Snowfall

[loficharm]

Martin watches the snow come down with a pensive expression, chewing his lip and mindlessly cradling a half-drunk cup of tea to his chest. It is, as was predicted, really coming down. They’d sent Kat and Eliot home a little early so they could beat the worst of it, but now, as Martin waits for John to finish recording a Statement, he fears the worst of it is upon them. Or starting to be upon them. It may keep up like this for a while yet.

He ticks through the options in his head. Depending on how much longer John has to go—and Martin knows interrupting him is out of the question—they could forego most of the closing process and just head out as promptly as possible. Neither of them have outerwear particularly suited to this amount of precipitation, but they could make it home if they really needed to. The Bramford isn’t far; close enough to make calling a taxi overkill, and they might have better luck on foot anyway. But it wouldn’t very enjoyable; they’d get home cold and wet and it would be a whole thing.

Or they could stay late and try to wait it out. It isn’t a blizzard, it’s not like they’re trapped. The snowfall is gentle and actually rather lovely to look at. They have some provisions here if they get hungry; it’s warm and dry and there’s reasonably cozy seating scattered about. No reason they couldn’t just lock up and… allow themselves to be a bit snowed in.

The more he thinks about it, the more he finds he kind of likes that idea. There’s something sort of romantic about it, or adventurous in the most mild of ways; breaking their own routine, committing themselves to the whims of the weather. The sort of low-stakes spontaneity he tends to enjoy in small doses. This way, he won’t have to rush John out the moment he’s done reading his Statement. It’s usually better to let him soak it in a bit after. They can just take their time and… enjoy the quiet, and each other’s company.

So he heads back toward John’s office. The door is closed, and he can hear the low murmur of his voice from within. He waits a little while, making no effort to listen closely, until the drone stops and he hears John take a breath. A few seconds more, and Martin raises a hand to knock gently.

“All done?” he says as John calls him in, stepping in and around to settle a hand on John’s back. “So it’s really picked up out there, and I was wondering… maybe we ought to stay here for a while. Wait it out in relative comfort. I mean, at least until it’s not coming down quite so heavily. Could get some more work done, or just… kick our feet up. What do you think?”

Comments

[statement_ends]

He can't help but soften further under Martin's gentle, assessing gaze, a warm counterpoint to the sense of scrutiny he usually feels when he's at work. And when Martin deliberately sets his beverage aside before divesting John of his own cup, he lets out a soft, low chuckle. Martin's intentions are plain, and John's not about to argue with them. On the contrary, he sinks readily into the kiss that follows, his hand settling on Martin's middle and staying there, even after Martin has drawn back and recovered his cup.

"Well," John murmurs after a moment, his fingers idly drifting over the fabric of Martin's jumper. "How am I supposed to come up with a droll rejoinder to that?" He leans in a little, just enough to nuzzle into Martin's hair. "You've left me with no other option but sincerity. Dreadful."

He supposes he could retrieve his own beverage as well, but the more immediate pleasure of indulging in Martin's softness is difficult to deny himself — and warms him just as much, for that matter. So he stays put, puffing a soft, satisfied sigh against Martin's hair as his hand wanders a ponderous little circle against his middle.

[loficharm]

Martin allows himself a rather smug smile as John settles in alongside him, a soft sigh and a hum sliding out as John nuzzles into his hair and strokes his belly. "S'right," he says, attempting to sound triumphant and coming out a bit sleepy. "Fell right into my trap, you did."

He takes another careful sip of his cocoa, presses a little kiss to John's hair, and leans against him to look out the window. Where moments ago he'd felt a bit playfully sheepish about the possibility of being seen by passers-by, now he can't find it in himself to care. Let them be seen, if anyone should look up in their struggle through the weather. They're fucking adorable and he's not ashamed about it.

Actually he's fairly certain if anyone does look he'll feel quite embarrassed; it's more that he doesn't want John to move or stop what he's doing. Hopefully the two won't conflict.

"Comfortable?" he asks, glancing at John's cocoa where he knows it's likely to sit until it's cold.

[statement_ends]

John's focus is narrowing to a point that no longer includes the window or anything beyond it — or the mug of hot chocolate, for that matter. He leaves off stroking Martin's belly in favor of simply pulling himself close, slouching a little so he can both curl his arms around Martin and rest his head on Martin's shoulder.

"Mmmhm," he replies, both to Martin's assessment and his question. It's a somewhat generous response to the latter: his back will probably start protesting the current arrangement before too long. But he's comfortable enough for the moment, and he thinks he's struck a good balance of being obnoxiously demonstrative without veering into anything inappropriate. Martin will simply have to put up with him.

[loficharm]

"Mmhm," Martin echoes a bit dryly, knowing all too well that this positioning can't last long. But that won't be the end of the world either, he thinks. There might be some compromises they can find.

He resettles as John does, draping one arm loosely around around him and leaning over to kiss his head where it rests. He rubs a hand gently up and down the length of John's arm and sips his cocoa quietly, watching the snow fall outside.

An older man in a thick coat struggles into view, bullying his way through the thick of it, and as Martin watches him idly, something draws his attention and he does glance in.

Immediately Martin flushes bright red, tensing ever so slightly, staring back like a startled deer; but the man can hardly stop, barely taking more than a second to take in the tableau before moving on with his day, thinking god only knows what.

Martin clears his throat a bit more loudly than he'd have liked and takes another, heftier sip of his cocoa, giving John a bit more of a firm, companionable pat.

[statement_ends]

There's a justifiably dubious note to Martin's echo, but he still curls an arm around him and presses a kiss to John's hair, which is a victory as far as John is concerned. He shuts his eyes, humming in quiet acknowledgment when Martin runs his hand along his arm, and thinks that he's successfully dozed off in less comfortable positions than this.

And then Martin tenses beneath him. It's slight, but impossible to miss with John draped around him as he is, and John lifts his head just in time to catch the pedestrian struggling onward and out of sight. Presumably after looking through the window at them.

His suspicions are confirmed by Martin's blush and the bracing pat he gives him, and John has to bite back a grin. "Oh, dear. Were we spotted?" He lets his head drop back onto Martin's shoulder, apparently unconcerned, though a part of him can't help but wonder just what he missed — and, as often happens, the suggestion of a question is enough to earn him an answer. "For what it's worth, he nearly fell on the ice before he could form any opinions about us, which interrupted his train of thought entirely. Now he's just thinking about how he should've gone shopping earlier in the day."

[loficharm]

Martin lifts his hand from John just long enough to bury his face in it for a moment, stifling an embarrassed giggle. He's honestly not sure if John is making this up or not, but it's a modest relief either way. He settles after a moment and drops his hand back down, smiling at John quite fondly before he leans over a kisses him again, one-two-three along his hairline. It's a little awkward, and after a moment more he says, "You can't really be comfortable like this, John."

[statement_ends]

"Hm? Are you encouraging me to get more comfortable?" John turns his head to press a kiss to Martin's shoulder, all the while considering a few loose interpretations of that implicit suggestion. All of them involve rather more embarrassing configurations than the one they're currently in, but then again, John's more than happy to rank comfort over potential embarrassment.

His own, anyway. If Martin finds this all a bit too much, that's another matter.

But for the moment, no one is passing by, so John allows himself a slow, dramatic slide into Martin's lap. "Like this?" he asks as he rolls gracelessly over, his legs tangling in the blanket a bit as he pivots on the mattress. "Something along these lines?" It takes some maneuvering, but he eventually manages to settle himself on his back, his head in Martin's lap and his legs sprawling off the foot of the cot. He grins up at Martin from this new vantage point, making a halfhearted attempt to tug the blanket back over himself. "Cozy."

[loficharm]

Martin starts giggling helplessly as John answers him more or less the way he'd been hoping: by letting himself slip and wriggle down until he's settled more or less in Martin's lap, the whole process so ungainly and ridiculous that Martin only starts laughing harder when John pronounces himself Cozy. He curls over and presses a kiss to John's forehead, the angle a little too steep for it to be comfortable for him, but it's worth doing so once; then he reaches out and helps with the blanket, pulling it over John's legs to haphazardly tuck him in.

"Yes, exactly like that," he says, his amusement dissolving into pure fondness as he gazes down at John with a tender smile and starts absently stroking his hair. He knows John might easily fall asleep like this, but that wouldn't be so terrible. He'd quite like it, he thinks. Just taking care of him while he has a nap, the two of them waiting out the storm. So his smile deepens a bit, and he adds softly, "Perfect."

[statement_ends]

"Oh, good," John replies, turning his head to give Martin's belly a brief nuzzle. "Glad we've reached a compromise."

Any additional commentary he might have made is discarded when Martin slides his fingers into his hair. John hums softly, his eyes slipping shut, lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Martin's middle in drowsy reciprocation.

He could fall asleep like this easily. Martin probably wouldn't mind — John suspects he knows exactly what he's doing whenever he employs such soothing tactics, and welcomes the consequences — but they're still in front of the window, so he still feels compelled to offer a muzzy warning: "Mm. Might doze off." He shifts subtly, then settles with a sigh. "Whatever will the pedestrians think?"

[loficharm]

Martin draws a light, pleasantly startled breath when John nuzzles into his belly — mostly surprised at how nice that feels — and answers the following brush of fingers with a soft hum. He grins at the warning, such as it is.

"Don't care," he says, and even after that little start just moments ago, he thinks he really doesn't. His fingers delve deep into John's hair, drifting warm and gentle over his scalp beneath. "If it's not how nice a picture we make then I don't want to hear about it."

[statement_ends]

John huffs softly, amused, and tips his head to both rest against the gentle curve of Martin's belly and give Martin better access to his hair. "That's the spirit," he replies, half-muffled against Martin's jumper.

It isn't long at all before his breathing slows, and his smile fades into something smaller and effortless. The absent curling of his fingers against Martin's side lasts a little longer, but he can't really compete with Martin's practiced ministrations. He's too deliciously comfortable to resist the pull of slumber, even if he'd wanted to.

He's asleep before his abandoned cocoa has had time to fully cool.