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Jon scrubs his hands across his face and groans. His tired eyes are burning, and he can barely focus on the paper in front of him. The more he tries the harder it becomes, and the frustration twists in his stomach. He rolls up his sleeves, half-heartedly trying to straighten out the cuffed fabric before giving up entirely on looking presentable.
He digs his fingers into his hair and tugs, hoping the action will relieve a bit of the frustration and wake him up. Instead, he's overwhelmed by the realization of just how long his hair has gotten. It brushes the top of his shoulders, and Jon is pretty sure it's the longest it's ever grown. It feels sort of foreign in his hand, but he's pretty sure that has less to do with the length and more to do with the exhaustion making everything feel far away and abstract.
Jon huffs, adding 'getting a haircut' to the seemingly endless mental list of things he'll have to do if the world doesn't end.
He digs his nails into his arm, leaving little half-moon imprints, and tries to focus on the paper again. The words are starting to blur together when he hears a knock.
"Come in," he says, simultaneously annoyed and grateful for the interruption. He straightens his papers out and tries to give off the appearance of productivity.
"Hi," Martin says, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him.
"Hi," Jon says, smiling softly. "What do you need? Try to make it brief, I have quite a lot of work to catch up on."
His inner voice scoffs at him, pointing out that not only was he not accomplishing any work, but also that Martin leaving the room is the last thing he wants.
"Right, well..." Martin says, sitting down in the chair opposite Jon's desk. "I-I just wanted to check on you. See how you're doing after the whole...kidnapping thing?"
"Oh." Jon says, "I'm fine. Thank you."
Jon knows the appropriate response is to ask Martin how he's doing, but he's too tired to summon the words. Silence falls over the room and Jon can't help but notice Martin's discomfort. He has a sort of flustered look, and he can't quite meet Jon's eyes or look at him for longer than a second without looking away. He feels a familiar rush of paranoia, the spiral's whisper still entrenched in the back of his mind. Logically, he knows Martin isn't a threat, but watching him fidget in his chair wearing an unreadable expression is making Jon inexplicably apprehensive.
"Why do you look so nervous?" Jon asks, the words spilling out of his mouth without any thought. Static floods his mind, and he's too worn out to repress it. He feels guilt tug at him as he watches Martin struggle not to answer.
"Y-you just...you just look really hot right now," he says, his face twisted up like the words, or stopping them, is causing him physical pain.
"What do you mean?" Jon asks, quickly. "We're...in a basement. I'ts hardly warm down here, let alone hot. Especi-"
He feels the pull of static again, and Martin cuts him off.
"Attractive, I mean. You look incredibly attractive right now." Martin says, sharply adding, "Jon, stop doing that!"
Jon's brain can't process the words fast enough. His impulse takes over, and he speaks without considering the consequences. He shakes his head slightly, his eyebrows knitted together.
"Attractive?" he asks, "you're nervous because you think I'm...attractive?"
"I'm nervous because all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you. This whole...scruffy professor thing is a good look on you, and I want you so badly I literally want to scream." he says, "Seriously, Jon."
His eyes are wide, rapidly transitioning from angry to embarrassed and back again.
Jon looks at his hands and twists his fingers, uncomfortable and guilty. He takes a deep breath before speaking, considering his words to ensure he doesn't ask anything else.
"I'm sorry," he says, sincerely. "I'm exhausted, and it's harder to control when I'm so...out of it."
Martin crosses his arms, his anger still written across his face. He lets out a small "hmmph" clearly unimpressed with Jon's apology.
"But that's...not," Jon sighs, "that doesn't excuse it, and I am sorry. I will do my best to practice...restraint. In the future."
They stare at each other for a moment as Martin tries to maintain a stern and assertive look. His empathy overtaking his frustration as Jon stares at him with a sad, misbehaving puppy look. Martin sighs, his eyes softening.
"It's fine," He says, trying his best to sound, at the very least, annoyed, "It's...fine. Just don't...do it again, yeah?"
Jon nods, still wearing his guilt across his face.
"And get some sleep," Martin says, standing up to leave.
"Right," Jon says, pausing before adding "So...the scruffy professor thing-"
"No. Nope. We are not doing this," He says, "I am leaving, and we are forgetting this conversation ever happened."
He opens the door, glances back at Jon and says "Go. to. bed."
Jon smiles fondly,
"Wait, Martin?" He asks, just as Martin turns to leave.
"What?" He says, too nervous to turn around.
"For the record," Jon says, already regretting the words but hoping they might alleviate some of Martin's embarrassment. "I also think you're...attractive."
Martin makes a disgruntled noise, closing the door heavily behind him.