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catgirlthecrazy · 4 years

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To Love and To Cherish

After being extremely mean to Jon and Martin in my last fic, I had to make it up to them with 2,000 words of domestic softness (and a side helping of character development)

AO3

Summary: What if the Scottish Honeymoon lasted through retirement?

***

Martin was washing dishes when the fog rolled in. He didn't notice it right away. He was bent over the kitchen sink and didn't see much beyond the plates and soapy water. It wasn't until Martin straightened to work a kink out of his back that he saw the soft white curtains of vapor drifting across the yard. And Jon was down in the village at the moment, and hadn't said when he planned to come home.

When he'd first come to Scotland for years ago, that had been enough to send him into a panic attack. Slumped against the kitchen counter, knees hugged to his chest, sweating and struggling to breathe for god knew how long until Jon came home and found him like that. He'd held Martin's hand, softly rubbing circles in his palm. Come on Martin, breathe with me, he'd said, voice soft and steady as a highland cow. Breathe in to a count of ten.

Decades had passed since then. Somewhat less since his last real panic attack. Martin knew now, with a rock solid certainty, that Jon would come back. He knew he had friends waiting for him.

Still. Martin Blackwood might not be Lonely anymore, but that didn't mean the scars couldn't ache in the wrong weather. He stared out the window into the fog, hands still dripping with suds. He could remember the day when that fog had filled his eyes and lungs and heart and mind. When he'd been certain that no one in the world cared if he lived or died, and that he would spend the rest of eternity with that numbing fog. Without even the mercy of death to look forward to.

Martin closed his eyes and breathed in. One. Two. He thought of Sophie and Rasheed, who ran the chemist's shop down in the village and invited them to dinner every once a week. Three. Four. Their children, Maryam and Noah, who Martin had known since they came home from the hospital and were now graduated from university. Five. Six. Robin and Daniel, who ran the pub that Jon and Martin went to every Wednesday, and had done so ever since taking it over from Robin's father ten years ago. Seven. Eight. Georgie and Melanie, who hosted Christmas every year down in London. Nine. Ten. Daisy and Basira, who came up to visit for two weeks every summer. Now hold.

Jon. Who woke up beside him every morning. Who could go on and on about the strangest things. Whose brusque demeanor hid a surprising depth of kindness that still delighted Martin even to this day. Who'd plunged himself into that cold and numbing fog to save Martin, and pulled him out again with love. Who'd given up his own sight for a life with Martin, away from eyes and fear. Martin breathed out to another count of ten. He opened his eyes, and the fog was just fog. Just water vapor brought about by a closeness of air temperature and dew point. He went back to washing dishes.

Some time later, something meowed at his feet. Martin looked down and smiled. "Hello Percy," he said to the regal ball of fluff twining itself around his ankles. Percy looked up and meowed again.

"Don't give me that. It's not dinner time for another hour."

Percy gave him a withering look and meowed again, as if to say You are most certainly mistaken. Your clocks must be running slow.

"I think you'll find it's your clock that needs winding, not mine."

Another plaintive meow. You must make an exception! Can you not see how I am malnourished and dying?

"Not falling for that one either."

Percy gave him a look of pure pleading, and mewed.

"That won't work on me. Jon's the cat person, not me."

Percy's expression grew more plaintive. He mewed pitifully. Martin turned back to his dishwashing before he could give into weakness.

Percy's full name was Sergeant Major Percival Pike. The naming of cats was one thing Jon and Martin had never really been able to see eye to eye on. One day many years ago, Jon had come home with a stray kitten and informed Martin that they were calling her The Commandant. Martin hadn't had the heart to argue at the time. Jon had been so adorably besotted with the tiny thing, how could he tell him no? But Martin always felt a little ridiculous calling such a squeaky little fuzzball by such a weighty title. So he'd nicknamed her Manda, and called her that until she passed away from old age in front of the fireplace. Jon had only lightly teased him for it, and Manda didn't seem to mind answering to two different names.

When they adopted their second cat, three years after rescuing Manda, Jon had wanted to name him Lord Chancellor. This time, Martin put his foot down.

Please Jon, can't we give the cat a normal name?

Jon scoffed. What self respecting cat would accept a normal name?

You think a cat's going to care if it's called Whiskers? Or Mittens? Or Fluffy?

Yes, and their owners should be hanged for lack of creativity.

In the end, they compromised, and the cat was dubbed Lord Chancellor Reginald Roberts III. Martin called him Reggie. And so it continued for every subsequent cat they owned, down to their current pair. In addition to the Sergeant Major aka Percy, they were also graced with the presence of Brigadier General Eleanor Evans, aka Ellie. People who didn't know them well sometimes assumed they actually had four cats instead of two.

The scraping of a white cane on concrete announced Jon coming up the front walk. Percy alerted to the sound and trotted over to the front door to wait. A moment later Jon came in, Ellie following closely on his heels like a mother shepherding a slow kitten. She did that often these days. There had been a time some years ago when Jon had been clipped by a drunk driver while walking up the lane, fallen into a ditch, and broken his leg. Ellie had found him on her daily ramble outside, then gone home to Martin and refused to stop screeching until he followed her to see what the problem was. She had appointed herself Jon's official outdoor chaperone ever since. Jon didn't put up with overprotectiveness from humans, but apparently he could tolerate it in cats just fine.

"Sophie and Rasheed say hello," Jon said. He shuffled over to the counter and set down two bags. One had the logo of the chemist's shop, containing the month's assorted prescriptions (arthritis medications for Jon, blood pressure and thyroid medications for Martin). The other had a container of something thick and brown and spicy-smelling. "They insisted on giving us some of their leftover curry, so I think we're having that tonight, unless you have any objections."

Martin smiled. Percy leaned his front paws on the counter walls and meowed insistently, as if to say Yes, that is clearly meant for me, please serve it up straight away. "Sounds better than omelettes. I'll go put on some rice." He leaned in to kiss Jon on the cheek.

***

The curry was excellent. Rich and warm and exactly as spicy as Jon liked it. After dinner found him and Martin on the couch, Jon leaning sleepily into Martin's shoulder. The fabric of Martin's sweater was soft against Jon's cheek, and it smelled faintly of lavender scented soap. Somewhere close by, the Sergeant Major was purring like a well oiled car engine. No doubt he was using Martin's lap as his own personal heated cat bed. Good taste in laps, that cat.

"Let's see, where did we leave off," Martin said. Jon heard the distinctive paper scrape of flipping pages. Real paper books were something of a rarity these days, but Martin wouldn't hear of replacing his collection with more convenient electronic versions. Jon couldn't afford to be as picky. Paper books were satisfying to hold, but they didn't come with built in text-to-speech software. Except when Martin owned those books, then they sort of did.

"Ah, here we are." Martin cleared his throat.

"Nevertheless I long—I pine, all my days—

to travel home and see the dawn of my return.

And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea,

I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure."

Martin read in a calm, gentle voice. A slight shift in the cushions told him the Brigadier General was settling herself down above them on top of the couch. Aloof, but still part of things. With care, Jon reached up, found her chin, and offered scritches. The Brigadier General graciously accepted. What a picture they must make.

Jon didn't actually know what Martin looked like anymore. That was a statement that was true on a couple of different levels. Jon's mental image of Martin was still of a smiling, round-faced man with freckles in his late twenties. Jon knew Martin couldn't look like that anymore. His skin was dry and papery, his arms soft and flabby his hair thin and wispy and bald on top. And that was before considering the visual changes that other people (including Martin) commented on, like white hair and liver spots. Jon tried to overlay those facts onto his mental image of Martin, like a police artist trying to age up a photo of a long-missing person. But Jon would never know how closely that image matched the real thing.

On a deeper level though, Jon wasn't even sure if his image of young Martin was still accurate anymore. He'd made a point of memorizing every feature of Martin's face the day he'd decided to take his own sight. Every night for weeks after that, he'd conjured up the image in his mind, gone over every single detail with a mental microscope. He'd hoped that by sheer repetition Martin's face would wear a groove on his memory that could not be wiped away. But memory didn't work like that. Like an image that had been through the photocopier too many times, each act of recall changed the memory, altering and embellishing it until it was a caricature of its original form.

Once, that would have horrified Jon. He'd already had Sasha's face stolen from him, and no amount of terrible eldritch knowing power had been able to retrieve that knowledge for him. The thought of losing Martin's face? That had kept him up nights in a cold sweat. But if the decades since had taught him anything, it was this: the Not Them might have stolen Sasha's face from him, but it had also stolen every other part of her. Her voice, her laugh, even her manner. Jon still had every other part of Martin, waking up beside him each morning.

Jon awoke to gentle shaking. "Jon? Jon, you'll get a crick in your back if you fall asleep like that."

Jon grumbled and sat up. His spine screeched at him for forcing it back into a normal alignment. He grimaced. "What time is it?"

"Half past nine. You want to go to bed? Or I could make Percy let you have my lap."

Half past nine. In his younger days that barely counted as night. One of the lesser known adjustments of old age was the way it had completely obliterated his night owl tendencies. Jon considered Martin's offer. One last nap on his beloved's lap before moving to bed? "Tempting. But I think if I stay much longer I'll stick to it permanently."

With some considerable effort, Jon levered himself out of the couch. He offered a hand to help Martin up, which he readily took. "C'mere a minute," Martin said, tugging Jon gently back before Jon could turn towards the bedroom. Martin placed a hand under Jon's chin and tilted it up slightly. The gesture was both invitation and request, codified through decades of habit together. If the answer was no, Jon just needed to pull away, and that would be that.

Instead, Jon leaned in. There was the subtle but unmistakeable crackle of electricity that came before their lips met. Martin pressed his mouth into Jon's with a somewhat surprising level of intensity. Had something happened while he'd been out that day? Well, if it had, Martin would tell him. Or he wouldn't, if he didn't want to. Either way, it wasn't something Jon needed to know. Jon reached up to caress one cheek. It was dry and cracked, but covered in a soft peach fuzz he'd always been fond of. His other hand stretched around Martin's back, still soft and warm and huggable as an overlarge teddy bear. Jon might not know what Martin looked like anymore. But he didn't need to.

#jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my fanfic #i will handwave as much canon as I have to to give these boys the soft ending they deserve

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otomebois-bb · 5 years

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Kittens 🐱

(707 & MC)

Quick note: This may (probably will) have another part to it. It is EXTREMELY full of fluff, top to bottom. The idea of this was inspired by a chatroom I had recently with 707. Enjoy!

*Spoiler: just 707's real name; most people probably know it already though but I'm putting this here just in case. Oh, and his twin brother.*

~~~~~~~~

I stood staring into a window that viewed a room full of cats, both young, old, and even some in between. Next to me was Yoosung, whom I'd dragged with me to multiple pet stores and shelters in search for the perfect cat. This was now the seventh one we've gone to, and Yoosung was beginning to whine.

"MC, pleaseeee~! Let's leave! I'm bored, and LOLOL is having an event soon!" he complained.

I sighed. "Yoosung, we're not leaving until we find the right cat."

"Why are we even looking for cats in the first place?" Yoosung continued to whine.

I slapped my palm to my forehead. "Have you seriously forgotten? Today's my one-year-anniversay with Saeyoung, so I want to surprise him before our dinner date. A cat is the perfect gift — but I can't just give him any cat." I paused, then added, "Plus, with how much he pesters Jumin about his cat, I'd rather not see my boyfriend sent away in handcuffs..."

Yoosung scoffed. "You're going to trust him with a cat?"

I sent him a sharp glare, which immediately made him become so panicked, he looked like he wanted to disappear. "Yes. Besides, I moved in a month ago, so if I think he's somehow mistreating the cat, I'll scold him."

The blonde gulped. "O-okay. Perfect cat. But why did you bring me with you?"

"Because out of everyone in the RFA, not including myself, you know him best, so I'm hoping that with our judgement combined, we'll be able to pick out a cat best suited for him," I explained, simple and blunt, "so please take this more seriously."

Yoosung sighed. "Okay..."

We continued observing the cats; this time, Yoosung was more focused — probably because he realised the sooner he helped me, the sooner we would leave so he could get to his game, honestly. In total, there were about fifteen cats to choose from. The older ones were easy to spot since all of them were either resting or moving slowly; I didn't really pay them much attention since I didn't want to give Saeyoung a companion that would likely die within a year, more or less. So I focused more on the younger ones — the kittens that were running around and playing, which was a majority of the cats since it was kitty season. It was hard to pinpoint which one would be absolutely perfect for him without actually entering, I realised with a sigh.

Just as I was about to move towards the door, one tiny, adorable kitten approached the window I stood in front of and meowed at me, placing its paws on the glass. I blinked. The kitten was pretty small; if I had to guess its age, I'd say somewhere around one to two months old. The kitten's coat pattern was stunningly beautiful — short-haired, the main colour being white, with a decent amount of a pale orange on its head and back, and occasional dark grey/black stripes here and there, mainly on its back and stomach, but there were a few flecks on its head and face, too. The amount of colours (three) allowed me to peg the kitten as both a calico and a female, since only a very low percentage of calicos were male. Probably her most gorgeous feature was not her size nor her coat — but her eyes: big, round blue orbs that reminded me of beautiful crystals and were absolutely full of curiosity.

The kitten's beauty was remarkably enchanting.

Yoosung noticed the kitten and started to say, "What about–"

I cut him off quickly with, "I noticed," as I entered the cat room, the blonde close behind me. The moment I was inside, the kitten meowed at me and hopped off the cat tower she had been on to look at me through the window. She ran over to me and rubbed herself against my ankles, letting out a few more meows. I crouched down to pet her, and she pressed her head against my hand, purring loudly. A second later she suddenly ran away from me a few inches, towards a small toy — a ball with a tiny bell inside. She stared at the toy, then looked at me expectantly. Taking the hint that she wanted me to play with her, I grabbed the ball and rolled it slowly, and the kitten excitedly tossed it around for a bit. Once she was done with it, she came back to me for more petting.

I immediately glanced up at Yoosung, who I could tell was thinking the same thing I was: This is the one. Without needing a verbal request from me, he turned to get an employee. The employee told us to grab the kitten, so I did and put her into the cat carrier Yoosung held. Yoosung played with the kitten by putting his fingers through the bars while I signed the necessary papers to officially adopt the kitten. Finally, I paid the amount of money required, and off Yoosung and I were.

As we got into my car, Yoosung begged, "You have to let me come over to play with her!"

I chuckled, starting the car's engine. "Of course; if Saeyoung allows it."

"Oh! What are you going to name her?"

"Not sure. Since she's my gift to Saeyoung, I'm letting him name her. Now would you please cover the carrier with that towel already? You'll ruin the surprise!"

~~~~

I had Yoosung wait outside the door with the kitten while I entered, closing the door behind me so he couldn't be seen as I called, "Saeyoung! I'm home!"

The sound of my boyfriend stumbling over furniture in the dark (his house was often dark since he was practically a bat with a hatred for light) made me chuckle as I turned the living room light on. When Saeyoung finally appeared in my line of sight, he blinked multiple times at the sudden brightness, causing me to roll my eyes with a smile. He looked half a mess and half neat (but entirely hot), since his hair was more tamed in preparation for our dinner date later tonight; but his black tank top and blue jeans were heavily wrinkled, and he was barefoot.

Once his golden eyes adjusted to the light, they zeroed in on me and he grinned widely. "Hey MC! I uh, didn't expect you to be back so soon..."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Helping Yoosung with homework took less time than I expected," I said, sticking to the excuse I'd made up to get out and buy him a cat; since he originally wasn't in agreement of me leaving because of today being our anniversary. Before he could ask me how it went, I quickly added, "I have a surprise for you."

Saeyoung lifted an eyebrow, suspicious. "Surprise?"

"Yep. You're gonna love it~," I cooed, my hand reaching for the door knob behind me subtly.

"If it isn't more Honey Budda Chips, I doubt I will," he replied with a snicker.

I shook my head. "It's better."

"What could possibly be better than HBC?" he asked sarcastically. Then, after I'd opened the door and let Yoosung in, he started to say, "Yoosung? What are you–" his voice immediately died when his eyes landed on what Yoosung was holding. He pointed at it and demanded, "What's under that red towel?"

"Guess!" I excited urged.

Saeyoung frowned as he stared at it, likely taking into consideration its size as he rattled off, "A box of HBC? A game console? A–" he stopped the moment he heard it, his eyes instantly widening.

Meow!

"OH MY GOD YOU GOT ME A CAT?!" Saeyoung ripped the towel off and stared at the adorable calico with awe in his eyes.

I giggled at his reaction. "Surprise! She's almost two months old, and I decided to leave her name up to you — just don't name her after Jumin's cat," I warned.

He unlocked the cat carrier's door and gently picked up the kitten, holding her in front of his face. The kitten didn't seem to mind; in fact, she meowed happily and placed a paw on his mouth.

Saeyoung looked like he was about to cry.

I glanced at Yoosung for a moment, who shrugged, then focused on my boyfriend again. "S-Saeyoung? Is everything okay? Do you not like her? I had Yoosung help me pick her out, but if you don't like her, we can take her back and you can choose a different one..."

I slowly stopped talking after Saeyoung shushed me and hugged the kitten. "Don't take her back; she's perfect. I'm so happy."

I let out a sigh of relief, and smiled. "I'm really glad you like her."

He took the cat carrier from Yoosung and set it down, then handed the kitten to him (who was delighted to hold the adorable animal) so he could hug me. "Thank you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Saeyoung. What are you going to name her?"

"I'm not sure right now," he admitted, pulling away to look at her. She meowed, purring as Yoosung pet her. Saeyoung cleared his throat loudly, causing the blonde to rip his gaze off of the kitten; and the two shared a knowing look. I was about to question what that meant, when Saeyoung started, "I wasn't expecting you to get me a cat, and I am happy, but... I could be happier."

I tilted my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Saeyoung's face was as red as his hair as he awkwardly scratched his cheek. "Well... to be honest, you're not the only one Yoosung helped pick out a gift for today."

I raised an eyebrow, looking between the two men. "Oh? What did he help you pick out for me?"

Yoosung chuckled nervously. "W-well–"

"Shut up, don't you dare ruin my moment," Saeyoung hissed, effectively silencing him not only with his tone of voice but a sharp glare as well — causing the poor boy to stiffen and slouch in an attempt to make himself look smaller.

Saeyoung turned back to me with an adoring warm smile — a complete turn around from the harsh scowl he'd directed at Yoosung. He took both of my hands into his, and began, "MC. We've been together for a whole year now and came a long way to get to where we are at this moment. You're the reason I got my brother back, and the reason why I finally don't feel like I have to hide who I really am. You constantly put a smile on my face even when you're not around, and I'm so in love with you that it consumes me. I couldn't possibly be happier with anyone else."

*cue an oblivious MC*

I beamed. "Aww, Saeyoung, me too. But I don't understand what this has to do with your anniversary gift to me."

Saeyoung chuckled. "I was planning on doing this after dinner, but you surprised me with the kitten and it made me so happy, I've decided to just do it now. I know it's only been one year, but..." He let go of my hands, reaching into his back pocket and lowering himself onto one knee as he revealed a small red velvet box. Before he even opened it, showing off a beautiful yet simple diamond ring, I understood immediately and covered my open mouth as happy tears quickly formed in my eyes.

"Will you marry me?"

"Oh my god, Saeyoung, don't even bother asking twice; YES!"

My now fiance stood up with a huge grin, taking the appropriate hand and slipping the gorgeous piece of jewelry onto my ring finger. Then he held my face gently and kissed me; short yet full of love. I giggled after he pulled away. "Now I suddenly understand why you had asked for my ring size some weeks ago."

Saeyoung laughed. "Why else would I ask?"

"I don't know; a promise ring?" I shrugged.

He shook his head. "I love you, you oblivious human being."

"I love you too, Saeyoung."

~~~~

Bonus:

Saeran suddenly peeked his head around the corner. "Why was she yelling yes?" He noticed Yoosung and the kitten he held. "And why is there a cat here?"

"Anniversary gift, and–" I showed off the engagement ring that sparkled on my finger.

Saeran stared at it, nodded, then called to Saeyoung as he left, "About time, coward~."

"S-Saeran!!"

~~~~~~~~

END. PART TWO?

#saeyoung choi #mm saeyoung #mysmes saeyoung #mystic messenger #fanfic

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