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between the lines // for Eliot
May. 16th, 2020 12:06 pmMay 11, 2020
Functionally, nothing's changed. Martin tries to go about his business as usual, and if he brings John his tea a little earlier or a little more often than normal, well, that isn't in and of itself a sign of anything. But things are different, a little, not in any large, profound way, but something small and special. It's a bit how he felt their first few days after they'd started properly seeing one another, with every moment of self-awareness bringing a new rush of giddy feeling.
What they'd done the day before, it doesn't truly change anything, but it still feels... momentous. It's still new. It's still something they share now, tucked away in the flitting looks they pass each other, the smiles, the lingering brush of hands. A little while after lunch, Martin brings the afternoon cuppa to John just as John is stepping out, and they stop in the doorway, each a little startled and a little flustered, and when John takes the cup he also takes Martin's hand and presses a gentle kiss along his knuckles, his eyes never leaving Martin's. A little thrill shivers up Martin's spine, his stomach dropping like he's on a bloody roller-coaster, and he blushes intensely with no means to stop himself. John smiles, smug and satisfied, before drifting off to fetch whatever file he'd come out to get, and Martin makes his fumbling way back to his office.
Functionally, nothing's changed. Martin tries to go about his business as usual, and if he brings John his tea a little earlier or a little more often than normal, well, that isn't in and of itself a sign of anything. But things are different, a little, not in any large, profound way, but something small and special. It's a bit how he felt their first few days after they'd started properly seeing one another, with every moment of self-awareness bringing a new rush of giddy feeling.
What they'd done the day before, it doesn't truly change anything, but it still feels... momentous. It's still new. It's still something they share now, tucked away in the flitting looks they pass each other, the smiles, the lingering brush of hands. A little while after lunch, Martin brings the afternoon cuppa to John just as John is stepping out, and they stop in the doorway, each a little startled and a little flustered, and when John takes the cup he also takes Martin's hand and presses a gentle kiss along his knuckles, his eyes never leaving Martin's. A little thrill shivers up Martin's spine, his stomach dropping like he's on a bloody roller-coaster, and he blushes intensely with no means to stop himself. John smiles, smug and satisfied, before drifting off to fetch whatever file he'd come out to get, and Martin makes his fumbling way back to his office.
