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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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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."

Jon had plenty of teasing left for the hair conversation, but thankfully the moving in part of their discussion was definitely more important and distracting. "You want to move in?" He shouldn't be surprised, honestly, given everything it was a pretty natural step. Just last night he admitted Martin was all he had so really, not shocking?

But he still is, a little, though he's quick to nod. "Yes, I mean- of course. If it gets you out of this neighborhood and this dreadful apartment, no offense to the place." That's a lie, full offense. "I suppose I don't have to warn you living with me might be more dangerous for you, given everything going on."

Martin snorts at that last part, shaking his head as he reclines his head tiredly on his arms on the table. "I'd rather it be a little more dangerous, honestly, if it means I'm able to keep a better eye on you. I think the most detrimental thing to my health so far has been worrying myself sick over you, if I'm gonna be honest here."

It's you, Jon. You were the cause of that gray hair.

"Anyway." He turns his face to yawn into his wrist. "Sandwiches."

"It- honestly Martin, go back to sleep, you don't need to be up." Jon interrupts himself to nag before heading back to his task. "I'm afraid people like Jude Perry would prove far more detrimental, but here's to hoping we keep work and homelife somewhat separate." He'd rather Martin keep all his grey hairs rather than be burnt alive or something.

He grabs the sandwiches, placing them on the table and within Martin's easy reach before going to get napkins and the like. "Is there ah... anything large here you'd like to bring? I mean take no issue if you'd prefer my flat arranged differently. It's ah- it's going to be your home too, as it were."

"I'm fine, Jon, people yawn sometimes when they're waking up." He blinks drowsily at him, before straightening up to reach for his sandwich, unwrapping it slowly. "And just- my laptop? That probably doesn't count as a 'large item,' does it. I'm not really attached to much of my stuff. Spend half a year away from it and you break any attachments pretty quick."

He pauses, then takes a bite.

"--you don't think this is a terrible idea, do you? I just thought- I'm rather used to having you around all the time."

"And some people didn't sleep as well as they should have last night." Jon offers in reproach, though he hands Martin a bottle of water and joins him. "Fair enough. I suppose you've spent enough time over to know the ins and outs of my flat."

He considers Martin's question a few moments before shaking his head. "I honestly don't think we have enough information to know but... if we're talking purely what we want then I think it's a splendid idea. I'm- I want you around. I want you to move in. Outside forces concern me but I don't want us to have to keep our distance to keep safe."

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