#we done

among the waters

alt versions;

Goblin “Week” 2023: Goblin #6!

but your brain won’t let you do that thing

so you go into Call Waiting mode, watching the time tick down while terrified of not being able to do the important thing, but you just Can’t make yourself do it

and you end up missing the deadline even though you had plenty of time to do it

as promised, here’s the other prompt anon requested! thank you again!

11. things you said when you were drunk 

______________

It had been a long time since Martin had gotten drunk.

It had been, he thought fuzzily, a long time since he’d drank, full stop. The last time he could recall was back when the original archives crew still went out to pubs together on Friday nights, and one week Jon had been cajoled into joining them. Martin remembered everyone getting a little drunk that night, but Jon had really put it away; something had been on his mind, clearly, though Martin had never actually found out what. The two of them were still on rocky ground back then, neither of them sure of what, exactly, the other’s deal was.

Martin couldn’t recall most of that evening with any clarity, but he did remember staring tipsily across the table at Jon, who was arguing messily and good-naturedly with Sasha about something. He’d looked so unintimidating then, very nearly charming, in fact, and at the time Martin had been fairly surprised.

Now, of course, two years, one boyfriend, and four glasses of wine later, Martin was better prepared.

“You’re sweet when you’re drunk,” he told Jon, fondly.

“I’m not sweet. ‘N I’m not drunk,” Jon said, the veracity of both statements challenged by the fact that Jon was sitting in Martin’s lap, giving him wine-sour kisses as he said them.

“Whatever you say,” Martin said, between kisses, too far gone himself to argue. Besides, Jon was somehow twice as stubborn when he was drunk.

“ ‘M only kissing you,” Jon went on, nicely proving Martin’s point, “b’cause you’re gorgeous. ‘S got nothing to do with me.”

The compliment settled nicely in Martin’s chest. He found he liked the sound of it. He gave Jon a sound, solid kiss on the side of his nose and said, “Go on, then.”

“Mmph,” said Jon, whose lips were busy with other things at the moment. Martin let his eyes fall closed, tugging Jon closer.

When they next came up for air, Jon said, “Like you, y’know.”

Martin knew what he meant. “I like you, too, Jon.”

“Mm. I like you very much. Very, very, very, very . . .” Jon’s voice faded out, as though he’d lost his train of thought, and after a moment of deep contemplation he seemed to find it again: “Very much.”

“Same here,” said Martin. “B’lieve me.”

“Mhm. Martin,” said Jon, sighing around his name like it was a statement of fact all on its own.

“You’re pretty gorgeous, too, y’know,” Martin said at length.

Jon squinted at him. “Am I?” He seemed genuinely curious about the answer.

“Yeah, ‘course you are.”

To Martin’s hazy surprise, Jon smiled. “Oh,” he said warmly, “thank you.”

And then he surprised Martin again, when he kissed him with far more focus and intention than a drunk person ought to possess.