Mark & Jon

The street was dark and silent when the cab pulled up outside the house. Mark paid the driver and quietly exited, glancing up at the dark windows; all the curtains were drawn and no lights were glowing behind the material. He spared a moment to hope that Jon was in bed and asleep as he should be; he was already tense and annoyed and really couldn’t face having to deal with a rebellious Cen at this time of night. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the issue of the unanswered phone calls.

Mark shouldered his garment bag and walked briskly up the driveway, the cold but fresh air refreshing his travel-worn head slightly. He fitted the key in the lock, relieved that he was finally home and could sleep in their own bed, curled up with Jon. Although the other man was a restless sleeper, somehow Mark got a better night’s sleep when they were together than he ever did alone in one of the five-star hotels he stayed in on his business trips.

The key refused to turn and for a moment Mark stared at the lock in tired stupidity, before reaching out to try the handle. It moved easily under his hand; the door was already unlocked. Mark frowned, his heart beginning to beat a little faster – no matter how forgetful Jon could sometimes be, he had never left the door unlocked before. He was always very careful about security, verging on the paranoid in fact, and had told Mark about a traumatic burglary he had experienced a few years ago.

Mark pushed the door open warily and glanced in; he couldn’t see much in the dim light reflected from the streetlight behind him, but everything seemed normal in the hallway. He stepped in, shutting the door behind him and dumping his bag on the parquet flooring before moving forward to switch on the light. He immediately noticed Jon’s coat thrown randomly on the floor underneath the coat rack. His partner’s hiking boots were lying carelessly beside it.; one boot lay on its side, and Mark could see the clumps of mud still attached.

A sudden rush of annoyance tightened his lips; here was the evidence he had not been looking for that Jon had obviously broken his grounding while Mark had been away. Mark trusted his Cen; the younger man had been genuinely apologetic and accepting of his grounding, and had been as cheerful as possible in the circumstances when speaking to Mark on his first few nights away. The niggling doubt had only set in the previous day when Mark had been unable to get hold of his partner; the home phone had just rung constantly while Jon’s mobile had gone straight into voice mail. He’d found it worrying – apart from anything else, Jon had enjoyed their phone calls as a break in the boredom of no television and computer, and had openly admitted as much to Mark. They’d shared a laugh about it, and Mark hadn’t objected to Jon extending their nightly phone calls as he also missed his lover.

Mark had told himself not to worry even as he’d cancelled his last meeting and re-arranged his train tickets, visions of Jon lying ill in bed or having had an accident filling his mind. And now it looked as if his Cen had been out enjoying himself while Mark had been panicking about him.

He stood for a moment looking at the coat and boots, wondering how best to deal with the situation and trying to control his anger. Finally he sighed heavily and slowly began to unbutton his own jacket. First things first, he thought, deliberately calming himself by following the normal routine of placing the jacket on a coat-hanger. As hard as it was sometimes to have to be the one who was always in control, always thinking things through and being rational, it would do no good to give in to his anger and yell at Jon, in fact it would do a great deal of harm to their relationship.

Mark removed his shoes and placed them neatly on the shoe-rack, ignoring Jon’s own discarded coat and boots. He’d get his Cen to tidy them up when they’d had their necessary discussion. He could feel himself gaining control over his annoyance now he’d had a few moments to think things through. A mug of hot coffee and a good night’s sleep and he’d be ready to tackle things in the morning, he thought wryly. Ready to listen to Jon’s no-doubt extremely complex explanations for why he’d been outside when grounded for starters. His Cen was nothing if not creative when giving excuses.

Mark made his way into the kitchen and then stopped in shock. The normally tidy area looked as if it had been ransacked. Food containers, both empty and half-full, littered the worktops; a strange mixture of noodles, congealed greasy chips, ketchup and mushy peas had spilled onto the counter and hardened into what looked like a solid mass. Breadcrumbs were everywhere, and there were brown apple cores and empty, blackened banana skins. Half-drunk bottles of milk and coke stood in among the mess. The sink was piled high with dishes, and there were dirty plates and mugs on what looked like every available space. Cupboards were opened and the contents had obviously been looked through in a hurry; a bag of flour had been knocked over and there was a trail of the white powder all over the sticky floor.

The certainty that Jon was safe at home suddenly turned into fear; as soon as the thought formed, Mark turned and strode to the stairs, taking them two at a time and almost running into the bedroom. He snapped the light on and sagged with relief against the door at the sight of the body sprawled untidily across the bed. As usual the covers had come untucked and he moved closer to pull the duvet straight; Jon’s feet were uncovered while his head was swaddled in the material.

It was only when he got near enough that Mark could see the hair peeking out from the top of the duvet cocoon was a smooth shining gold instead of blond spikes.

The next few moments passed in a blur of sudden activity as Mark ripped the duvet away and roughly grabbed the stranger by his shoulder. The other man woke with a yell as he found himself violently rolled over, too startled to do anything more than flail uncoordinatedly and try to work out what was happening.

“What the hell have you done with Jon?” hissed Mark, glaring at the naked stranger in his bed. “Answer me!” he threatened, punctuating his demand with a shake to the intruder’s shoulder. “You’d better not have hurt him.”

“Ow! Mark, get off me!” replied the stranger. Jon’s voice coming from a stranger’s face threw Mark for a moment, long enough for the other man to squirm out from under his hold and warily back up, kneeling on the bed in a slightly less vulnerable position than his previous spread-eagled nakedness.

“What?” asked Mark, his hand falling limply to his side as he stared at the other’s features. There was no way this could be Jon – not only was this guy’s hair so bright, it was also several inches longer than his partner’s, and strangely smooth for having been slept on – normally Jon’s hair stuck up and out at all angles after lying down. The features were different, too: the cheekbones more sculpted, a more aquiline nose and almost unnaturally coloured eyes; Mark would even go so far to say they were emerald instead of the usual muddy green. Granted, the more he looked the more he could see a resemblance to Jon, this man was no doubt a relation of some sort. But there was no way he could be his partner.

Just then the other man pushed a hand through his hair in a familiar nervous Jon-gesture, tucking a strand of that different hair behind his ear. His strangely pointed ear.

The oddity of the situation suddenly struck Mark and he sank down onto the bed in shock. Not only was his partner missing and there was a stranger in his place, but the stranger didn’t even appear to be human.

“Mark?” questioned the other quietly, relaxing back onto his haunches now there seemed to be no more immediate danger of attack. “Are you okay, Mark? It’s … it’s me, Jon.”

“What?” repeated Mark, for once lost for words. He stared at the other man – elf? for a moment, then shook his head firmly. “No… no, you can’t be.”

“It is! Look, I can prove it. Ask me anything you want. What your favourite food is, what your sister’s dog’s name is, what type of underwear you like. Go on, ask me something.” And the other’s eyes, even though a brighter green, looked into his with such a familiar expression that Mark found himself giving in to the pleading.

“Um… what food am I allergic to, then?” he asked.

“That’s easy – pineapple. See, it is me, Mark. I know I – erm – I look rather different, but there’s a really simple explanation for it. Don’t be mad, Mark, please.”

And somehow, whether it was that all-too familiar sentence, the recognisable body language and expression, or just the gut feeling of one lover knowing another, Mark knew with bone-deep certainty that whatever he looked like this was indeed his partner. He could also see the fear and tension in Jon; he looked as scared as he had ever seen him, poised to run, and it was this that pushed Mark into overcoming his own shock. Jon needed him, needed him to be in control of this screwed up situation, and no matter what he wasn’t going to let Jon down.

“I’m not angry, Jon,” he said, smiling at his partner reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I believe you, sweetheart, I know you don’t lie to me. Now, calm down and tell me your ‘really simple explanation’,” As he spoke he moved up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard, right next to the other man who still looked at him somewhat warily and held himself stiffly away from Mark.

“Relax, Jon, I’m not going to hurt you,” Mark reassured, holding out an arm in invitation. Jon bit his lip indecisively for a moment before obviously deciding to trust Mark, leaning in to the hold with a sigh of relief.

Mark relaxed too; feeling the familiar warm weight against him, he could finally believe that everything was normal. Okay, so his partner… looked a little different. He was still the same person, the same Jon he loved. He took a few moments to enjoy the comfort of holding his partner after a long few days away before reluctantly pulling away so he could see Jon’s face and breaking the peaceful silence – he still had to get to the bottom of all of this.

“So what exactly has been happening while I was gone?” Mark finally asked gently but firmly. “I was worried when you didn’t answer the phone.”

Jon didn’t reply but stiffened, ducking his head down until his eyes were completely hidden from view.

“Look at me, please,” Mark said, not willing to let Jon get away with the standard avoidance tactic.

Jon raised his eyes reluctantly, almost squirming in discomfort, obviously now it had come to the crunch not wanting to have to make the explanation he had promised so freely before.

“Come on, Jon, talk to me,” encouraged Mark. “For a start, I’d like to know why you didn’t answer the phone, and why your coat and boots have obviously been used when you’re grounded. And that’s not to mention your current new look.”

“Do I have to?” asked Jon quietly. “Can’t you just forget you saw this, and we can start again tomorrow? Everything will be back to normal tomorrow.” He could see the answer in Mark’s eyes and frowned crossly. “I don’t know why you had to come back a day early! It’s mucked up everything.”

“Hey,” said Mark sternly. “I came back early because I was worried about you, young man. And if I were you I’d be less concerned about my actions and more about yours. Now, I want to tell me without any more fuss exactly what you’re trying to hide. We don’t keep secrets from one another in this relationship.”

“But you won’t believe me! It’s going to sound really stupid,” said Jon.

“Looking at your appearance, I think you’ll find that I’ll believe just about anything at the moment,” responded Mark wryly. “Don’t worry about it sounding stupid. We can deal with whatever it is. Come on, Jon, what are you afraid of?”

“I – I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t love me anymore,” whispered Jon in a voice so low Mark hardly heard him. His face was full of pain and he looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Sweetheart, you know that will never happen,” Mark said, holding Jon’s gaze with his own brown eyes and trying to convey all his conviction to his partner. He pulled him close for a quick, crushing hug, kissing him briefly but fiercely. “Now, tell me what’s wrong and we can sort it out.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to sort this out. The thing is… I’m not exactly from this world. You see, I’m an Elf.” Jon threw out the last sentence in a challenging tone, as if waiting for Mark to react with astonishment and disbelief. If so, he was doomed to disappointment when Mark merely raised a brow to encourage him to go on.

“Well, technically I am, at least. I mean, I was born an Elf, but I’ve lived here for ever. My parents – Elf parents – gave me to Mum and Dad to raise when I was a baby. Don’t ask, I don’t know why, it’s some sort of weird Elvish custom. I suppose you could call me a changeling. This –” he gestured towards his changed appearance, “This is how I look when I go back there.”

“Back there?” queried Mark.

“Back to Home, or Elvenland or whatever stupid fucking name they want to call it,” Jon said bitterly.

“Watch your language, please,” said Mark, not wanting to interrupt his Cen’s story but convinced that it would only help Jon to bring as much normality to this unusual situation as possible. Sure enough, the other man subsided without protest, calming under Mark’s natural authority.

“Well, anyway,” Jon continued, “I got summoned back a couple of days ago. And I know I was grounded, but trust me, when an Elvish messenger with a whacking great sword summons you you don’t say no.”

“What did he want?” asked Mark.

“They – my parents – had apparently decided it was time for me to go back to live with them. Apparently I was mature enough now not to be a bother!” exclaimed Jon in disgust. “Well, I soon put that to rights,” continued Jon before Mark had time to worry about losing his lover. “I said I wouldn’t go to live with them if they paid me. Erm… I’m afraid I lost my temper,” he confessed somewhat sheepishly.

“But that was a good thing!” he said hastily. “They decided I wasn’t mature enough after all and I should live back here until I improved. And then they sent me back. And I’m sorry about the mess in the kitchen,” said Jon, obviously determined to make a clean breast of it all, “But time moves differently there, and I was starving when I came back. I meant to clean it up, but like I said, you’re back a day early.”

Mark was speechless for a moment after the rapid-fire explanation. His mind was full of questions about Elves, but one concern was uppermost and he had to ask about it. “So should we expect them to summon you again any time soon?”

“Nah, it’ll be at least ten years. My parents love to see me – every decade, regular as clockwork,” he added with a strange mixture of bitterness and humour. “And I’m sure I can act ‘immature’ enough then to get sent back again.”

“Well, I suppose this is one time when I should be glad of you losing your temper,” said Mark, for once in his life a bit uncertain as to how to tackle the current situation. He thought of another question. “So will you look like this from now on?”

“No, thankfully. I don’t fancy wearing a cap my whole life. No, I’ll be back to normal by tomorrow – the magic just takes some time to work. The change has to be gradual or it would really hurt when your bones and skin cells altered.”

“I’m glad,” said Mark with relief. “Not that you don’t look spectacular like this, but I miss my Jon.”

“Yeah, this is a bit much, isn’t it? I don’t look normal. That’s Elves all over – magnificent as hell, and cold as ice. Sorry,” he added for the swear word at Mark’s Look.

“So, what do you think?” asked Jon a bit nervously. The worst was over, he’d got his explanation out and Mark hadn’t immediately laughed or started calling for the men in white coats.

Mark was silent for a moment, gathering himself together. “I think… I think that I love you, Jon Preston. And I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I’m really glad you chose to stay here.” He pulled the other man tight to him for another fierce hug. “I missed you over the last few days, I don’t know what I’d do without you if you left for good,” he said.

Jon gaped at him, obviously taken aback. “Then you’re not mad? I’m not in trouble?” he said unbelievingly.

“I’m not mad,” Mark confirmed. “I won’t say you’re not in trouble, though. You obviously couldn’t help breaking your grounding, or not answering the phone, and I’ll even let you off the tip in the kitchen due to the circumstances. You will be cleaning that mess up tomorrow, though,” he added sternly.

Jon nodded solemnly, feeling that he’d got off lightly but somehow sensing that there was more to come.

“I am disappointed, though, that you didn’t tell me anything of this before. Haven’t we already had this discussion about keeping secrets from each other? Secrets are no way to make a relationship work.”

“But I couldn’t tell you! You wouldn’t have believed me!” burst out Jon.

“Haven’t I believed you now?” answered Mark.

“But you’ve got the evidence now, with these stupid ears for one thing. You wouldn’t have believed me before. You’d have thought I was mad!”

“Jon, I wish you’d finally realise that I can always tell when you’re telling the truth or not. I know you, sweetheart. I’d know if you were lying or not.”

“Huh,” said Jon grumpily, sensing that he was in deep trouble. If there was one thing Mark hated more than anything it was lying and keeping secrets. “I couldn’t really tell you out of the blue, oh by the way I’m an Elf.”

“I’m sure you could have fitted it into one of those long conversations we’ve had about family,” said Mark, unwilling to compromise on this issue. “But the fact of the matter is, you don’t get to make the decision on what you think is important to tell me or not. What if you hadn’t managed to come back in time, and I’d come home to find you vanished? I wouldn’t have had a clue what might have happened to you.”

Jon looked away, unwilling to admit that Mark was right and therefore tacitly admit to deserving punishment. In his heart, though, he knew it had been plain embarrassment and not fear of Mark not believing him that had been the main reason for not talking about this before.

“What did I say I’d do if you lied to me again?” asked Mark.

“No, that’s not fair!” protested Jon. “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you something.”

“I think hiding such a big secret about your background counts as lying, Jon.” said Mark quietly but relentlessly. Jon could tell that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this punishment.

“But I don’t want to be spanked. I’ve just been through a traumatic experience, it’s not fair,” Jon said rapidly but without much hope. He sighed, accepting his fate when Mark merely raised that eyebrow again, holding out his hand in invitation.

Jon settled himself stiffly over Mark’s lap; he was already naked so there were no preliminaries to deal with first. Mark rubbed his tense back lightly in comfort for a moment before raising his hand and bringing it down sharply on the raised bottom. The whiter than usual skin pinkened immediately and Jon let out a hiss at the first shock of contact. Not wanting to delay this and upset his partner more, Mark lost no time in spanking thoroughly all over Jon’s backside, until the whole area was red and hot and Jon himself was squirming uncontrollably. Three last solid smacks right in the centre signalled the end of the spanking and Mark lowered his hand with relief, glad that the punishment was finally over.

Mark gently helped Jon raise himself from the awkward position and spent the next few minutes comforting him, holding him close and soothingly stroking his back with hands that shook slightly at the remnants of the fear of losing his partner.

“Ssshh, Jon, it’s all over now,” he spoke softly, kissing the hair that seemed to already be changing slightly in colour to Jon’s normal shade. They clung together tightly; normally they were close after a spanking, but somehow this time seemed different and Mark could tell Jon was feeling the insecurity as much as he was. Well, there was nothing else he could do but act as normal and hopefully in time they would both relax once more. One thing was for sure, Mark had no intention of letting anybody or anything, from this world or in any other, ever part them.