Chapter Text
Home had never felt like this before, not as far as Martin could remember it. The nooks and crooks of it now made him feel warm and safe and comfortable, and more than anything he felt simply welcome there no matter where he went. The silences were good, but more often than not there were now other sounds mixed in: chatter, music, the faded nonsense of an audiobook being listened to in a different room or on a different floor, casually without headphones plugged in, each sound unafraid to make itself known. The laughter was the best of it, and Martin had never realised how desperately he’d needed to hear Jon laughing when it wasn’t him who made him laugh. It was reassuring to know that they weren’t each others’ whole world and the only people who could still touch deeper than the surface. Tim brought life into them both, made them feel more whole and less strained, he gave them the space that they hadn’t known they’d needed while clinging to each other for everything since... since the end had come and gone.
And then it was Halloween. It dawned as just another day amongst the rest, a day which now felt significant only because they'd chosen to make it so. There was no unspeakable horror waiting outside the door, no particular threat to keep them occupied, and the best place Martin could think of to spend such a day was in bed. Beside him were the two men he now shared his life with - one who was more than half his heart to him, and one who was just introducing himself into their lives yet already appeared an unseparable piece of the story they’d woven together. It felt almost unreal to see what had become of them now, with Jon’s arm wrapped around Tim’s waist and Tim resting against his chest, eyes closed and the lingerings of a smile upon his lips. Jon was reading a book to them both, balancing it over the thin long fingers of his free hand, and now Martin curled up closer, rested his head into Tim's hair and the part of Jon’s shoulder left free for him in case he'd like to join them there. Jon opened his embrace to him, and Martin moved his own arm around Tim between them when the man let out a small complaint at Jon withdrawing his arm from him. It landed on Martin now, took him in and brought him closer, and Martin, too, closed his eyes to Jon’s steady voice.
It was raining heavily, the perfect weather for such a dreadful story as the one being read now - yet horror was last in Martin’s mind. Instead he was looking back on this journey they’d been through together, and he couldn’t help but feel wonder at how much his life had changed, how much more it was now than before. What they had together, all three of them, was healing for everyone. It had brought hope into their circumstances where before even amongst the domesticity, the veneer of the normalcy of it all, despair had been leaking in through the cracks. Now Martin felt stronger, and he knew that Jon did, too; he was different these days, more confident, more calm, and he’d lost that edge which had felt like he was always expecting to fall apart at any moment, and which Martin hadn’t known how to dull. And Tim... it wasn’t so easy moving over his issues. Of course he still struggled. He was still half-way somewhere, and nobody really knew where yet: what would he be in the end, who would he become upon knowing his powers, and once he’d regain full control over himself? It was a scary path to be walking, but Martin liked to think that it helped him that he wasn’t travelling it alone. Jon was doing his best to train him, and Tim was... listening, hearing him; they shared quiet, low conversations full of strange vibrating energies and collisions of powers together, and although Martin rarely joined them - it was their time together, to be what they really were - he was welcome to come and go as he wanted. He was never locked out of it, even if he chose to stay away, but the truth was that just like he had his moments with Jon, those nights they slept very close to each other and held one another like the skin that separated them was too much, Tim needed closeness with him just the same, if not more so than Martin did. Watching them grow with each other, in comfort and trust and even a twisted, shared sense of humour that more often than not relied heavily upon their otherness from humans, was a pleasure for Martin, and a relief at the same time.
And well, he had his own time with Tim, too. That hadn’t changed. He was now learning to rely upon it, to expect it, to let himself want it and look for it without fearing he was too much or that he wasn’t enough. Sometimes it was physical, and making love together was something they were both getting quite good at, but sometimes it was as it had been the first afternoon they’d shared with one another as lovers: they’d simply sit in quiet, like now, listening to a story or music, and this wordless closeness was all they needed.
As Martin’s mind drifted further, Jon paused his reading. He looked down, his gaze staying on Tim for some time before he moved it up to Martin, who looked back at him curiously.
”I was just - thinking,” Jon said after some time had passed, and Tim lifted his head and raised his brows too at the abrupt pause to the story Jon had been telling. There weren’t many things that got Jon to stop once he began reading, and it seemed to be as true for a book as it was for a statement. ”How far we’ve come. And I...”
”And you?” Tim continued when Jon’s words trailed off. Martin smiled, closing his eyes again and nuzzling his head down into Jon’s shoulder.
”And I,” Jon continued with a smile in his voice, although the words were still thoughtful and slow, ”am happier for it. I really am. So... who should I thank - the Stranger, maybe, for bringing you back into our lives? That doesn’t seem right somehow.”
”Fuck that,” Tim scoffed, and Martin let out a small laugh.
”I’m just glad that we’re all here,” Martin said in turn.
After his words there was a silence through which the rain made itself quite present in the room. At the end of it Jon readjusted the book on his lap and picked up from where he’d left off: he was still smiling well into the story, and Martin loved him for it. He loved him so much - him and Tim, who turned his head and brushed their noses together with a warm breath colliding with Martin’s lips.
”I’m happy to be here,” Tim muttered under his breath, his quiet words barely breaking against Jon’s voice in the background.