat, unamused tone John would often take back in those earlier days. Oh, the feats of projection that man had been capable of was impressive. He’s smiling as well, though it’s in that stupid...besotted way he gets whenever John looks at him. Kissing his hand? Strike him down (only don’t). ] No, no... You— I just like taking care of people, and you were cute. Shut up.
[ Emotionally constipated is his type. He lets out a breathy laugh, taking a moment to glance over his shoulder. Then he returns his attention to John, and from the flicker of uncertainty, it could be assumed that he doesn’t want to put it out into the open, where anyone else can overhear. Those weeks in the safe house in Scotland belonged to them – a stolen, glowing patch of sunlight after years of doing the Institute’s bidding. Plucked from the Lonely, to be very much not alone. He doesn’t want to sully it, knowing what they know now. He settles on a quiet smile. A shrug. ]
Now. Well... soon, if we’re lucky. [ a pause, and he sounds less wistful and more, ironically amused? ] It’s weird. They didn’t act all that surprised to see us? Maybe we aren’t all that special for once.
[ Wouldn’t that be a novel concept? ]