Chapter Text
You couldn’t predict when he would visit you. It was an open invitation, your home available as a respite from his other life, the one he never spoke about, insulating you from it’s danger. At first there was never any warning, just two quick knocks at your door late at night. Most people knocked three times, a habit learned socially and never questioned. It was a safety precaution, he thought, a quick way to identify himself, one of many idiosyncrasies another person wouldn’t ever consider. Without question, you opened the door for Jon every time.
Your phone alerted with a new text from an unknown number. ‘7:28 pm. Spicy red miso ramen.’ This was how he felt comfortable telling you when he planned to stop by. A specific request for dinner, and a time a never failed to arrive by. The message came from a different number every time, and you were never to respond.
It started as nothing more than a place for him to rest safely. He trusted you implicitly, after you broke down the thin silver foil that was Scandelabra. You saw through the mask of it all, the way he dressed and acted to demand attention from others, to feel important. Scandelabra’s polish was a reflective shield, protecting him from any focus on himself, always shifting the focus back to the other Objects in your house through rumors and hearsay. You had suspicions that there was something else under the surface of his polish, but it took the help of Maggie before you could crack it and peel it away. When he saw that you weren’t disappointed by the man hidden underneath it all, he chose to let you in, little by little.
Placing the order for delivery, your heart fluttered in your chest in anticipation. It had been weeks since you last saw Jon, leaving an indent of worry on you mind. With the time you had before he would arrive, you tidied your home, placing an extra towel in the bathroom so he wouldn’t have to search for one in the morning. He always appreciated your thoughtfulness, but to you, it was just second nature.
He would come to you when he needed a sense of normalcy, a quiet conversation and a warm presence to relax with. You were a pitcher of rejuvenation, and you let him drink from you, taking anything he needed. Sometimes it was a quick nap and shower before he left again, barely speaking to you. Others, he would be on you as soon as the door opened, seeking salvation through your touch, your desire, and your cries of pleasure. Whatever this was between you, neither of you particularly cared to put a label on it. Any discussion would sour the arrangement. Instead, you gave him a key, a sign of your own trust in him.
Your phone alerted you again at 7:25 pm, with a photo of your food dropped off at your front door. Retrieving it, you set the bag down on your coffee table while you grabbed a change of clothes for him, a plain t-shirt and sweatpants. In the off chance he could stay longer than a few hours, you grabbed a bottle of white wine and two glasses. While pulling dinner out of the plastic bag, you heard a familiar knock-knock and the sound of your front door being unlocked.
Finally able to confirm his safety with your own eyes, you sighed in relief.
“Hey.” A nonchalant smile masked his own relief. “You don’t have to do all this, y’know.” Your curtains were already closed, but he took a quick peak outside, a habit of safety, before taking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie.
“I know. It’s just been awhile, I figured I’d spoil you.” You thought about hugging him briefly, but you knew yourself too well. A hug would turn to touching, petting, needing. Shaking your head at yourself, you poured yourself a glass of wine to ease your nerves. You had never felt this attached to him before, and you had to stop yourself before it became a bigger problem. Jon was here now, and that was enough. “Can you stay long?”
Halfway undressed, he looked up at you.
“Until morning. Maybe a day or two.” Eyeing his bare torso, you saw a few fresh lacerations. Nothing serious. You said nothing, making a mental note to grab your first aid kit before you went to bed. Pouring a glass of wine for Jon, you took a sip of your own. He didn’t like you looking at his scars too long, knowing you’d start asking questions he didn’t want to answer. “How has work been?”
After you realized all the Objects in your home, you were offered a position within Valdivian as the Vice President of Human Experience, consulting on the production of Dateviators due to your unique experience as their very first user. You were hesitant to accept, still wanting to make a clean break from the company that held you hostage inside your own home for months, but when you thought of other people getting to meet their otherwise imperceptible housemates, along with all the other ways your could improve the company itself, you came around to the idea.
“It’s been better recently. We’re on the final round of testing before we go live with marketing.” Jon smiled faintly as he sat next to you. Leaning into you, he stole a quick kiss. It was tradition at this point, starting from before he was Realized, a small act meant to tell you that his attention was only yours.
Dinner went by quickly, but you couldn’t shake this buzzing feeling in your chest, the need to ask him about what kept him away for long. You knew his job was hurting people, exacting justice for those who couldn’t pursue it themselves, but things seemed different this time. He was more tense, like an animal ready to attack. As you laid in his arms, some mindless show playing on TV, he must have sensed your discomfort.
“Got something on your mind?” You chewed the inside of your lip a moment, wondering how to respond.
“How long do you think this job will take?” It was an unassuming question, one you had asked before, but you wanted to hear how he would respond before pressing further.
“This one’s...a little different than the others. I can’t put my finger on it, just a gut feeling. Can’t risk seeing you if I think someone could find out about you.” He knew you were wondering why so much time had passed since he last visited. “Shouldn’t be more than another week, Sweetness.”
“Can you...tell me more about the job?” You expected him to shut you down, feeling him shift behind you.
“It’s, well...I’m doing a favor, for the man who taught me what I know.” Sitting up a bit, he turned you to look at him. His brows were knitted together in apprehension. It wasn’t just your safety he considered when keeping his life from you. Jon feared you would see him differently if you knew the amount of blood on his hands. Surely someone as warm and kind as you would be abhorred by someone like him. Still, he knew secrets never stayed secret for long. “You sure you want to know this?”
“Of course!” You didn’t mean to sound so eager, but he had never been willing to share with you before. Always guarded. He sighed, conflict still evident on his face. “O-only what you’re comfortable sharing.” Apprehension melted into a smile.
“He was actually one of my first targets, involved in an underground smuggling ring. I was...sloppy. Let my emotions get in the way.” Jon found a particular freedom in finally opening up to you. “He saw potential in me. So he trained me, in exchange for taking out some of his competition. He cut me loose once I learned everything I could, never asked for anything else from me. Until now.” He ran a hand down his long, weary face.
You remembered the way he moved when you first Realized him. He was agile, lithe, and more than anything, confident. You felt heat bloom low in your stomach at the memory. As much as you loved that side of him, you knew it was just another shield. The vulnerable side you were seeing now was his truest self. Jon watched your face, looking for any sign that he had shared too much. All he saw was contentment, and a soft flush that made you look like you were glowing in the dim light. Seeing you like this made him want to consider a future with you, to make you his home rather than just his retreat.
“Until now…?” Your voice was barely a whisper, wanting him to keep sharing with you but afraid to break the spell that was dragging your heart deeper and deeper into feelings you knew couldn’t be reciprocated.
“Now…” His voice was low to match yours. “Now an heirloom silver tea set was stolen from his adult daughter. It’s got sentimental value, on top of being encrusted with gems. One of a kind. He just wants me on standby in case his men get in a situation they can’t handle on their own.” That was mostly the truth, anyway. You didn’t need to know that the threat of his involvement at all should have been enough for anyone with two brain cells to rub together to return the tea set. That’s what was bothering him about this. It just didn’t add up.
“And you’re the best there is.” Jon was shocked by your words. He’d heard them before from others, and in the context of his work he knew it was an undeniable truth. Hearing it from you, though? It held a different meaning, like you weren’t just talking about his work. Was it the time spent apart that made his feelings so intense, unable to ignore them like he always had?
“Y’know...you haven’t told me about the others. Have you seen any of them recently?” Another little routine between the two of you. Jon couldn’t help himself, he needed to know if there was any good drama while he was gone. You both knew where this conversation ended – Jon would ask about who had been in your bed recently. He wasn’t kidding when he said he got off on hearing you talk about your escapades.
“I saw Miranda at a show last week. Her band is really taking off, it’s so great to see.” This is how you would start, something subtle, innocuous, but true. “Daisuke invited me to his most recent live modeling event. You know...the nude ones.” You felt Jon’s hands tighten around you, a devious smile spreading across your face.
“Did he put on a good show for you?” The way Jon licked his lips made another wave of heat wash through you. Quickly changing positions, you straddled him, bracing your hands on his chest while you leaned over him.
“I got a little backstage show. Running my tongue up his abs—” Rough hands grip you, forcing your hips to grind down against him. You can’t help the moan that escapes you lips at the contact, the promise of something growing between the two of you. The noise caught him off-guard, his face flushing red. “You’re kinda cute when you blush like that, Jon.”
“Keep talking.” His voice was low, a demand you couldn’t deny. You felt him already growing hard under you, the sweatpants hiding nothing. Rolling your hips, you ground against him again.
“Take me upstairs and I’ll tell you even more.” In a swirl of limbs, Jon had you over his shoulder, and before you knew it your back hit the bed. Rough hands worked on removing your pants while you tore your shirt off over your head. Your returned the favor, pushing and pulling until Jon was nude and back underneath you, his pale hair spread out like a halo to frame his face.
“Daisuke is too modest to get caught in public. It was too bad.” You slowly wrapped your hand around his length, teasing, tempting.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been fucked in a month.” There was the slightest hint of concern in his voice, a worry you weren’t used to in this context.
“Tony helped me fix a broken chair, I left him fuck me as payment.” A practiced hand circled right where you needed it most, matching the rhythm you set as you pumped him. It had been so long, and you were so ready, but you needed to see Jon begging you first. Though you hated to lose the sensation, grabbed his hand and roughly placed it at his side.
You didn’t miss the flash of desperate need in his hooded eyes. The pace of your hand sped up.
“God, you’re so fucking easy.” His hips thrust up into your hand slightly, a brief loss of control. You pulled your hand away for just a moment, earning a faint whine. Shifting lower, you leaned down until your mouth was inches from his throbbing length.
“I was just planning on blowing him, but when he started pleading to bury himself in me—” You ran your tongue up him, flicking at the tip. “—fuck me, it was hot.”
You could tell he was starting to unravel, his eyes pools of darkness with how dilated his pupils were. Taking him into your mouth, you worked him quickly with your tongue. His hips stuttered, making you place a firm hand against him to hold him down.
“Where-where did you take him?” His voice was growing breathless. You bobbed your head down a few more times, feeling the pressure of him hitting the back of your throat, before pulling away from him again. The whimper it elicited left you so impossibly turned on.
“He bent me over the kitchen table and pounded into me until I was screaming.” You felt yourself clenching at the memory. Needing some kind of contact, touch, friction, you shifted until your center rested on his cock. He shuddered under you, his fists balled up in your sheets as he struggled to stay in control, to be good for you. The halo of pale hair had grown damp with sweat, the black tuft that used to be a candle wick stuck to his forehead.
As you started to grind against him, his eyes rolled back and he let out the most delicious moan you had ever pulled from lips. You couldn’t stand it anymore. It was a quick stretch reaching for the bottle of lube, then you were quickly working yourself open. You didn't need perfection, you just needed him, inside you, now. Lifting yourself up just enough to grip him, you held the tip of his cock at your entrance, hovering just a moment before dropping down and taking him to the hilt.
“MmmFUCK!” His hands were on your ass, helping you slam down on him as his hips snapped up into you. You were already a mess of needy moans and screams of pleasure. He buried his hands in your hair, pulling your neck close enough to devour with kisses and nips.
“None of them can fuck me like you do, like their very life depends on it.” You were already nearing the precipice of your own climax. Placing a hand low on his throat, you let your fingers curl around him, controlling without any pressure. You arch your back, your hips grinding against him, creating friction right where you need it. Jon’s pace starts to stutter as his breathing grows more ragged, a sign that he’s getting close himself.
“Sweetness—fuck—you already said I’m the best there is.” The octave of his voice was slightly higher, reminding you of the way Scandelabra would whine and beg when he was underneath you. You tightened your hand around his throat as your own pleasure tightened around you.
“Come when I come, Jon.” A whispered command that sent a shiver down his spine. He gasped and nodded, his mind scrambling to find a shred of control over his actions. The tightness turned into a burning ache, then it hit you. You felt yourself unraveling around him, unable to stop the flood of pleasure. You chanted his name like a prayer as you came. The grip you had on his throat released when he slammed into you, his hot spend coating your insides. Your mouth was on his, capturing the fleeting moans and whimpers.
Collapsing next to him, you pulled Jon into a tight hug. He was panting hard, you could feel his racing heart through the arm across his chest. Sitting up, you kissed his forehead, his nose, his chin, every surface within your reach. He was the flood of refreshing water that quenched your thirst, and you couldn’t get enough.
“I love you so much. I missed you so much, I don’t know how I ever lived without you.” He lived for the way you rambled after your release, your emotions so raw and open in a way he didn’t know how to be. Though he adored the version of you that always took control, that directed and demanded him for your own pleasure, this was his favorite view of you. You were most beautiful when you were relaxed and free. Something he wasn’t sure he could ever be again, not when he wasn’t around you. He would live vicariously through you, feeling whatever you felt. It would have to be enough.
“I can’t believe I stayed away for so long. You have no idea what you do to me, Sweetness.” Jon pulled you close against his chest. You sighed into him, your exhaustion weighing you down. A wondering hand brushed against one of the lacerations you noticed earlier, and you felt him tense ever so slightly. With a final kiss on his shoulder, you sprung from your bed to retrieve your first aid kit, hearing Jon’s protesting voice while you disappeared down the stairs.
“You know you don’t have to take care of me like this…” He sighed as you returned, the familiar red and white case in your hands. You ignored him, kneeling beside him on the bed while you pulled out alcohol wipes and antibiotic ointment.
“Someone has to take care of you, if you refuse to do it yourself.” You had bantered like this before, but he heard something different in your voice this time. A quiet joy in being the one to patch him up. Through the sting of the wipes and numbing of the ointment, he relented to a feeling he had been ignoring since he made the decision to visit you, far before he ever messaged you. “Lean forward a bit so I can see your back.”
He did as he was told, bracing for your admonishments when you saw the length of the jagged cut on his back, your questioning of how he received such an injury if he was only on ‘stand by’ like he told you. Jon would tell you if you asked, he would be honest about the broken glass he landed in, taking a leap of faith out of a window while the bullets from his gun seared through the air towards their target. He had done a good enough job of cleaning himself up in a dingy highway rest stop, he didn’t want you to see the shards of glass lodged under his skin.
“You’ll have to teach me how to do sutures. This one’s pretty deep.” The joy of hearing your concern conflicted sharply with the idea of ever letting you see him that damaged.
“If I show up here in a state that requires you to stitch me back together, I would hope you just kick my ass to the curb.” He felt the adhesive of medical tape on his skin, the way it tugged when he moved.
“Never! I would hope you would come to me if you needed help…” The pleading in your voice broke him, just a little bit. He sighed.
“...Fine. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have my own personal medic.” A slight smile pulled at his cheeks. It would give him an excuse to come by more often while still fooling himself into believing he was staying aloof. It wasn’t like he was contemplating retiring earlier that day, finding something boring and safe to do so he could come home to you every night. “Let me go see your handiwork.”
Stretching himself out of bed, he slipped on the discarded sweatpants and walked into the bathroom. You watched him, watched the way he contorted himself to see the bandages you had placed. You watched him shamelessly, his slim figure twisting at the waist, lean muscles flexing in his arms. His sweatpants sat low on his hips, the shadow of his hipbones giving you ideas. You’d have to bandage him up again, and he wasn’t likely to sit that still for you a second time.
“It’s good work. Were the band-aids really necessary?” The contrast of Hello Kitty band-aids on his scar-littered chest was a good look. At least, you thought so. You stifled a laugh, enjoying your own sense of humor.
“I’m afraid so.” You plopped the first aid kit off to the side of you bed and crawled under the sheets, knowing it would be awhile before he joined you again.
The bathroom light turned off, one door creaked closed, and one creaked open. Yet another routine of Jon’s, whenever he stayed the night with you, was taking a final walk through every room in your house. He couldn’t relax until he’d done so. Starting in the room that used to be your gym, now converted into a spare room in case any of the former-Objects dropped by to visit, he wasn’t looking for anything in particular. It wasn’t his home, and he didn’t wanted to snoop, he only wanted to become familiar. He has been familiar with the first floor, or at least the back half of it, but it all looked different after he was Realized. He couldn’t tell at a glance if something was out of place, wasn’t able to sense just by walking in the room if something was off.
Moving into the hallway, he quickly checked the storage closet held nothing but boxes and a large tool box. Even though he knew Tony was no longer personified within, he gave the tool box a taunting look. The attic was next, the space that had become your new workout room. It was faintly illuminated from the streetlights outside, and the HVAC droned with a consistent hum. Jon really didn’t care for this room, knowing there had once been a ghost up here. Perhaps feeling uncomfortable in a room was familiar enough for his taste.
Downstairs, he reached blindly into the bag he left by the front door, grabbing the gun he stored at the bottom. He checked behind the curtains one more time, noticing you still hadn’t put up a curtain on your front door. You argued that it was the only way you could see who was at your door, but even a sheer curtain would provide privacy without hindering your ability to see. He made his way through each room observing, listening. Stilling when he reached the dining room, Jon looked down at his former self – a knockoff candelabra from New Jersey, that found it’s way inside your home from a thrift store.
You had told him to story months ago. Having just inherited the house from an aunt who couldn’t stand anyone else in your family but you, you were finding ways to fill up the oversized home with objects you felt made you look interesting and cultured. Seeing as you had a piano in your entertainment room, once you saw the candelabra at the thrift store, you knew just had to take it home with you. Something about it reminded Jon of being picked up at a bar by a person so unbelievably out of his league. Still, knowing you picked him, you wanted him, brought a comfortable warmth to his chest.
The rest of his tour went quickly, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The gun stayed in his hand, holding it pointed towards the ground while he silently ascended the stairs. You were asleep already, your breathing shallow and steady. Placing the gun under his pillow, he slipped into bed, careful not to wake you. When he was certain you were still asleep, he rolled over, wrapping his limbs around you.
Your breath stuttered, and he stilled.
“Mmmmhi Jon.”
You weren’t awake, but your subconscious still perceived him. He hesitated a few long minutes before pulling you against him. This was what he was missing, the closeness, the vulnerability. With no prying eyes, not even yours, he could let his guard down completely. His limbs wrapped around you a little tighter. You had no idea how much he needed you, how much he relied on just knowing you would always be there for him.
Sleep came quickly for Jon, a relief he hadn’t felt since the last time he visited you.
- - V - -
“And that, folks, is why you must always Remember the Human.” The words you chose to close the meeting with sounded corny, but it was the mission statement you had proposed months back, and you were proud that it had been selected the by board of trustees. In your mind, that was the factor that was missing under the previous CEO, and you didn’t want that mistake to be made again. Virtual applause filled you ears as the meeting leader took over, moving on to the next speaker. You muted the mic and turned off your camera, taking a small break.
“Not bad, Sweetness. They’re lucky you decided to stick around.” His presence in your doorway caught you off guard, but you smiled at seeing him.
“Hi, Jon!” Seeing him in your house still brought a ray of light into your day. “I shouldn’t be much longer, I’m taking a quick break before they wrap up.” You stood to greet him, taking his face in your hands to kiss him softly.
“I’ve got dinner covered, just wanted to see you.” This was the longest he had stayed in months, and you were savoring every moment. If only you didn’t have to go back to work…
“Can you still teach me how to sew sutures tonight?!” He laughed at your enthusiasm, and you loved the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled with the emotion.
“Let’s do that before dinner. You’ll...see why.” Though you were curious, you kissed him again before returning to your meeting. Not that you were even paying attention, but you had to be visible, a presence for others in the company to look up to. It was never your cup of tea, but for the sake of your position, you would suffer through it.
Finally free, you stretched the stillness from your muscles, heading upstairs to change into leisure clothes. Reaching blindly into your dresser, you grabbed a black tee and joggers. A little loose, but it was growing colder at night and this would help keep you warm.
Out in the kitchen, you slaw a cutting board sitting on your kitchen table, surrounded by sewing needles and various types of thread. Jon was still standing next to your stove, his attention focused on something else he was cooking. When he turned to look at you, he looked surprised.
“Are those...my clothes?” Looking down at yourself, you realized you must have reached into the wrong drawer. You had bullied Jon into leaving clothes at your house, giving him his own drawer, then a second. Sometimes your brain still defaulted to the original setup.
“...Do you mind?” Looking back up at him, you didn’t miss the dangerous smile on his face.
“Not at all. They look good on you.” You blushed, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Grab whatever thread you want, and start threading a rounded needle. I’ll be there in just a minute.” You did as he instructed, picking a bright blue thread and easing it through the eye of a needle until you had just over a foot of slack.
You had learned how to hand sew as a child, a skill you remembered other’s insisting would be priceless. Though you had never repaired your clothing with the skills, you would be eternally grateful if the skill ever helped you keep Jon pieced together. Placing a lid on whatever he was cooking, he grabbed something from the refrigerator—a piece of meat, presumably what would be getting prepared for dinner—and set it on the cutting board in front of you.
“The most important thing is keeping the wound shut.” He grabbed a knife you hadn’t noticed and cut a deep slice down the middle of the meat, then pushed a pair of nitrile gloves towards you. “Imagine this cut were bleeding. It’s a wound on my thigh. What would you do to keep it shut?”
Donning the gloves, you hold the threaded needle in your hand for a moment. The stitches would have to catch both edges of the wound, sealing the injury while allowing for it to move and flex like skin would. You started by stitching inside the wound, pulling the two sections together to quell the imaginary blood, then two shorter stitched on the surface to hold it in place. The pattern repeated until you were nearly out of thread, only stitching about half of the injury. Securing the stitching, you looked up at him for approval.
“Not bad. Makes me wonder what other skills you’ve been hiding away.” Something about the way those words dripped off his tongue brought a blush to your face. Putting on his own pair of gloves, he quickly removed your stitching and took the meat over to the counter where he had been working previously. “Let me get this in the oven. You mind cleaning that up?” He gestured towards the table were you still sat.
“Where did you even find this? I don’t remember having a sewing kit…” Seeing the round blue tin, you worked on packing the threads and needles back up.
“It was in your laundry room, above the sink.” A space you hadn’t done much with in the three years you had lived in this home. It was far too large for one person, and you had thought about downsizing shortly after the Dateviator adventure, but the response from a few former residents of your home made you change your mind. Much like for Jon, your home was a safety net, a place they could always return if they needed.
“Must have been my aunt’s.” You returned the round tin to its home, standing on the tips of your toes in order to reach. On another day you would have to grab a step stool and see what other treasures had been left up there.
Standing in the doorway, you watched Jon work, noticing the precision in his hands, the focus on his face. Even with the intensity of his focus, you could see the ease in his body language, the way his shoulders were relaxed, his movements unhurried. Listening carefully, you could here him humming a faint tune, nothing you recognized but sweet nonetheless.
Even if it didn’t last, you were happy to have this version of him all to yourself.