Chapter Text
This time, making their way through the streets of Cardiff while Tim recounted an embellished account of his and Jon's disastrous oral history attempt to Sasha, making her laugh so hard she nearly ran into a street sign, Jon couldn’t help but give Martin a shy glance.
“How did yours go?” Jon asked softly, allowing Tim and Sasha to walk ahead of them a few paces.
“Oh, it was lovely! Sasha did very well, you’ll be proud when you hear it. I think we got invited to the woman’s wedding at the end of it, I’m not quite sure.” Martin said, tone chipper.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tim turned around, “You’re probably going to get Christmas cards from her until you die or something, now. You personable twats.”
Jon smiled.
“Tim and I could certainly have used you, today.” Jon said, making eye contact with Martin and hoping he knew what he meant.
Martin’s little smile made it clear that he did.
They wound up in a small basement level bar, a touch too stylish for Jon’s taste, but which everyone else seemed to find inoffensive.
They laid claim to a small table and Tim returned mysteriously quickly with the first round of drinks. He didn’t even ask what anybody wanted he just brought everyone the bar's featured cocktail.
“This is, um, a touch strong, isn’t it? We haven’t had dinner yet…” Jon pointed out.
“Bottoms up, Jon!” Tim said, downing his cocktail with a little eye roll. Sasha laughed and began to sip at hers. As time passed crowds of other people began to fill the bar, most of whom appeared to be dolled up uni students dressed for a proper night out. The four work colleagues huddled around their table began to look somewhat haggard in comparison.
“Do you think we might be, erm, too old for this establishment?” Jon asked after a young man brushed by him with his shirt unbuttoned to his navel.
“Speak for yourself, Jon!” Tim said, now on his third beverage and somehow, despite his office shirt and khaki trousers, still fitting in better than anyone else.
“I’m 31!” Jon protested feebly. No one paid any attention.
A waitress, wearing some kind of body glitter, appeared at their table carrying a tray of fancy-ish shot glasses containing a lightly fizzing and very pink beverage.
“That man over there ordered these for you.” She said, gesturing over to a table on the other side of the room. “He told me to tell you” She pointed at Sasha and addressed her directly, “That if you’re up for ditching these nobs he’d love to chat.”
“Excuse me?” Sasha stuttered in response, but the waitress had already bounded off.
“Get it, Sash!” Tim strained to get a look at their benefactor. “He’s… well he’s not cute exactly, but he’s got money if he bought us four of these things.” Tim took the shot right away.
“He’s fucking mad, I’m dressed like a schoolmistress.” Sasha said, glancing down at her multiple cardigans. “He ought to have gone for that hen night over there!” Sasha gestured over to a group of loud, drunken, very provocatively dressed young ladies.
“That hen night’s not half as lovely as you, Sasha, schoolmistress or not.” Tim assured her.
Martin picked up his shot and handed the remaining one to Jon.
“Is this… is this about to be one of ‘those nights’?” Jon asked, expression slightly bemused.
“No, it’s fine, it’s mostly juice.” Tim assured them. Martin laughed, and he and Jon took the shot at the same time. It burned like a motherfucker, and still managed to be sickeningly sweet.
“SHIT! TIM!” Jon coughed.
“Sorry, I lied, it’s straight alcohol.” Tim said.
“Oh dear…” Martin said, with a little laugh.
“Look, I’m getting us one more round, and then we are going home, all right?” Tim said. “Just one more.”
In the back of his mind Jon knew that this was probably a bad idea, but he was having a good time, and Martin was there, and really, what was the harm? So he just shrugged and let Tim go get another round. Tipsy as he was though, an instinct did kick in.
“Sasha, are you uncomfortable? About that man? Because we can go.”
“Yeah we’ll definitely fight him.” Martin said, shouting over the loud music.
“Fight him?” Sasha laughed.
“I mean…” Jon smiled at Martin, who was swaying on his feet somewhat. “Hopefully we’ll be able to leave before it gets to the point of physical violence…”
“I don’t think it will come to that.” Sasha said with a little smile. “But thanks for the offer.”
Tim returned with three pints of lager and a glass of white wine. Sasha gave him a look.
“What?” Tim said, picking up the glass of white wine and taking a sip. “It’s for me!”
At that moment the very loud pop song which had been blasting over the speakers faded, to be replaced by what seemed at first to be very dramatic choir music. Some of the students made confused faces at the sudden shift in tone in the music, rolling their eyes.
Jon, having consumed a “sing along to background music at the bar” amount of alcohol, stood up perfectly straight, eyes widening in recogntion.
“FUCK.” He said.
“JON!” Sasha said. “I thought we weren’t allowed to swear!”
At that moment the bass dropped in the song, and some extremely 80s synth, guitar, and drums began to pound throughout the bar.
“This song.” Jon turned to Martin. “Do you know this song?”
“Um, no?” Martin laughed.
“I LOVE this song.” Jon said.
“What song is it?” Sasha asked, as a male singer’s voice began to growl to a surprisingly ominous and yet upbeat tune in the background.
Jon began to nod his head along with the music.
“HEY NOW! HEY NOW NOW!” Jon sang along.
Martin laughed in slightly tipsy delight at a drunken Jon Sims singing out loud. None of the younger clientele seemed to have any idea what the song was, but Jon looked seconds away from full on head-banging to it.
Tim’s expression could only be described as “shit-stirring.”
“You know what people usually do when they love a song this much, you know.” He said. “They dance to it.”
“Nope.” Jon shook his head, although he continued to bounce along to the song, still super into it. “Not by myself.”
“Oh, is that the issue?” Tim put his wine down, took Jon’s hand, and led him out onto the dance floor.
“TIM!” Martin gasped, but Tim was already dancing. For as bizarre and goth as the song clearly was, it was quite easy to dance to. Tim’s confident and slightly goofy dance seemed to free up Jon’s last inhibitions, and the two of them began to really let loose.
“HEY NOW, HEY NOW, NOW! SING THIS CORROSION TO ME!” Jon sang aloud with the music, and Tim joined him once he had the grasp of the refrain. A few of the younger people, picking up on the infectious enthusiasm Jon and Tim clearly had for the song, began to dance as well. Mostly they were being ironic, but there's no better song to dance to ironically than "This Corrosion" by the Sisters of Mercy. Jon and Georgie used to request it at 80s night and Goth night at their uni.
Martin locked eyes on Jon and Tim, dancing like no-one was watching. He looked like a dog left leashed outside of a restaurant, whining at the window while their owners stepped indoors.
“Oh go on.” Sasha whispered, finishing her drink and giving Martin a little nudge.
Martin, gave Sasha a thankful smile and sort of joke danced across the room until he was next to Jon. The three of them made a little odd triangle out there for a few minutes, dancing and posing dramatically to the song's fun melodrama. Jon began to dance a bit closer to Martin then perhaps was professional, but Martin just blushed and let it happen. Tim watched his boss and his office mate with close interest, still dancing but giving them a bit of space. He glanced over to their table, and was surprised to see that Sasha was not on her own anymore. The man from earlier, the man who had purchased her a drink, was now at her side. Sasha's body language did not look comfortable.
“Be back in a tick.” Tim said, although Martin and Jon seemed too engrossed in each other to listen. Tim skipped back over to the table, where a man in his forties was now standing in Sasha's personal space.
“Hullo friend!” Tim said, making eye contact with Sasha. “How’s things?”
“Hello love.” Sasha said, giving Tim a look. “I was just telling him about you. You know. Being my boyfriend and all that.”
“Got it.” Tim effortlessly wrapped his arms around Sasha’s shoulders and made a face at the encroaching gentleman. “So uh, you can shove off, then, mate.”
“Seriously? Why’d you take the drinks then?” The man asked, looking annoyed.
“Because they were free drinks. That’s just how it goes.” Tim said.
“Yeah,” Sasha said, “You can’t just buy a woman a drink she didn’t ask for and then act like she owes you shit.”
“Oh fuck off.” The man rolled his eyes and began to leave the table.
“Yeah, fuck you, too.” Sasha muttered, giving Tim’s forearm a little squeeze of thanks.
“Holy shit!” Tim exclaimed.
“Oh it can’t be that surprising that some man might try to get off with me…” Sasha said.
“No, fuck, Sasha, LOOK!” Tim turned Sasha around until she had a good view of the dance floor, where Martin and Jon were standing not just close together, but actually holding one another. As they watched, Jon leaned in and kissed Martin right on the mouth. Martin kissed back with enthusiasm.
“OH SHIT!” Sasha said.
“They’re really having at it, aren’t they?” Tim said, but as he said it Martin and Jon pulled apart and looked back at them, utterly horrified.
Sasha covered her mouth in surprise. Tim, keeping one arm wrapped around Sasha’s shoulders, shook his finger at both of them with a little scolding wag.
Martin looked up at Jon.
“What do we do?” He whispered.
Jon sighed and gave Martin one more small kiss.
“I need a cigarette.” He admitted.
~*~
After a series of probably the most anxiety inducing emails Jonathan Sims had ever sent or recieved, worse, even, then the emails accepting or rejecting him from graduate school, Jon ended up, once again, in a face to face meeting with Elias Bouchard. He’d almost never had to interact with Elias before getting this grant, now he felt like they were nearly on first name basis.
Martin wasn’t there, Elias had only invited Jon. Martin had volunteered to work in the reading room that day, but had spent all morning sending Jon encouraging texts whenever he got a free moment, the kinds of texts which included multiple heart emojis. Jon would never have described himself as the type of person who enjoyed multiple heart emoji texts. Every time he opened one, though, it did make him smile, so he was just going to have to live with that.
“So as I suppose you know we don’t have an HR department.” Elias explained shifting in his chair and crossing his arms in front of him at his desk.
“Yes, I’ve figured that out.” Jon said.
“Which, in essence, makes ME the HR department." Elias said. "So I did a bit of reading in the company policies, to find out what to do in this situation.”
Jon froze. This was the moment of truth. He was about to be sacked or relocated or taken off the grant or what have you.
“You and Martin aren’t living together, are you?” Elias asked.
“W-what?”
“I mean, you don't share a lease?”
“No.” Jon had been spending the night quite a bit at Martin’s these days, and vice versa, but it was far too early to talk about moving in with one another.
“Then you’re fine.” Elias said, with a little shrug.
“Excuse me… what?” Jon asked, confused. “I… I directly supervise Martin. This is definitely a conflict of interest. I could very easily turn this into a quid pro quo situation…”
“Have you, Jon?” Elias asked.
“Of course not!” Jon puffed up at the accusation, even though he had sort of made it himself.
“Then Jon…” Elias turned his computer monitor to show his employee a zoomed in PDF of company policies. One rule stuck out in a bright yellow highlight. It read, “Workplace relationships are permitted under Magnus Institute policy, but it is prohibited to serve as an immediate supervisor to one’s spouse.”
“See?” Elias continued. “If you lived together then our policy would technically describe Martin as your spouse, but if not?” Elias shrugged again. “You’re fine.”
“So… it’s fine for me to date Martin.” Jon said, trying to let the words bounce around his brain for a moment and sink in. "It's allowed."
“Correct. If you want to get married though, one of you will have to transfer departments. Also if you break up badly I will brutally murder you, because that sort of bad energy is exactly the last thing we need in this office.”
“I… thank you, Elias. Erm, is that… is there anything else?” Jon asked, somewhat light-headed.
“I mean no PDA at work, don’t go fucking in the stacks or anything...”
“ELIAS!”
“Look I just read our entire company policy on workplace sexual harassment, I am well within my rights, there.”
“I think I’m ready to go now.” Jon stood up. “Thank you... for your help.”
“Honestly if you two start sharing hotel rooms on these trips it’ll save us QUITE a bit of money.”
“Goodbye, Elias.” Jon gathered up his things and stepped out of the office. A massive, crushing weight on his chest was just... gone. The halls even looked different, brighter, like he had stepped into an office and walked out into an entirely new building. He actually began to walk the wrong direction down the corridor, like he had forgotten how to return to the archives. That morning he’d honestly been planning what his course of action would be if he had gotten sacked. Now… everything was going to be all right.
He went down the multiple staircases it took him to get to the archival offices, but paused at the door to their offices. Turning abruptly he hurried back up towards the reading room.
Through the back entrance, where his old office used to be, he entered the chilly, dim space of the Magnus Archives reading room. Martin was at the reference desk, glancing at his phone and then up at the researchers, and then back down at his phone. He rapped his fingers on the desk in front of him intermittently.
Jon cleared his throat.
Martin looked up, eyes wide, expression filled with fear.
“Are we sacked?!” Martin whispered, loud enough that a woman researching at the front table glanced up in annoyance.
Jon couldn’t help but smile as he shook his head.
“OH!” Martin didn’t even whisper his noise of excitement and rushed over to where Jon stood.
Jon whispered the situation in Martin’s ear and they gave one another a quick hug, filled with warmth and care and relief.
“We can’t kiss in the archive though, that’s not allowed.” Jon said, pulling back with a little smile. "It's all rather reasonable actually, I can't quite believe it."
“I’m just glad to have a job!” Martin laughed, glancing back over his shoulder, making sure all the researchers were where they were supposed to be and nobody had a question. Jon felt a little rush of pride. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight! To celebrate!” Martin whispered.
“Anywhere you want.” Jon said, and then, on impulse, gave Martin a quick peck. “There, that’s the last kiss in the archives.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” Martin said with a little blush.
Another noise of throat clearing came from the front desk. Jon and Martin both gasped and turned to look, horrified that it might be Elias.
Gerry stared at both of them, expression utterly confused.
“Um, I’m trying to return a box.” He said. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine!” Martin let out a little musical laugh. “It’s fine, everything’s fine.”
And for once, he actually meant it.
-end-