John uncurls his hand, slow and careful, but he does take it, and Martin has to work hard to stop an embarrassing hitch of his breath when John's thumb brushes over his knuckles. It's a light, natural point of contact, and yet it's more than he expected, perhaps because it's so careful.
And then John meets his eyes, and Martin is overwhelmed by the certainty that this was a mistake. For a dizzying moment it's all he can do to stare back, the two of them just... holding each other's gaze like that, like that, only he can't read John's expression and he doesn't know how much his gives away. Perhaps too much; perhaps John will recoil from it, think Martin is deriving some undue pleasure from reaching out to touch him, from that hug, from all of it, and that will be the end of it all.
But John doesn't recoil. He averts his gaze, dismisses the whole thing with a wry little remark, and lets go his hand.
Martin pulls back slowly, not in a hurry, feeling dazed and a bit cautious. Either John didn't see anything, or he saw it and he's just... setting it aside. Which would make sense. Martin knows that John's heard every tape, heard those moments where he said a little more than he meant to, let slip that he worries, that he misses him, that he needs him to be okay. John's heard Elias taunt him about his devotion, and even heard Martin snap back about his feelings, so... this shouldn't be any different. John knows, and he's made peace with it, and... and Martin can, too. It's encouraging, sort of.
"It's all right," he says softly, managing a little smile. "I'm glad you told me."
He is glad; as awful as it was, he likes knowing more about John, understanding a little better what formed him. His first horrifying experience with a Leitner has a lot of context to offer. After sharing so much of himself, it... Well, Martin doesn't believe there's any need for something transactional here, but it feels good that John is willing to share, too.
He rouses himself at length and picks up one of the scones and his tea. "Well, on that note," he says, as lightheartedly as he can, "I suppose I ought to get around to managing this place." He stands up and looks at John, still smiling. Beyond all of it, the sad elements in both their stories, his own underlying torments, he's still just overwhelmingly happy about the gift, the knowledge that John's going to be all right. He's not sure what else to say, the I'll see you later sort of obvious and implied, so he ends up just nodding and turning to leave. He needs a bit of time to himself, he thinks, but it's the good sort, just to settle himself. Knowing John's around the corner is the comfort it ought to be.
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And then John meets his eyes, and Martin is overwhelmed by the certainty that this was a mistake. For a dizzying moment it's all he can do to stare back, the two of them just... holding each other's gaze like that, like that, only he can't read John's expression and he doesn't know how much his gives away. Perhaps too much; perhaps John will recoil from it, think Martin is deriving some undue pleasure from reaching out to touch him, from that hug, from all of it, and that will be the end of it all.
But John doesn't recoil. He averts his gaze, dismisses the whole thing with a wry little remark, and lets go his hand.
Martin pulls back slowly, not in a hurry, feeling dazed and a bit cautious. Either John didn't see anything, or he saw it and he's just... setting it aside. Which would make sense. Martin knows that John's heard every tape, heard those moments where he said a little more than he meant to, let slip that he worries, that he misses him, that he needs him to be okay. John's heard Elias taunt him about his devotion, and even heard Martin snap back about his feelings, so... this shouldn't be any different. John knows, and he's made peace with it, and... and Martin can, too. It's encouraging, sort of.
"It's all right," he says softly, managing a little smile. "I'm glad you told me."
He is glad; as awful as it was, he likes knowing more about John, understanding a little better what formed him. His first horrifying experience with a Leitner has a lot of context to offer. After sharing so much of himself, it... Well, Martin doesn't believe there's any need for something transactional here, but it feels good that John is willing to share, too.
He rouses himself at length and picks up one of the scones and his tea. "Well, on that note," he says, as lightheartedly as he can, "I suppose I ought to get around to managing this place." He stands up and looks at John, still smiling. Beyond all of it, the sad elements in both their stories, his own underlying torments, he's still just overwhelmingly happy about the gift, the knowledge that John's going to be all right. He's not sure what else to say, the I'll see you later sort of obvious and implied, so he ends up just nodding and turning to leave. He needs a bit of time to himself, he thinks, but it's the good sort, just to settle himself. Knowing John's around the corner is the comfort it ought to be.