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beholdme · 3 years

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All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 10

Chapters: 10/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

"When was the last time we saw Gerry?" Jon asks in a panic. Martin looks up from the other side of the dinner table. The pair of them are at their typical Thursday night date, in Jon’s favourite Italian restaurant.

They had previously been studying their menus, but Martin had felt Jon’s tension from the moment they met outside the library. It wasn't exactly surprising, considering the recent developments in their relationship, but he was still acutely aware of it.

“You saw him yesterday morning before work, and I saw him today when he came into the bookstore to drink tea and read an entire book without buying it.” Martin reminds him. He’s already told Jon about seeing Gerry today, and he was there when they had all said goodbye the previous morning.

Martin is fairly sure that Jon’s issue is more with the fact that Gerry was pale and tear-soaked as Martin had kissed him goodbye, and that Gerry had clung to Jon like an oversized barnacle as they rocked together for a final moment before they both left him alone to his thoughts. Martin knew he had slept and painted, or at least, that was what Gerry had told him in the quiet moments Martin had taken to spend with him in between the aisles of books that morning.

“You should go over and see him if you’re concerned. We could go to the bar after we eat, and then you can go stay the night with him.” Martin tells him gently, nudging his foot under the table.

"Maybe it would be better for Gerry if you go alone," Jon replies quietly, staring at his menu and refusing to make any kind of eye contact.

Martin closes and sets aside his own menu, leaning forward on the table to focus his full attention on the idiot love of his life.

"Why? Because he and I sleep together and you think that makes our intimacy more important? Or because you perceive it's your fault that his heart is broken and because of that you think you don't deserve to feel any comfort you might get from seeing him?" Jon goes shock still at Martin's words, eyes simply downcast now, instead of pretending to read the menu they both have memorized. "Or was it both at the same time?"

"Yellow," Jon says unhappily.

Only Jonothan Sims could safeword out of a conversation. Martin thinks tartly. I bet he learnt that from Gerry.

Martin sighs and leans back, out of Jon's atmosphere. "I won't push a conversation you don't want to have, love, but you have to know that neither of those things is true."

"No?" Jon snaps, finally jerking his head up to look at Martin. "Not even you can deny that I demanded that confession. I don't know what I expected him to say-" Jon cuts off, words choked off. "But not… Not that. Not those awful, horrifying things. All that trauma dragged out and put on display like some kind of, of-" Jon stutters to a halt, pressing his eyes tightly closed as if to escape the thought that anyone had ever laid hands on their bright, beautiful boy.

"Like some kind of bloody museum exhibit? You couldn't have guessed. And you have a right to closure as much as anyone." Martin says emphatically. He reaches out to clasp their hands together, and Jon thankfully allows the contact. "No one could ever look at Gerry and guess that those skeletons live in his closet. That he hides those scars behind his sweet smiles and paint-stained hands."

"I was there, Martin. I was with him the night before he ran away. He already knew, had already decided to go, and I didn't notice." Jon bites out the final words, bringing his hand down on the table in frustration. It's the ultimate recrimination in his own mind.

"You can't know what you've never been told Jon, you aren't omniscient. You can't know what Gerry and I are thinking and feeling unless we tell you. Just like Gerry and I can't know what you're feeling when you avoid telling us things." Martin sighs, the exhaustion of several days of tears and worry dragging down on him. "We can pick up on it sometimes though, and we aren't scared teenagers anymore. Gerry will know you're avoiding him if you send me to check on him tonight and it will hurt him. If you're committed to him, and I know you are, then you owe him your bravery now. We all have to overcome our insecurities if we want to make this work."

Jon and Martin sit looking at each other for a few heavy seconds.

"I don't feel brave," Jon whispers across the space between them.

"I know, my love. Neither do I. But we are." Martin lifts Jon's hand to press a kiss to Jon's palm, just as Gerry had on their initial date in the bar. "We can be brave together, the three of us."

Gerry is not at work. They share a look of sinking fear when they don't find him working his shift at the bar.

He is at home when they let themselves into his loft, much to their relief. His posture and the general disarray fills Jon, especially, with fresh anxiety.

He leans against his art table, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the most jarring painting Jon and Martin have ever seen him create. If the angry swirls of color and violent-looking paint slashes even constitute a painting.

Gerry is wearing the same going-out clothes he had been wearing when Martin had seen him earlier, rather than his typical comfortable home clothes. He is covered in paint, and his makeup is smeared across his eyes from repeated rubbing.

Martin nudges Jon in Gerry's direction and moves off towards the kitchen.

"I do not want tea, Martin." Gerry's quiet voice manages to fill the space, hollow and empty, much like his facial expression.

"Good," He responds, hardly missing a beat. "I was going to look for the whiskey."

"Stop looking like a kicked puppy Jon, you didn't do anything wrong," Gerry says to him, offering his cigarette. Jon eyes the doorway that Martin just disappeared through, but ultimately goes over and takes it. They lean together, shoulder to shoulder, smoking and each trying to draw warmth from the other.

"Do you know what I thought about for years after you left?" Jon eventually whispers softly.

"What?"

"That last night we were together. Do you remember?"

Gerry laughs breathlessly at the question, pressing his eyes shut and curling slightly in on himself. "Yes Jon, I remember. How could I ever forget."

"That was the last time I had sex." Gerry finally looks over at him, no shock, no visible reaction at all really, but his attention focuses on him. Jon focuses his own attention on the painting, which is easier to look at than Gerry's face right now, despite its discordant energy. "I could never let go of that feeling I had after; like we were one soul separated by our ridiculous bodies. Like our intimacy, however desperate and hormonal, brought us closer together than anything else we could ever do together in this life."

Jon releases the confession into the room around them, finally releasing himself from the weight of it.

"And then I was gone," Gerry whispers back, voice small.

"And then you were gone. I was never very interested in sex as it was, and then even when I was in relationships after that, I never wanted to risk lying in someone's arms and finding a hole where that feeling should have been. Or maybe even worse, finding it there again, as if what we had wasn't as special as I had thought, and that was why you had just been able to walk away so easily."

"It wasn't. It was the worst thing I ever did."

"I know that now," Jon says, taking a long, grounding drag of his cigarette, "But that was the fear that sat in my chest and kept that wound bleeding, right up until the day that I watched you walk out of my library stacks, like some kind of literary saviour, reborn from my desire and ink and old parchment paper."

Gerry pushes off from the table they are perching on. "I understand if you don't want this anymore. I wouldn't want to be with me, either, if I were you."

"Gerry-" Jon tries to cut him off, but he plows on ahead, apparently deciding to just get the words out from where they've been suffocating him.

"You can keep Martin, obviously, you knew him first. You two were happy together before I plowed into your lives like a fucking freight train."

Martin himself, listening in the other room, doesn't particularly appreciate Gerry attempting to hand him off like a negotiating chip, but keeps his opinions to himself for the time being, in the hopes that Jon will handle the situation.

Jon watches Gerry for a moment as he starts moving things around, shoulders tense and movements aggressive. He rolls his next words very carefully around his mouth before he allows himself to speak.

"You did plow into our lives like a freight train." Gerry releases a sound of distress at the repeated words, and Jon slowly walks up to him and takes his shaking hands, turning Gerry towards him and hoping to finally encourage eye contact between them. "But we don't think that's a bad thing. We love you, Gerry Delano. I love you. I loved you when you were Gerard Keay, and I love you now and I loved you in a tiny box in my heart for all the years we were apart. I would be an idiot if I let this hurt between us keep us apart for any longer than it already has, and the last thing I could ever want is to watch you walk out of my life again."

Tears slip down Gerry's messy cheeks and Jon reaches up to brush them gently away.

"Please," Jon begs him, voice hoarse. "Please stay with me, please keep us here in your loft and teach me to paint my nails and be brave. Let Martin braid your hair and keep going into his store to read his books without buying them."

For a moment they simply stand, tears pouring from Gerry's tightly shut eyes while Jon clings to him and tries desperately to occupy the same space in the universe as Gerry does.

Gerry's eyes open slowly, teal irises only enhanced by the brightness of his tears.

"Yes," he tells Jon.

"Yes? You'll stay with us?"

"Yes. Always." Gerry pulls Jon further into his embrace and they cling together, crying quietly.

"Thank God," Martin mutters in the next room, running his hands up his face and through his hair in relief. Shaking it out and releasing the tension that had wound itself up in his gut, he gets up and starts moving about with purpose.

"Is Martin cooking?" Gerry asks incredulously as the scent of frying bacon reaches them through their tearful haze.

"Oh," Jon says, glancing up at the kitchen doorway. "I guess so. We never ate any dinner."

"Why not?" Gerry asks, sniffling.

Jon sighs, full of gratitude and long-suffering. "Because Martin wouldn't stop emotionally stripping me naked in public."

Gerry laughs wetly, imagination running wild.

"Also," he says, full of exhausted affection. "Because we love you."

"Oh." Gerry curls around Jon even more. "I'm glad."

Martin feeds them, and sends Gerry to shower, and puts on a movie for Jon to start. He doesn't touch any of the art things, but he tidies a little as he hovers around, waiting for him to emerge from the bathroom.

When he does, Gerry looks much, much better. The smudged makeup and paint are washed away, and his hair is wet. It all combines to make Gerry look very young, and Martin is reminded that he is actually the youngest of them, despite always seeming so settled into his life.

Martin takes his hand and tugs him towards the lounge section of the big main space.

"Martin, I-" Gerry starts.

"Not now, love. You and I will sort things out later when you've slept and had time to process everything else." Martin's tone doesn't invite any argument, and Gerry's teeth snap together as he closes his mouth.

The movie plays, but Gerry sleeps through it and so does Jon, mostly.

As the credits roll, Martin giggles to find himself somewhat drowning in sleeping men, despite the quiet heaviness still hanging in the air. Jon wakes at the motion, since Martin is almost directly beneath him, and yawns and stretches.

"How are we going to get our lumberjack to bed?" Jon asks, eyeing Gerry's long form with some trepidation.

"I could carry him, probably," Martin says, with no real confidence.

"Please don't," Gerry mutters into the side of Martin's neck, where his face is buried.

"Ah, problem solved," Jon says, leaning over Martin to kiss Gerry.

Martin hopes they wake each enough to walk to bed, lacking the desire to carry anyone anywhere at this time of night. Especially up the stairs to Gerry's loft, where the bed lives.

They make it up to the bedroom eventually, and collapse together, sleeping soundly through the night.

Gerry doesn't always like lying in the middle when all three of them are in bed together, being the warmest and the longest of the three of them, but the next morning that's where he finds himself.

The window lets in the cool, gentle light of pre-dawn, and Gerry shifts around, trying to orientate himself.

Jon is lying right on his edge, on his stomach, absolutely dead to the world, a halo of wavy black and silver hair surrounding him chaotically.

Martin is lying on his back, one arm threaded through Gerry's, the other thrown over his head. He breathes deeply, but shifts periodically, as if unsettled. Gerry turns towards Martin, bare chest pressing against his shoulder and feels dread settle into his stomach as he watches his partner sleep fitfully.

Gerry knows he won't be going back to sleep, but doesn't even consider getting up and moving away from the men in his bed.

Martin stirs at his movement, moving his arm to curl around his waist and draw him in close. Gerry buries his face in Martin's shoulder, arm thrown across his waist.

"What’s the time, Ger?" He mutters.

"Early still. Almost six." He whispers in return, peering over Martin to check the bedside clock.

He groans. "You alright?"

Gerry hums back, pressing a kiss to Martin's chest since it's so conveniently close by.

They lie together for a while, cuddled up close, sharing body heat and gentle comfort, until eventually, Martin surfaces properly, mostly to use the bathroom.

He comes back with a glass of water, which Gerry shares with him before they settle back as they were before.

Martin runs his fingers through Gerry's hair and Gerry traces patterns along Martin's chest through his shirt.

"I'm sorry," Gerry whispers into the cool semi-darkness.

"For having a breakdown?" Martin's tone is carefully even, although he continues to hold Gerry close.

"No, not that."

"You mean the part where you assured Jon he could keep me as if I were an unwanted child in a divorce. A feeling I'm plenty familiar with, actually." The carefully natural tone continues, and Gerry presses his fingers into Martin's side, hurt sliding through him at his own stupidity. His heart breaks to imagine how the careless words had made Martin feel.

"That's not what I meant." His voice is small and he hates the useless words, but he can't push any others out.

"Don't worry about it. I'll admit, I do normally prefer to be involved in the plans for my own future, but I'll let it slide this time." Martin smiles just a little, an edge of bitterness creeping in. “On the grounds of emotional distress.”

"Martin…" Gerry presses the word into his skin, curling even closer.

"I'll ask you this though. Did you really think I would just walk away with Jon after what's been between us?" Martin's voice finally, finally breaks just a little. Through the entire Mary confession, Jon's emotional struggle, their confrontations, and the oceans of tears, Martin had been completely steady, calm, logical, never falling into the erratic emotions of his partners, but this is what finally gets to him.

"I-I don't know what I thought. I guess I just couldn't fathom at that moment that you and Jon could ever want me again." Gerry slides his hand up, curling it around Martin's face and drawing it down to face him. "I'm broken, Martin, and I don't want my brokenness to break you."

Martin signs softly, turning over towards him, so they press together. Their foreheads touch and he kisses him gently, just once.

“You are not broken. What happened to you is fucked up, and anyone can understand you being messy and volatile sometimes, especially with how balanced you normally are. Maybe next time, ask us how we feel. Instead of, you know, staying up for two days, trashing your flat, and coming to my job to say goodbye to me without actually telling me anything.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Gerry asks, flushing.

“Yes, love. The complete lack of flirting, winking, and ass grabbing rather gave it away. You also paid for your drink. Very out of character.”

Gerry laughs and presses closer into him. “I have to keep you in business. Got to pay for something.”

Martin squeezes him reassuringly, rubbing their noses together.

They are quiet for a moment, and Martin frowns in consideration, before going on. “You and Jon aren't the only catalysts here. I would have fought for you if Jon wanted to pack it in and walk away. I chose you just as much as I chose Jon. Just as much as you chose me. Please remember that the next time you're tempted to treat me like a pawn in this arrangement, because I am not.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Gerry tells him, sincerity heavy in his voice.

“Then we'll say no more about it.”

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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