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Jon's hesitant to leave Elias' office and no, it was certainly not because he wanted to be in the man's presence anymore than necessary. The state Elias drove Martin into, ready to sacrifice himself on the chance at something changing, that haunted Jon more than he liked to admit. It felt like a barely dodged bullet, which felt like most things these days, really.

No, his hesitance was more an uncertainty of what to do now. He dropped off the radar, from Georgie and Martin, for five days and he could only imagine how they'd both react. At least he left Georgie a note when he left to stay with Martin, she had some idea, even if it was a vague one. Martin, on the other hand, he didn't contact at all.

Yes, that... was a mistake. He knew that.

It seemed like a small thing to worry about in the grand scheme of things- people were dead, he was turning into a monster, Basira and Daisy were now tied to it and, it turns out, Elias had a kill switch to keep them all in line. Now that he saw Tim it was pretty obvious he wasn't doing well and, if Jon was going to be honest with himself, unlikely to last if all he heard was true. 'Feed your god or it feeds on you.' Tim certainly looked... lesser.

"Jon?" Elias' tone is pointed, and Jon sighs. He doesn't bother any sort of goodbye as he goes out.

He wonders, briefly, if he could avoid Martin and just... go take this statement now. He didn't want to, not really, avoid Martin at least. He sort of wanted to just convince Martin to put off everything that needed to be said so they could go to bed and just sleep, have Martin close. Maybe take the statement first, the urge was strong.

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"What else did he say?" Martin might be exhausted, but he isn't completely oblivious to the way that Jon's expression darkens- and despite himself, he's leaning forward slightly, frowning. Protective, in his own way, ready to be Upset if Elias were saying anything to bother Jon significaly. He glances at the phone, as if wanting to take it, but he knows better. It's not like the call was a text message he could just read, after all.

Jon's lips twist in a grimace but after a beat he answers. "He just made pointed comments about whether he thought my attachment to you was 'wise,' given the nature of my role in things. He's been keen on suggesting getting used to seeing people as things to discard once observation is complete."

He huffs, lying back and tugging Martin to follow after. "Another reason I don't like it when he even talks about you. Whatever he ultimately wants from you cannot be good."

Martin follows after him, lying on his side and facing Jon, but there's something about his face and expression that are deeply unsettled. After a beat of silence, of settling into the blanket, he'll ask- "You really think he wants something from me? Because it's not like I've got- I'm just a guy, Jon."

There's a look on Jon's face that is reluctant, because he's not sure he wants to stress Martin with the many terrible possibilities. He shifts closer and ultimately decides to answer regardless. "We all may just be convenient, people who stumbled in to fill his little chessboard. It's entirely possible the assistants are..." He clearly doesn't want to say as much, mostly because Sasha still aches. "Are fodder, just... numbers for rank. It's possible every move Elias has made is deliberate, and every one of us has a role to play that he or this Eye has decided."

He shifts again, then sighs. "Honestly, I think it's very possible he has some specific plans for you regardless of all that. He nearly had you throwing yourself at him in some attempt to uproot him before, you're the only one who's made any real attempt to continue taking statements in my absence and keep the Archives somewhat in check. Even if both those things mean nothing to him, our relationship likely does. I have very little doubt you are in his sights far more than the others are, and it disturbs me."

"Well... joke's on him, then, because I don't give a damn about whether or not he thinks our attachment is wise. I don't really think him wise, just a little clever and too smarmy about it for his own good."

He shuts his eyes for a moment, like he's ready to say something again, before he sort of just subtly groans. "God, sleep feels like such a good idea."

"Then sleep." Jon answers, shifting closer and getting the best grasp he could on Martin that was still comfortable. "We have an entire day to do so before obligation rears its ugly head. As entertaining as hearing you tear into Elias is he is hardly a relaxing topic."

Martin relaxes quite a bit when Jon grabs him as well as he can. "Are you gonna sleep, too? Are you still tired? We could always go in later. After we nap."

"Martin." Jon murmurs, reaching up with his good hand to place it on Martin's lips. "Yes, I'm going to try and yes, frankly right now I feel like I could sleep a week given the chance." Martin's presence was already helping him relax enough more sleep seemed like a definite possibility.

"Now shh, sleep, please. Or at least rest. There are a hundred dreadful, stressful things to discuss that can damn well wait a few hours." He presses his face to Martin's collar and mumbles into it, "Lord, I sound like a layabout."

"That's not at all what a layabout sounds like," Martin murmurs, but he's smiling when Jon presses his face into his collar. He reaches up with his own hand to gently stroke the back of his head, then the back of his neck, his touch gentle and fond. Adoring. "Just don't let me sleep all day, okay?" It's murmured, quiet.

Jon's answer to that is shift just enough to press a kiss into what skin he can reach at Martin's neck and collar, giving a soft 'hmph' like that showed Martin for disagreeing with his knowledge of layabout qualities. He eases into the touch and, for the first time in quite a while, finds it a little easier to just ignore everything and enjoy the peace of the moment.

"Fine, even though you could probably use it." He murmurs back, too muffled and soft to hold any of the weight he'd usually want. "Don't let me either." Which was more a 'don't leave if you do wake up before me,' which still felt hypocritical given everything.

That kiss at his neck is stupidly soothing, and Martin makes a little sound of agreement - before he shifts down, moving to kiss Jon properly. And that's probably what he'll do until he finally falls asleep: lay long, lazy kisses against the other man's mouth.

This was an ideal way to fall asleep, Jon would have probably decided if his brain wasn't too fuzzy with the act of it. When he does wake up he doesn't move an inch, relishing in Martin's warmth against him and the fact his injuries didn't ache quite as much with painkillers and rest in his system. He wishes he was the type who could keep his brain off and enjoy the moment longer but yeah, that was never going to be him. He presses a kiss to Martin's temple before extracting himself carefully.

He considers breaking his word and letting Martin sleep longer but ultimately decides to do as he was asked. "Martin? It's nearly late afternoon." At least that was his guess from the light of the window. He gently jostles Martin's shoulder.

"No," Martin whines quietly, his voice thick with sleep. Distantly, rationally, he knows that he has to get up, that he has to do something with his day that isn't just lie in bed and sleep, but his head and limbs feel like they're about eighty pounds each. "Need another thirty or forty hours."

But he's moving enough that it's clear he's trying to wake himself up.

"Then keep sleeping, daft fool." Jon answers, though he doesn't expect Martin to listen. He runs his hand through Martin's hair before pushing himself off the bed with a sigh.

He stands there, realizing he didn't even know where to start with practically anything. He had to call Georgie, or go see her, just make real contact before she inevitably went looking for him or worse, crossed paths with Melanie and found out what a mess things were. He had to make plans to go to that warehouse of Breekon & Hope's, decide whether he should try recovering more incase they were just as bad as the others or just getting it over with. Should he ask Basira to come? She was far more suited, and like hell he was going to be alone with Daisy again if he could help it. Basira also didn't deserve any of this so the thought of dragging her into a potentially dangerous situation wasn't a good one.

He probably had to fill both Martin and everyone else in on... everything. He might as well discuss with Martin letting the others know about their relationship too, seeing as he had no interest in playing pretend and spacing out when they came in the Institute to avoid suspicion. He had to go back to his flat and get all that settled, he had about a hundred things to do at the Archives, he... should probably make them a late lunch? Martin was probably hungry. He was starving.

Instead of doing anything he just sort of stands there instead. Useful.

Martin would be impressed if he'd known how much Jon was thinking about, considering his own thought processes hadn't yet gone far past beyond "tired" and "hungry." He makes another little noise of complaint when Jon actually gets out of the bed, sliding over to sink into the warm spot he'd left behind in the blankets.

"No," he yawns, hiding his face briefly in the pillow. "You're up. I'm up. We can be awake now." Jon hadn't been wrong- the sleep had made him feel leaps better.

Jon breaks his busy schedule of standing there uselessly to glance over, lips quirking slightly at Martin's behavior. "I missed this." He finds himself saying, then looking vaguely awkward for speaking his mind without thinking.

He walks closer to the side of the bed with a soft exhale. "Then get up so you can eat. I'd offer to bring you food but only animals eat in bed." He brushes Martin's hair again before heading around the bed to the door, then pausing. "I think we should consider informing the others of our relationship." Then another pause. "Not Daisy."

"Missed this, too," Martin will supply in easy answer, but Jon's followup statement is what has him lifting his face from the pillow to stare at Jon with slightly widened eyes. "So, um- Tim and Melanie and Basira?"

Because Elias already knows, doesn't he? Of course he does.

Martin seems a little more awake now, at least. "You aren't afraid they'll, er- talk?"

"If they're going to 'talk' this topic would be the very least of my worries. The entire Institute thinks I went from being a paranoid madman to murdering a man, might as well tack on that I start inappropriate relationships with my subordinates." Jon answers dryly. Someone had given up on his reputation. To be fair he was more worried about dying or becoming a monster man at the moment.

His expression does soften somewhat. "That doesn't mean you have to deal with that. We can keep it quiet still, if you prefer. I wish I could say this is in the spirit of being more open with everyone but honestly, I just don't want to waste more effort keeping up the act or give Elias any other secrets to lord about."

"No, no, I'm fine talking about it. I'm not really good with keeping secrets- you should know that much."

Martin pauses for a moment, then exhales a long, low sigh.

"Rosie is just gonna give us the look. I can already feel it, Jon."

Jon snorts- yeah, he could already see that clearly. She wouldn't even be wrong to, if they were living anything like a normal life Jon would agonize endlessly over the breach of protocol, assuming they made it this far. A very, very different time, to be sure.

"She will every single time we come in together. Once she's done badgering me about injuries I'm sure I'll get an earful. I don't know why everyone assumes I'm so much older than you." He huffs, and honestly the idea of being badgered over something so mundane wasn't bad at all. "Well, that's one thing settled out of dozens. Come on, you need to eat."

"Well, they might not, soon," Martin mutters a little darkly, and he rolls his face back into the pillow. "Found a gray hair the other day. I just turned thirty, Jon. It's like it was actually waiting for me. You're able to pull it off, but no one looks good with gray hair and a baby face."

He exhales long with a little frown, before he sits up and groans with the stiffness in his limbs.

"Anyway, um, speaking of settling things- I know you've been on the run, I guess, for a while- but - I'm assuming you do still have your flat?"

Jon's brow raises and he walks back over to regard Martin's hair. Unsurprisingly he runs his hand through it, which he tends to do given the chance. "That remains to be seen. I think it could be rather charming."

Shame those greys were probably because of how bullshit life was. He heads for the door, intent on actually getting food going as he calls to answer. "I think I should still have it, unless Detective Tonner pulled something heinous or... I don't know, some otherworld force has started squatting. A real possibility, knowing my luck." Sigh. "Going over there and getting things in order is part of the very long list of things I need to do. I don't suppose you'd want to come with me when I do?"

"I pulled it out," he confesses, and he sounds a little embarrassed by his own vanity. "Sure, I can live in this- miserable world where we're for some reason the- last bastion against the supernatural evil changing the world, but I'm not ready for gray hair."

Reluctantly, though, he climbs out of bed to get up and follow him.

"And yeah, um, I can go with you. I was sort of wondering how you'd feel about me bringing... more of my stuff?"

Jon does stop to give Martin a proper look for that, shaking his head. "I'll save my judgement, but know it is there. Next you'll tell me you're going to dye your hair when it really starts going grey."

Once in the kitchen he goes for the sandwiches Martin left in the fridge, not particularly interested in one handed cooking when a meal was already available. Before he could ask if Martin wanted that or not Martin's question gives him pause and he glances over.

"Well yes, I- I would like that very much." He turns back to the fridge. "You ah, you can stay as often as you like. I did give you a key for a reason, you know."

Martin can feel his face heat up for a multitude of reasons, even as he settles down at a seat at the small table in his kitchen. "First of all, yes, I absolutely am going to dye my hair when it starts to all go. And secondly, um-"

He watches Jon at the fridge for a moment, before tiredly scrubbing at one of his own eyes.

"By some of my stuff I sort of meant. All of my stuff? Maybe? I don't have a billion things, honest."

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