Comes the summer rain (The Magnus Archives, Jon)

[Frick]

(Takes place half way through MAG 160 - pre-everything-goes-to-shit)

“It’s gonna take much more than ordinary love to lift this up.

Stars align they say when things are better than right now.

Feel the retrograde spin us round, round”

~ Pearl Jam, Retrograde

 

“How about a walk after I clean up the lunch things,” Martin asks, popping his head round the corner. “There are some quite good cows, and I’ve heard rumor of sheep as well.  I mean, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Jon looks up from the book he’s been staring at for the past hour. He doesn’t remember a word he’s read. He wants to say no, he’s just so… tired. But he’s been trying to convince Martin that he’s fine and he can’t think of a plausible excuse on the fly. They’ve been cooped up inside for so long, and Martin looks so hopeful, he just doesn’t have the heart to deny him. “All right,” he says and is instantly rewarded with the smile breaking over Martin’s face like the sun through the Scotland clouds.

“Good! I’ll just finish here and we can go.” Martin disappears back into the kitchen and there’s the sound of humming… humming... over the running water and clinking dishes.

Jon sighs to himself, but smiles too. Because even if he is feeling… well, the way he does… he’s happy that Martin is happy. An emotion that’s been in precious short supply, and one which Martin deserves. He estimates he has about ten minutes to pull himself together.

He stands, carefully, waiting for the room to do its slow tilt and settle. He wishes, for what must be the thousandth time, that the Scottish post wasn’t so bloody slow. Compelling Peter, then pulling Martin from the Lonely had taken more out of him than he’d realized and too much time has passed since he’d… fed his God, because he has the distinct sensation that It is feeding on him, as Jude so eloquently put it. His body feels threadbare - hold him up to the light and you could see through him - and he’s fairly certain he’s coming down with a cold, as well. Punishment from the Eye, or just bad luck, he supposes it doesn’t matter either way. He rubs a hand over his face, stuffs a handful of tissues into the pocket of his jeans, and meets Martin in the kitchen as he puts the last glass back in the cabinet.

They walk down the lane together, afternoon sunlight breaking through the clouds and casting a wan light over the hills. There are, indeed, cows and sheep and Jon is certain Martin thinks all cows are good cows, because of course he does. He tries to ignore the creeping congestion that’s gathering in his head, the heaviness in his lungs. To listen to Martin talking about the River Lochay that rushes along beside them, and about Batavaime Farm, which may or may not be haunted. But his nose is tickling and he’s beginning to worry that he’s going to start sneezing again.

Fortunately Martin steps away for a moment to greet a particularly curious cow and Jon takes the opportunity to blow his nose, hoping to head off the building urge. Instead it tips him over the edge. “Huh’idsshew!” He sighs. Maybe Martin didn’t…

“Bless you, Jon.” He did.

“Pardon.”

“You all right, then?”

“Yes.” He tries to suppress the shiver that cascades over him as the sun disappears behind a bank of clouds, but he sees Martin’s eyes narrow. “How far do you think this trail goes,” he asks.

Martin lets him change the subject, goes back to the story one of the villagers had told him about the farm. There is the scent of petrichor on the breeze and suddenly a spatter of rain ghosts down over them.

“Oh!” Martin says. “Oh shit!” But he’s grinning and he holds out his hand and Jon takes it and they run, together through the rain, chased only by the cold and the wet, nothing worse, back to the safe house and slam the door behind them.

Martin is unfazed by the drenching, but even after Jon changes into dry clothes, he can’t seem to stop shivering.
“I was thinking,” Martin says, then interrupts himself. “Jon, are you…”

Jon wants to say, yet again, that he’s fine, but suddenly realizes he is about to sneeze. He holds up a finger, “A moment,” he manages to say. He yanks a clean tissue from the box and raises it just in time to catch the first one. “Huh’Idsshhew!” A shaky inhale. Again? Maybe? Yes… “Iiishhhew!” Another? He’s uncertain, poised on the edge and then a drop of rain slides from his hair down the bridge of his nose and he shudders forward again. “Huh-itchhew! Aahshoo!”

When he emerges from the fit, Martin is there with one of his sweaters and he pulls it gently over Jon’s head, then draws him over to the couch. They curl up together. Jon rests his head on Martin’s shoulder. “I’m not… feeling well,” he admits. Martin puts an arm around him.

“I’ll make you some tea.”  

[Agaba]

This is lovely, Martin is sooo sweet 😍

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

This was so adorable! Martin has become my favorite with Jon a good second ever since I was introduced to the series.

[March Hare]

I don't know this show, but I am HERE for your writing.

On 5/19/2020 at 8:59 AM, Frick said:

His body feels threadbare - hold him up to the light and you could see through him - and he’s fairly certain he’s coming down with a cold, as well.

THIS sort of thing? Yah, it pushes all of the buttons. ALL of them.

Also I love these spellings. VERY much.

[Frick]

@Agaba Thank you! 

@Pyrus_Fangmon Thank you! Jon/Martin = best boys.

@March Hare You da best! Your comments always make me smile. And you're willing to read me for fandoms you don't know!! Thank you! (Also, if you're in the market for a kick ass cosmic horror podcast that will unexpectedly hit you in the face with all of the feels, check out The Magnus Archives.)

[RavenWatson]

I love them both