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Jon's never been terribly comfortable with loose threads, and ever since he learned Martin's fanfiction history included self-insert stories featuring him (well, an exaggerated, incredibly violent, theatrical, steampunk pirate version of him), he's been rather... distracted. Since they are in town already, Jon decides a little detour to the library is in order.
Fanfiction is a genre that Jon was vaguely aware existed. He'd even beta read some of Georgie's Star Wars fics back in uni, but really, he didn't see much point in it. If people wanted to write stories, why not create their own characters and worlds? If you wanted to muse to yourself a bit about what Holmes and Watson got up to between cases, there's no harm in it, but do you really need to share it with the world? However, this recent revelation has made it imperative that he learn more about this topic rather immediately. While fanfiction may not be in Jon's wheelhouse, research most certainly is.
He had never really considered that The Mechanisms might have inspired fanfiction. While they had a loyal (and quite wonderful) fandom of Stowaways, and he had seen some absolutely gorgeous fan art and hilarious Tumblr posts over the years, the idea that many people would have spun their own tales seemed rather farfetched. After a bit of internet sleuthing on the library computer, he found the most likely website to start with. Searching by fandom, he was shocked to see that there were nearly 4,000 works dating back to the early days of the band and that new works were still being submitted. It took quite a bit of willpower not to delve into reading immediately, but the researcher in him pulled back. Sorting by date to focus in on earlier works, Jon began scanning through usernames to see if anything jumped out. It wasn't terribly long before he focused in on a couple of works by user "Tea_For_One" with the avatar of a cow in a fuzzy jumper. This seemed like a likely candidate.
Looking more closely at the user profile, Jon quickly determined he had found what he was looking for. These were indeed Mechanisms self-insert fanfics centered around Jonny d'Ville. He also noted a number of Twilight Zone/Star Trek TNG crossover pieces - including one Jon marks for later, "Nightmare at Warp 4" in which Wesley Crusher insists he sees a creature pulling apart the hull of the Enterprise while the rest of the crew tells him to shut up. Did Jon escape to Scotland with a secret Trekkie?? Georgie was never going to let him live this down...
With a deep breath and a thrill of anticipation, Jon clicks on the first Mechanisms work, Once Upon a Time in a Bar in Space...
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Marcus Redgrove wasn’t much to look at, really. Tall and broad with a mop of messy dirty-blond curls, he was big enough to avoid most fights, but his eyes and mannerisms gave him away as being a bit soft. He wasn’t really the sort to hang around in bars, but he had been between jobs for a while now, and while he didn’t really have the funds for drinks, he needed to escape the loneliness of his bunk for a bit.
There weren’t many people in the dive bar yet, but it was pretty early. Marcus tucked himself away in the corner on his favorite bar stool. Then he noticed activity on the small stage in the corner. He sighed in resignation. Live music night. Not really his vibe. Still, he probably had some time to grab a drink before the set started. He ordered a beer that tasted mostly like water and let his mind wander. Glancing back to the stage, he was surprised by the number of instruments being set up – usually it was one guitar, maybe a fiddle from time to time. This group had keys, percussion, some woodwind instruments, guitar, bass, and… is that a banjo? Does anyone even know how to work a banjo anymore? Curiosity piqued, Marcus decides that he might stick around after all.
The bar has become more crowded, but Marcus still maintains his little bubble of space in the corner. He is nursing his second beer when he finds he has an unfamiliar flutter in his stomach. It takes a moment to recognize the feeling – he realizes it is anticipation. It has been so long since he actually looked forward to anything. Finally, the band moves onstage and Marcus’ eyes widen. The stage is filled with the most gorgeous collection of individuals he has ever seen. A slight figure dressed as a soldier with a pencil-thin moustache and unnatural, jerky movements stands at the glockenspiel. A breathtaking person in a fitted suit and fire-red hair holds a bass as though they were born with it. An ethereal waif with wings and flowing hair all but floats behind the keyboard. An Elven Trickster hides in the back, eyes filled with knowledge and mischief, with a rack of wind instruments at the ready. A man who looks to be almost entirely made of metal is poised by the drums and banjo. Another stands in the back with an air of nobility and a precisely poised violin. Another enraptured woman with dark hair and an air of secrets holds a viola to her chin. A wiry, dangerous looking character with long hair, a beard, and blackened eyes stands clutching a guitar looking like he is as likely to beat someone to a pulp with it as play the instrument. And finally, the lead singer. He swaggers to the microphone full of a level of confidence Marcus has never come close to achieving. And he is beautiful.
Marcus is transfixed, entirely unable to tear his eyes away from the angular man covered in belts and eyeliner. His hand movements are delicate, sharp, and precise, and his eyes burn brightly beneath the goggles perched on his forehead. A single golden hoop glints from his right earlobe and Marcus wonders what it might feel like to hold the small metal circle between his teeth as he nipped at that earlobe… pleasant thoughts are interrupted as the subject of Marcus’ fantasy begins to speak.
Killers and vagabonds, liars and thieves, we are the Mechanisms.
Good lord. That voice. If Marcus could spend the rest of eternity hearing nothing but the sound of that voice, he would be the luckiest man in the universe
A band of immortal space pirates roving through the universe on the starship Aurora, having fun when possible, violence when necessary, and if we’re very lucky, both at the same time. Allow me a brief moment of self-indulgence to introduce to you the crew of our mighty starship, Aurora. Our pilot, Drumbot Brian. Gunpowder Tim, our master-at-arms. Ashes O’Reilly, quartermaster from the mobster planet Malone. Baron Marius von Raum, our ship’s doctor, neither a baron nor a doctor, Ivy Alexandria, our archivist, Nastya Rasputina, ship’s Engineer, and Raphaella la Cognizi, our science officer, as cruel and brutal as she is science. And the Toy Soldier, of course, who is, as usual, present. And last, but the opposite of least, myself, Jonny d’Ville, your humble captain.
(there is a rousing response of FIRST MATE from Gunpowder Tim, as well as some scattered members of the audience)
Jonny launches into the tale of the end of King Cole’s War – a heartbreaking story of violence, love, loss, and violence. Marcus had studied the war a bit in school, but it had been over since well before his parents had been born, so it never felt as immediate as it did as The Mechanisms recounted the tale. Then, suddenly, they were part of it. Marcus started – sure they called themselves “immortal space pirates,” but the immortal part couldn’t be real, could it? But then, how is it possible Jonny could have taken part in events several decades ago when he barely looked any older than Marcus himself? Marcus registered these thoughts, but soon found himself drawn back into The Story.
That's what we’ll do with a drunk space-pirate! That's what we’ll do with a drunk space-pirate! That's what we’ll do with a drunk space-pirate!
Distant stars awaiting
Thank you!
And just like that, it’s over. Marcus sighs and turns back to his neglected, mediocre beer. He’ll just finish up and be off then. Early day tomorrow, looking for work so he can send some credits home to his mum. Suddenly he feels a hand gently and precisely laid upon his shoulder. He startles at the touch, gentle though it is. No one has purposely touched him in… well, in a very, very long time.
“So sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you, there. Though, I admit, I do often have that effect on people. Startling them, I mean. Usually there are weapons involved though…”
Though he’d never heard it before that day, Marcus would have recognized that voice anywhere. Speechless, he turned his gaze upon Jonny slowly, as though he might burn his retinas just by looking directly at him. Honestly, he wasn’t far off.
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Good lord, Martin’s taste really had always been this terrible, hadn’t it? Jon did admit he looked rather dashing in the full d’Ville kit back in the day, and while smoking is a terrible, terrible habit, he really did exude a kind of cool in those days that he’d never recapture. Even so, hot enough to burn eyes out of their sockets was just a bit much! He glanced at the time. Probably better hurry, Martin should be done with the shopping soon, wouldn’t want him getting suspicious, after all.
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“You seemed to enjoy the show. Care to have a drink?”
Marcus wills himself to speak – to say anything – make some noise of agreement – but he can’t. He tears his eyes away and looks at the hand, now gently resting on his forearm. He takes in the fingerless gloves and nail polish and is, once again, transfixed.
“Or, perhaps, I can interest you in a different sort of entertainment?”
He turns and moves to a secluded hallway, and Marcus follows as though compelled. He would follow this man to the end of time itself. Following him into a hallway is nothing at all. Jonny steps into a hidden alcove and presses Marcus into the wall, tracing his fingers along his broad shoulders and reaching up to card his fingers through the messy curls. Marcus is fairly certain he must have died at that bar, or at least fallen asleep. It certainly feels real, though. Then, suddenly, he is being kissed, and he nearly blacks out.
He had thought quite a bit about what kissing Jonny would be like as he watched him narrate, sing, and joke his way through the set earlier. He had anticipated hunger and teeth – an edge of desperation and violence, even in affection. But the reality was so, so different. He was so gentle, as though Marcus were made of spun glass rather than flesh and bone. As though he were something easily broken and worthy of care. His lips caressed and gently prodded and teased, but they were not insistent – almost questioning.
Oh. Oh.
Finally, Marcus was able to answer, not with words, but with kisses of his own. His were not so restrained as, despite the differences in size, there was absolutely nothing breakable in Jonny d’Ville. He did not need to take care, so he answered with the hunger of hundreds upon hundreds of lonely, sleepless nights. He moved away from the wall, pressing Jonny to the opposite corner, reaching down and lifting the smaller man off his feet. Jonny answered with an appreciative groan and wrapped his legs above Marcus’ hips. Time, space, and the entire universe fell away until there was nothing in all of existence except the two of them, and the place where their mouths met again and again.
And then, they are interrupted. An annoyed voice with a thick Russian accent pulls them abruptly back to reality.
“Jonny! Please, stop toying with this mortal and get back to the ship. Aurora says she is ready to go, and you know how impolite it is to keep a lady waiting. Particularly one as beautiful as she.”
“Yes, yes, fine. I’ll be right there, Nastya. Just give me a moment.”
With a toss of perfect hair, Nastya leaves them alone.
“I’m afraid I must be off. Pity to be leaving so soon, it has been centuries since I have seen eyes as pure as yours. But, duty calls, and a ship needs her captain!”
“First mate” Marcus says with a small smile.
“Oh, not you, too? You kiss me like that and yet you betray me? I am wounded! And, let me tell you, I don’t wound easily. Thank you for being such a welcome diversion in this backwater world. It was… and unexpected pleasure meeting you. I doubt very much that our paths will cross again, but I do hope, in this instance, to be wrong.”
With that, Jonny buries his face once more into Marcus’ chest as though to take in the shape and smell of him one last time, and turns to follow his crew to find the next adventure.
Marcus wanders as if in a haze back to his bunk and robotically goes through the motion of preparing for bed. Though he expected to lie awake, he instead falls into the deepest sleep he has had since leaving home. Then he wakes in the morning.
He cannot be with Jonny, mortal as he is. He needs to find Dr. Carmilla.
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Well. That certainly was. Something. Jon mentally takes back every snide comment he has ever made, both internally and aloud, about the value of fanfiction. He takes several deep breaths and feels his cheeks gradually return to their normal temperature.
It takes every bit of willpower he owns not to immediately open the next work, but he knows he is running out of time, and he cannot let Martin know what he has found. At least, not yet. But how will he make it until the next shopping day without accidentally slipping and calling him “Marcus”?