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Just This Once, A Happy Ending

Summary:

Martin had never been the type of person to listen to popular music. It made him feel ridiculously pretentious to say it, but it all felt so superficial. All those songs about love and sex and breakups felt so… detached. Emotionless even as the singer was supposedly pouring their heart out.

He supposed this was part of the reason he liked poetry. Good poetry, where the feelings are so strong you can almost taste them, where you can hear the sounds pinned down by ink on the paper. Martin had been trying his hand at writing his own stuff recently, but it was never much good. It always felt so cliche.

This is probably just a long way of saying that he liked a good story, and definitely a roundabout way of explaining why he enjoyed listening to the Mechanisms so much.

(or to put it another way, Jarchivist Sims is Jonny D'Ville and Martin doesn't realise. Gay shenanigans occur. Now with Angst™)

Chapter 1: October 21st, 2007

Notes:

hey y'all, hope you enjoy this fic!
title is from "Justice" by the Mechanisms, from their album High Noon Over Camelot

also just a disclaimer! the Mechs are a band that several of the voice actors from TMA are in. they are Not TMA canon and they are Not just jonny sims' band: there are 9 other (very talented) people that all contributed to their music. so check them out on Spotify if you haven't already!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Martin had never been the type of person to listen to popular music. It made him feel ridiculously pretentious to say it, but it all felt so superficial. All those songs about love and sex and breakups felt so… detached. Emotionless even as the singer was supposedly pouring their heart out.

He supposed this was part of the reason he liked poetry. Good poetry, where the feelings are so strong you can almost taste them, where you can hear the sounds pinned down by ink on the paper. Martin had been trying his hand at writing his own stuff recently, but it was never much good. It always felt so cliche.

This is probably just a long way of saying that he liked a good story, and definitely a roundabout way of explaining why he enjoyed listening to the Mechanisms so much.

-----

One of Martin’s friends had dragged him along that night. Erin had a habit of making him go to open mic nights with her, since the music there was normally the kind of weird stuff she liked, and Martin had a habit of going along with it “just this once”. He’d halfheartedly used his normal excuses: “not my thing”, “too loud”, “too many people” or even (as a last resort) “I’m too tall, I’ll get in the way”. As usual, it hadn’t helped.

There were a few bands playing tonight, but Erin was here for one in particular (the Mechanics, maybe? Martin wasn’t sure). She’d heard about it through a friend of a friend who’d seen a post on Facebook, so here they were. ‘Here’ being the upstairs room of their local pub, seeming barely big enough for both the equipment at the front and the few rows of chairs for the audience. He’d insisted on sitting at the back, close to the stairs in case he needed to leave. It was the right choice, he thought as Erin was immediately distracted by a friend. Martin was left sitting on his own, fidgeting with his fingers and checking his phone every couple of minutes as the room slowly filled. Finally, all the seats were taken. The keyboard and drum were brought out. The lights dimmed. A door he hadn’t noticed before opened, and suddenly Martin felt a little better about the next hour. 

The first person through the door was lanky, almost painfully so, but made up for it with a poofy white shirt and loose crimson trousers. His violet waistcoat was accentuated with gold buttons that matched the jewellery shining from his ears, neck and fingers. Emerald-lensed goggles sat atop loosely braided hair. As this strangely dressed man looked towards the audience for the first time, Martin’s heart stopped. Amber eyes stood out against his dark skin, with black lightning erupting from their corners to slash across his cheeks. Dark purple lipstick was artfully smeared across his mouth. 

Martin just couldn’t stop staring. Christ, he looked incredible. He didn’t pay much attention to the other five people that entered, although he vaguely noticed that some of them were dressed in the same steampunk style as the first man. It took a sharp burst of feedback, surrounded by the quieter sounds of instruments being tuned, to snap him out of it. A person dressed as a soldier stood with the man behind a tall microphone and the others gathered around their instruments. 

As a violin started to play from the side of the stage, the man with the amber eyes took a breath. Something in him just… clicked. And he started to sing.

 

Like whisky laced with gasoline, we’ll get you stinking drunk

So shut your face and settle down, you sneering little punks

For space is vast and you are small, it’s black and bitter cold

The book is lying open: there are tales to be told.”

 

Martin was vaguely aware his mouth hung open. That voice was… Martin didn’t think he had the words to describe it well enough. It was deep and gravelly, with some tinge of ferality barely held back. Every word dripped with confidence, the faint aura of nervousness he had once carried shredded in that first note on the violin. The space was too small for him to move around, yet he somehow managed to convey the motion of swaggering without a single step. The lyrics, with their promise of a story, intrigued-- no, ensnared him in a way that reminded Martin just how mediocre his attempt at poetry was.

Martin had never liked busy places, always choosing to escape to somewhere less populated; now, though, he couldn’t have left if he wanted to. (He absolutely didn’t.)

The song continued for another verse before the music quietened and the beautiful man in front of the mic spoke. 

“Killers and renegades, liars and thieves, we are the Mechanisms! A band of immortal space pirates roving through the universe on the starship Aurora having fun, violence and... more violence whenever possible.” A pause for a laugh: he already knew how this went. “Allow me a brief moment of self-indulgence to introduce to you the crew of our mighty starship.

“Dr Carmilla, our esteemed creator,” he said with a sneer, pointing to the women at the keyboard.

“Drumbot Brian, I believe you’re our pilot:” this to the man in the top hat with the small drum.

“Nastya Rasputina, engineer” was the one playing the violin.

“Ivy Alexandria, our archivist,” with a sarcastic sigh, pointing to the woman with the flute.

“The Toy Soldier… frankly, we have no idea what it does,” he said with a tilt of the head to the person in military costume next to him.

“And finally, the one you've all been waiting for: myself! Jonny D’Ville, your humble captain!” As if on cue, ‘Drumbot Brian’ corrected his title to “First Mate!”, at which the man -- Jonny -- rolled his eyes.

“Together, we are… the Mechanisms! ” Jonny said triumphantly into the mic with a dramatic gesture as the music started up again. Together, the Mechanisms completed their first song, followed by several more each as fantastic as the first.

-----

Afterwards, when Martin remembered to go downstairs, his head was spinning. He felt the same way he did when he left the cinema: dreamlike, dazed, but on top of the world. This was definitely worth it, Martin thought to himself. He didn’t think he’d been so sure about anything in years.

“Hey, Martin!” Erin called to him from across the room, pushing through the now-thinned crowd. (Some had left partway through, claiming this “just wasn’t their kind of music”. If Martin had been paying attention to them, he would’ve been appalled by their rudeness. As it was, his focus was locked on Jonny D’Ville and his golden eyes.)

“Oh! Erin… hi. Um, what- what did you think?” he asked.

Erin grins, her smile filling her eyes. “It. Was. Awesome!! Probably one of the best live bands I’ve seen in a while, actually. I wonder if they’re on Spotify? Hm. Probably not,” she rambled. Erin’s eyes (brown, nowhere close to that shade of amber that Martin would write about for the next few weeks months) held on his and somehow her smile got wider. “Thank you so so so much for coming with me!”

Martin looked away, caught himself thinking about how it didn’t matter, considering how quickly she’d left him behind, and tried to just stop thinking. It worked, at least for a little bit. “No, no, it’s fine. I- I had a great time, actually. Um… yeah. It was- It was good. It was really good.” And oh God, he could feel himself blushing, which Erin was definitely going to call him on, and then he’d have to explain this stupid crush on the lead singer--

Oh.

 

Fuck.

Notes:

hope you enjoyed this first chapter! warning: both of them are 11/10 disaster gay from here
comments and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated :)

beta read by the fantastic hey-hey-hey-i-aint-gay on tumblr
you can find me on tumblr at i-opingus-the-dingus
jonny's Look in this chapter can be found here