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[ his gut twists, making him nauseous, panic just there trying to take over. this was a mistake. he doesn't want crowley to think badly of jon when jon is trying. most of the time, anyway.

but his glance shoots up at the order, unmistakable for anything else, even if the fingers against his chin are gentle and familiar. crowley has always been so gentle with him, even when he doesn't really deserve it. even when he knows crowley must be.. frustrated.

and that example is.. unfair. of course martin would be furious if aziraphale was hurting crowley, of course he'd want to protect crowley, or at least say something. martin would be devastated if crowley was being treated badly by the man he'd loved for six-thousand years. ]

.. No. [ his lips part, then shut again, the stricken look returning. ] But I don't know what else to do, Crowley.

[What should Martin do is a question that he's not sure he knows the answer to; he only knows that this is so clearly hurting him, so obviously unhealthy. Martin is unhealthy. He's seen it in small snatches before, but he hadn't looked too deeply until now, not sure if it was a place where he was wanted.

But now he can't help but really wonder; does Martin stay with Jon because it feels good to be needed, to be loved by someone who has to be cared for, watched over, protected from themselves?]

You can't make him not a monster. He's got to make that choice. [Aziraphale was kind to him, gave him room to be kind in turn, but he never could've made Crowley the way he is, couldn't have forced it with guilt or love. He had to fight his nature every step of the way by his own choice.] And every time you look away, it seems he chooses wrong. He's not learning.

[Agnes. Elias. Now Dorian. Jon can't seem to help himself. Crowley can feel how intense the Eye is focused, can't help but suspect there's more than an innocent conversation happening in there.]

You've got to be either his boyfriend or his mum, not both. Trying that is going to kill you.

[ it's all so tangled up, and martin's so tired. not that long ago, things had looked so hopeful: they were going to try to make some kind of life here together, they were going to figure things out. but is it always going to be like this, no matter how little or how much time they have here? is jon always going to give in? is he always going to forget to talk to martin, to not think about scaring him and hurting him until it's already done?

but he'd gone into the lonely for him. jon told him about it, about how he'd followed martin in, pulled him back out, freed him. he loves martin, and he's maybe the only person who ever has or ever will.

the thought of it feels a lot like despair, actually.

in the room at his back, he can feel the pull of the watcher, the archivist's power to compel. he can very nearly see the scene-- dorian smug and enraptured, jon's hungry, heavy stare. martin never should have come here; it was always going to end this way. ]

.. I'm going to go home, [ he says at last, feeling emptied even of tears. ] I'm-- I'm sorry for wasting your time, Crowley. [ crowley hadn't signed up for this, and he definitely deserves more from martin than he's had lately. ]

[This isn't any kind of victory; Crowley might dislike Jon a lot, but he's never wanted to drive a wedge between these two, knowing that it would hurt Martin to come to these realizations.

He leans in, pressing his lips to Martin's brow, and in that instant they're back in his flat where they started.]

You're never a waste of time, love. [Even if it's for Jon.

He draws back, hoping to meet Martin's gaze, his head tilted to the side in question.] Tea, or wine? Or whiskey?

[He's not making his presence a question or an offer, he won't let it be something that Martin has to say yes to, because he knows he won't. He'll go, if he's told to, but until then he's going to help how he can.]

[ he stands in his flat, glancing around himself helplessly, feeling lost. he should.. do something, probably. water his plants, or think about starting dinner. he could clean the bathroom, or do some laundry, or work on the institute's expenses. there are a lot of things he could do, he's sure. but he can't make sense of any of them, and when he tries to let himself focus on any of the mundane tasks of the day, his thoughts drift away from them.

he sort of just wants to go away. completely away. the thought's not a strong one, though, any more than any of the others are, so he glances up when crowley speaks and offers an unconvincing smile. ]

Whiskey would be.. good. [ and then, to caveat: ] You don't have to stay. I-- I'm probably just going to take a nap. [ or maybe he'll put a stupid movie on. something easy, something he doesn't have to think about. ]

[Rather than address it directly, the offer for him to leave, Crowley decides the best course of action is to just take a little more control of the situation.

That want is lingering at the edge of his awareness, and he's not much a fan of Martin having those thoughts.]

Go get a bath started, yeah? I'll scare up some whiskey.

[He needs a second to text Aziraphale just to let him know that he won't be around for at least the evening, maybe tomorrow morning depending how this plays out. But he doesn't want to pull out his phone while Martin is around, so he kisses his forehead and heads to the kitchen to get a glass.]

[ he offers a small smile as thanks, grateful that crowley's staying even if the gratitude feels a little distant right now. maybe the other man's right. maybe he just needs a long bath and to get a little bit drunk. maybe he'll feel more like himself again afterward.

he turns to head toward the bathroom, stripping his clothes off once he gets there and starts the water. it's not.. terrible, is it? that jon was with dorian. jon has his own life, martin shouldn't be trying to control it. but he had asked him not to meet with him like that without talking about it first, like jon had asked martin not to.. give himself to people intending to hurt him.

is it the same thing? is it fair for martin to be upset with jon? his head hurts thinking about it, so he just.. doesn't, pushing it away again as he slides into the nearly scalding bath. ]

[He ends up summoning one of the bottles of whiskey from his own apartment, making a highball because he highly doubts that Martin is going to enjoy drinking it straight.

When he finds Martin in the bathroom, there's a glass in his hand and he's shed his jacket, sunglasses and boots and socks, making himself look a bit softer.]

Made you a whiskey highball, it's a strong one. [He stops at the back of the sunken tub, crouching down by Martin's shoulder, and holding out the glass.] Want some company in there or nah?

[ his curls are damp, and the water smells like lavender from the little bath bomb he'd dropped into it. he tips his head back as crowley joins him, smile just a little stronger than it was before, and lifts his arm from the bath to take the glass.

the question makes him pause to consider it, trying to give it due thought. but honestly, even at his worst, he doesn't mind being touched by crowley, and this isn't.. what happened with jon. so finally he nods, sliding forward in the bath to give crowley room. ]

.. Thank you. For.. everything you do for me. [ he takes a careful sip of the drink, grateful for the burn of the alcohol, hopeful it will help him relax. ] This is good.

Edited 2020-03-15 01:41 (UTC)

[By the time he slides into the bath, his clothes have disappeared without him having taken off a single item, his hair pulled up into a bun on top of his head so it doesn't get wet. He tucks himself behind Martin, arms loose around his chest.

He swallows down the instinct to balk at the thanks, knowing it isn't helpful right now.]

S'alright, I don't mind doing it, and you've done plenty for me.

[Almost exactly this, even.]

[ when crowley settles, martin eases back into him, leaning his head against his shoulder and resting the glass on the side of the tub. he.. has done something a little like this for crowley before, hasn't he? he hadn't forgotten, it was just.. so easy to support him, to be there for him, and somehow, he always thinks it's so much harder for people to do the same for him.

but it's like crowley's told him, isn't it? he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be.

he nods slightly against the other man's shoulder eventually, his other hand slipping from the water to curl over one of crowley's, thumb stroking his knuckles. ] Still, I-- It's just.. really nice to have you here.

Mm, well, I'll be here as long as you need.

[If that turns out to be a few days, he can make it work. Aziraphale won't mind if he needs to prioritize Martin for a little while, and Crowley would rather not leave him alone if he's feeling fragile.]

Want to talk about it, or would you prefer a distraction?

[ he's quiet for a few moments as he drains the glass and pushes it away on the side of the tub. he strokes fingers over the back of crowley's hand then, petting absently at the skin, trailing across his knuckles. ]

I.. I guess I'm just.. disappointed. We talked, we were going to try to make some kind of life here, since we won't get that at home. He.. [ he trails off, swallowing. ] I love him, and I-- I know how hard it is for him to ignore the Eye, but sometimes I.. it's hard to accept that Jon's always going to give in.

[ it's an incredibly powerful eldritch monster, and martin and jon are just humans. jon can't help it, and fighting it takes so much out of him, and martin knows that, but it doesn't make it any easier. ]

[He allows Martin his silence, waiting for him to work out what he wants to say about this, and managing to swallow a sigh when the answer comes.]

How much leeway does he get? This — [He lets out a breath, a warm breath of air against the back of Martin's neck.] It's not as if Dorian showed up, force fed him a Statement. Seems like Jon agreed to meet him there, he had plenty of time to tell you. He's not an animal with no self-control, he's gotta be responsible for this shit.

I-- I don't know, [ he admits quietly, distressed. ] I feel like he wasn't this bad at home, but-- but he's been here longer, and he's further along in time than I am, too.

[ he glances down at the surface of the water, trailing fingers through it with a shaky sigh. ]

I know how hungry I am, and the Lonely and the Eye don't feed the same way. What if I'm asking too much? I-- [ he rubs both hands over his face, wilting sadly back against crowley. ] I'm so.. terrible at relationships.

Martin. [That firmer tone again, he finds it useful when the other man starts floundering and getting lost in his own thoughts.] You've not asked him not to feed himself, you've asked him to keep a promise. And he couldn't do that for you.

[It's a question of respect, in his mind.]

This isn't you. We manage alright, don't we?

[They aren't dating, but it's a relationship, and they're respectful of each other's wishes and boundaries. And he's a demon, for fuck's sake.]

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