5 Works by webmenu
Listing Works
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"In Spotless, Robert breaks into Walsh’s office with Fran to steal his marriage certificate back, but Walsh comes back from lunch early so Fran and Robert pretend like they'd snuck in just to make out, and they get away with it."
Martin tilts his head to the side. Jon's eyes follow his lips as he speaks and it is awful, just awful, the way that Martin leans in closer without even thinking about it. Something hot and heavy builds up in Martin's gut. It feels like trouble.
"What does that mean?"
Jon frowns like it’s obvious. “I’m Robert and you’re Fran.”
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The bedsheet around him smells like Juno, which is a sorry reminder that at the moment his presence is nothing more than a past tense. And Juno smells like whiskey and sweet sweat and the type of laundromat detergent they offer in low income areas, the type that's more acid than soap.
Juno Steel left.
He catches his own reflection in the mirror.
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"What is this," Martin looks up and asks, flatly.
Sasha doesn't look all that phased or upset, but she trips over her words a bit like she is. "It's a — well, a pen-pal... thing! I ripped it off of the wall at the pub." Sasha rips everything off of the wall at the pub.
"And you want me to sign up for it." Martin squints, skeptically, and then adds as an afterthought, "there is no way you got this off of the wall at Harp & Crest."
Tim and Sasha think that Martin ought to do something about this whole loneliness business.
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His lashes are thick with cheap drugstore mascara, and the product is smudged under his eye where he's made a few mistakes. Martin hasn't shaved in awhile, and Tim finds that the tiny bit of scruff looks good on him, frames his face in a nice way. He's got earrings in both ears, gold little symbols of anarchy. Tim takes a moment to count the freckles on his forehead. There are 18 of them, and they go all the way up into his hairline.
"Are you going to kiss me or not?"
"That's my favorite Thompson Square song," Tim tells Martin before pulling him in closer, licking his way into his mouth with enthusiasm.
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“You know what, Jon?" Martin says boldly, rolling up the sleeves on his jumper, “I bet that I can make you a cup of coffee that you won’t hate. I’ll make you a cup so good that you’ll want to stop drinking tea.”
And the way Jon says “you’re on," the curious look on his face that Martin can't quite parse -- well, it makes Martin go warm all over.
“Okay," he snaps out of his gaze and he walks while he talks, "let’s get back to work. Tim, here are two cases for you, file them away for me if you would? Sasha, keep up the good work. And Martin,” Jon pauses.
“Yes, Jon?”
“Looking forward to tomorrow’s coffee."
Martin insists that coffee isn't all that bad and, respectfully, Jon disagrees.