Chapter Text
Martin is in the grocery store, doing shopping for the week. For as much as he fears his growing appetite will increase the bills, it isn't making too much of a dent. He is trying to pace himself before the holiday, and to an extent he's managed.
Okay, there were the pancakes. And the batch of sugar cookies. And the one night they went out on a proper date at a casual Chinese place and Martin simply had to try several different appetizers and help Jon, light eater that he is, finish off his shrimp fried rice. But he isn't going overboard. That's just...normal, occasional gluttony.
He hasn't even had breakfast today, which he chalks up to a hefty few slices of lasagna from the night before. (Frozen lasagna. Jon hasn't tried mastering baked pasta dishes yet.) He's just not hungry. And you're not supposed to go food shopping hungry, right? Keeps you frugal or something. Martin's heard that somewhere.
Still, it's two weeks before Christmas, and he's being taunted by delicious display cakes, biscuits, sweets and treats as far as the eye can see. Within the range of a small, local grocery store, that is. And there are no sweets in his trolley cart, no cakes, not even a candy bar. He's being good. It's easier than he thought it'd be.
A bit too easy, perhaps. He's glad Jon gave him a list, because otherwise he'd have no idea what to buy. He's not in the mood for anything. Nothing much appeals.
Again, too much dinner from the night before. And dessert, too. Of course there was dessert. There always is nowadays.
It's when he actually walks past the bakery that the excuse falls apart.
Because he can smell the baking bread, the sugar and cinnamon going into the confections, the vanilla. And it's all wrong. It's too strong and vivid and-and-alive.
He abandons his shopping cart to rush to the men's room. In the stall he heaves, but nothing comes up. It's just aversion, a deep aversion to the very idea of eating a slice of cake or a mouthful of bread.
And he knows what this means.
He leaves the supermarket, too shaken to finish shopping, too enervated to do anything but rush home and scream.
It was over. It was over! He was done with all this!
At home he just sits in the bedroom, shaking all over, too angry to move. Angry at what, The Extinction? Himself? The new whatever manifesting inside of him? Maybe the What Comes After really wished for a sibling. Hah. There's nowhere to direct it, so it just stews.
He's glad he left the grocery store so quickly. He remembers how rapidly he'd changed the first time. If he hadn't noticed, would he have just increased the mercury in all the canned tuna to toxic levels? Sensed how much processing and packaging had gone into the hotdogs? Tried to sneak a sip of drain cleaner?
Dammit, drain cleaner sounds really good right now, too. Shit.
He's probably not as far along as he was last time. Maybe. But last time didn't take a full nine months, did it? That thing grew at its own rate, not a human one. And he has no idea if this one will develop faster or slower. He presses at his stomach, but gives up on that quickly. As if he could tell if anything's going on underneath all that padding. Last time he'd been avoiding food, and lately he has certainly not been doing that.
Shit. Christmas. This is going to literally, actually ruin Christmas.
He's not going to freak out in front of Jon, who's left the house for the moment. He's just going to explain things. Lay out a game plan. Martin's not really a safe person to be around when he's 'carrying' because the presence of the thing inside of him magnifies all the Extinction-ness further. So Jon's going to have to be the one to run errands. But their food bills will be a lot smaller, right? Hah. That's Martin, seeing the silver fucking lining everywhere.
And Jon didn't sign up for this.
Martin hears the front door open. He steels himself to deliver the bad news, only to see Jon standing there holding a large bag of takeaway.
"Martin! Thought I'd surprise..."
Jon looks at Martin, and knows immediately. Knows, probably. The Eye loves giving him bad news. He sets the food down on the table unceremoniously and wraps his arms around Martin, clinging to him tightly.
And Martin just breaks down and cries. Because The Eye doesn't tell Jon anything that isn't true, either.
They're sitting at the table now, the food untouched. Martin's actually a little hungry, but he doesn't want to think about what he's hungry for, so he's ignoring it. This thing can tell him what it craves directly if it's so fucking demanding already.
"I just-I thought it was over with. One and done," Martin says, his voice still catching. He did a lot of crying and it's worn him out.
"The Powers are rarely ever 'done' with us. Not until they let us die. It seems the Extinction has chosen the role its first Avatar will play. I'm...I'm sorry."
"You didn't do this. Don't apologize." Martin sniffles. "You're the one who's going to have to put up with all this. I was miserable last time. And-and big."
"Well, this time you won't be. Miserable, I mean," Jon amends quickly. "I can't control, um, you know what I mean. You won't be under Peter Lukas's isolating thumb. I'm here with you. I'm here."
"...Yeah. Yeah," Martin smiles, and if he kind of has to force the smile, it's worth it for Jon. "What a weird fucking role to play, though. Like, why this?"
Jon's tone is somber, his eyes distant. "Echidna."
"E-Echidna?" The first thing that brings to mind is Knuckles the Echidna from the Sonic games. That can't be right. Did he have monster babies?
"A half-woman, half-snake being, mate of the monstrous Typhon. The mother of monsters." Jon sighs, giving Martin's hand a squeeze. "Well, you've got the monstrous mate part at least."
'Mother.' That kind of makes it worse, somehow. "Oh. So my job here is to be an incubator for whatever kinds of anti-life my body produces for The Extinction. For how long? How often is this going to happen? It's-it's not even been a year!"
"I don't know. I just know what's inside you now. They're very new, and they're going to hurt you if you don't eat something soon."
Martin scowls, turning away. "Eating rubbish is so-it's so bleak. They can be patient and wait until I'm-wait. They?"
"Two of them, entwined already."
Okay. Two of them. Twins. Shit. Shit shit shit shit.
"I-sorry, Jon." Martin stands up so quickly he knocks the chair over. "I think I just-I need to be alone a little while."
Jon just nods, and only then does Martin notice that Jon's hands are trembling. "Yes. Of course. Take as much time as you need."
#
Martin takes a walk around the cottage, even though it's already dark out and rather bitterly cold. He's fine with it. He likes the cold. Well, he doesn't, but he's in the mood to feel bad.
And he's just going to feel really bad out here, on his own, so he doesn't pollute Jon with it. Pollute. That seems appropriate.
He reminds himself that he survived the last one, and that was under terrible circumstances. He's at home now, their home, and he's with someone he loves. That's already a huge improvement. The Beholder could not take Jon away from him and The Extinction cannot take Martin away from Jon. They have this life. They need it.
It has to be strong enough to withstand Martin's body turning on him again and again. It has to be strong enough to deal with what being a 'mother of monsters' will transform him into. It has to be...
His eyes fall on a pink plastic flower sprouting from the ground. The artificial flowers still bloom even in December. They'll look outright tacky once the snow starts falling. Maybe at some point he should pick them and use them as a centerpiece, just to see if more will grow.
He's still thinking about that before he realizes he's already plucked one and popped it right in his mouth. It is deliciously fake. It wasn't actually made in a factory, but it tastes just as good as if it was. He munches on an entire bouquet's worth before his hunger pang is eased, and he immediately feels Better. Not better emotionally, just Better. In a place where he could at least not be a nightmare around Jon again.
When he steps back inside, he sees Jon at the table, crouched over something and facing away from him. Jon's breathing is heavy and his shoulders are hunched. Shit, is Jon crying? Martin immediately rushes to his side. "Jon, are you-...?"
There's a big stack of empty Thai takeaway containers next to Jon. He's eating the last one, coconut rice, with a pained expression and a sharp conviction, as if trying to defeat an enemy. It is very clearly close to defeating him instead.
"Jon?" Martin squints, leaning forward. "Um. What're you doing?"
"M-Mar...urp. Martin." Jon's concentration broken, he looks up like he didn't even hear Martin tromp in. "I, erm. I knew you'd need the containers. To eat. And you'd feel bad if we threw the food out, so I...ugh." He bends over, clutching his stomach.
"So you didn't put them in tupperware or something?" Martin's trying not to hide a smile. Jon's clearly acting out of a moment of distress but also, it's kind of sweet, in a 'why is my boyfriend like this' way.
"Was going to wash them out for you," Jon gasps. "Just-just give me a moment."
"Are you kidding? I'll wash them. Though I might end up eating the soap bottle since it's almost empty anyway." He bends down to lift Jon in his arms, cradling him. "We're getting you to bed."
"I can..." Jon groans again and covers his mouth when he burps. "You should...yes, we probably should."
Martin brings Jon into the bedroom and lays him on his back, giving his swollen stomach a gentle rub. Martin's never seen Jon eat all that much. He's so thin and gangly. With his stomach packed full as it is, round and bulging out of his shirt, it makes it look like Jon's the pregnant one. The poor guy is still breathing heavily, though the belly rub seems to help.
"Thank you," Jon mumbles. "I've got to say, I don't think I'm quite-quite suited for this side of things, I'm afraid."
"Mm. A shame, that. You're really cute with a belly." Martin leans over to kiss Jon, then sits beside him on the bed, sinking in so that Jon slides slightly closer. "Please tell me you didn't do that just to cheer me up, Jon."
"M-much as I would like to take credit for that, I-*hic* really did just think that was the best course of action. I'm told by others I have impulsive tendencies?"
Martin strokes Jon's cheek. "Just a bit. Impulsive and a little too ready to throw yourself into trouble for others. I love you." His smile weakens. "I'm...I'm sorry that...I mean, you probably didn't expect a life with the Mother of Extinction Monsters. Father. Whatever."
"I wanted a life with you. I had a feeling The Extinction wasn't done with you, one way or another, but to say so just felt like inviting trouble." Jon squirms, resting his hands on his belly. "If I suddenly became more arcane, more terrifying, a true Archivist, what would you do?"
There's no hesitation. "Stay by your side. Be yours and love you, because you're you."
"Precisely. And you're still Martin. Just, uh, pregnant? Sometimes?"
"And with terrible timing. I really was looking forward to Christmas," Martin sighs. "Now the idea of cake just kind of makes my stomach turn. I'd want the container instead."
Jon sits up, immediately seems to regret it with a wince and a hiccup and lays back down. "Now-now who said anything about Christmas being cancelled?"
"What, you going to make me a feast of plastic and non-biodegradable materials?"
"I don't see why not. It's for my benefit too, remember?"
That brings a little blush to Martin's cheeks. "You're incredibly sweet." He isn't sure he actually believes Jon is going to manage this, but the idea enough helps. "I am going to be really bloody big with twins, you know."
"Yes. I've thought about that already." Jon seems a little flustered, too.
"Anyway, you get to feeling better and digesting. I'll get you some of that antacid and give you extra cuddles tonight, after I've eaten those takeout containers. Can't let this all go to waste," Martin says, with a teasing little poke of Jon's belly.
"Thank you. I love you, Martin." Jon's eyes close slowly, as if he's already slipping into a food coma. No wonder Jon likes Martin all overstuffed and silly. It is cute. Just, maybe Martin's more built to tolerate it.
And the takeout containers do taste delicious, light and fluffy as styrofoam is meant to be.