Chapter Text
“Jesus, Jon, what the hell is all this?”
A few weeks had gone by since the last date? Hang out? Hang out sounded too immature but Jon wasn’t sure enough to call it a date, and even then he wouldn’t want to go on a date with Martin-I-am-a-spiderling-Blackwood of all people. Or ‘people’, he should say. Anyway, a few weeks had gone by and Jon had really let himself go; he can admit that to himself.
Sat in front of his giant conspiracy board set up in his tiny apartment was Tim (Jon still wasn’t sure what his actual full name was, and he probably never would know, and he had an inkling that it was the same for Tim with Jon’s name), a newer research assistant who he managed to befriend. Tim was nothing like him, actually, something he would never have guessed when he had only met him in passing. When Jon first met Tim, he thought of him as a likeminded, dedicated coworker. Someone Jon definitely was, someone who was no-nonsense and had a lot of drive. Someone who a hundred percent had never accidentally almost lit some paperwork on fire with a lighter because they thought that they’d seen a spider. No, Tim was an extremely cool, smart, normal cool person. Again, someone like Jon. Until he wasn’t.
Tim was actually, Jon mended in his mind after their first night out for drinks as a department, way cooler than he had originally thought. He’s actually really good at being nice and funny and smart, and Jon could do nothing but zone out in wonder while nursing his apple juice. Tim was someone Jon really wanted to be friends with, and he hadn’t gotten that feeling since Georgie, so it was all new to him.
Now, Jon was pretty sure he was going to lose that friendship, standing in front of his ‘Martin Blackwood is Secretly an Evil Spider Person Sent to Destroy the Institute and Me (Jonathan Sims)’ board, with a bunch of red, blue and green yarn connected by thumbtacks and later bluetack when he ran out of thumbtacks. Tim knew everyone, so he definitely knew Martin Blackwood. Jon also knew that Martin Blackwood was evil and scheming and seems really nice but definitely isn’t.
“Listen—Tim, look—“ Jon started, but was soon quickly interrupted.
“Jon, was this what you’ve been busy by? Stalking Martin? Seriously? You cancelled Friday night drinks for this?” Tim narrowed his eyes at him, and Jon slightly dipped his head in shame. Okay, so he may have been stalking Martin Blackwood, but it was to collect evidence! He had his reasons for knowing that his favourite poet was Keats (eugh), for example, which only proved his point of him being evil.
“I have a very, very good reason for everything, just, just wait a minute. I need to tell you this.” Tim sighed, and it was a pretty good sigh by Jon’s rankings, and nodded.
“Fine. If you have a very good reason, I won’t tell Martin that you have pictures of his brand of deodorant.” He said accusingly.
“Thank you. I’ve, I’ve been looking into so-called Martin Blackwood, right?” Jon began pacing around, his feet making soundless thuds against the creaking floorboards, hands out gesticulating, not to emphasise any point but to soothe himself.
“…Yeah? Evidently, I can see that. Clearly. What’s the matter with this?” Tim was still sat on the edge of Jon’s small twinsized bed. It was too clean, unused. “I still really don’t like the fact that you’ve gone all crazy and started stalking one of our coworkers, by the way. Pretty fucked up.”
“Yes, I know it’s fucked up, Tim, just—“ Jon stopped chewing the skin of his thumb, opting to rub his hands together. “He’s been—messing with me. Messing with my head! At first he was all like,” Jon continued in awful mimicry of Martin’s voice, “‘Oh hi, hi Jon! Oh, lovely weather we’re having! Yeah, lets go out and i’ll buy you sweets! I’ll fatten you up and feed you to that DAMN SPIDER!’” He dropped his head into his hands, heaving out a sigh. Tim sat there awkwardly, with a wide look on his face.
“Are you… Okay, mate? Mentally, I mean?” Jon collected himself, drawing himself back up. He was definitely okay. Completely mentally sound. He won’t have Blackwood break him.
“I’m really good, fine, thank you for asking, yes. Okay. Just—just let me, start over. I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you it all.” Tim nodded once more, and Jon took that as his cue to monologue. “A couple months ago, back in August, just after you got employed here, Martin asked to go have tea with me. Just—Just a regular coworker outing, right? Completely normal. I behaved myself really well, you must know, I, I did everything right. I noticed—noticed that the conversation was… just, not getting along well,” Tim hummed sagely to that, “and I knew I had to break it, you know? And so I mentioned how I had almost gotten killed by a spider when I was little—“
“Sorry, sorry, you what?”
“I said, I told him about how I almost got killed by a spider—“
“No, no I heard that, I just mean. You trauma-dumped because the conversation was getting dry?” Tim looked at him like he was weird for that, and Jon definitely was, he knew, there was no buts.
“Yes, yes I know, will you please let me finish!” Tim winced, and he felt a bit bad for that. Jon had been exploding left and right lately to people who hadn’t deserved it. Poor Sonja… “I just, I didn’t know what to say, so I blanked. But honesty, Tim, I wasn’t even that bad. After all that, Martin goes on to tell me that he likes spiders! Tim! You have to understand me here!”
He shakes his head, “Yeah, that’s definitely a shite move. Can’t defend him on that. What I can and will defend him on is that you’re stalking him over it!”
“He goes on to tell me that he’s a spiderling, Tim! He just right out and said it! And—And look, I know you’re gonna say something,” Tim looked at him with a look of increasing disdain, “but listen to me, please, let me finish. After, after I ran, a couple weeks go by. It’s September at this point, and Martin, he keeps following me. He, he keeps trying to get me. And he did! He got me, and, and he made me give him my number, and then we meet up at this, this bakery, and I tell him. Because during the, the conversation, he seemed nice, he didn’t act like a spiderling. And I thought maybe, just—just maybe, I was wrong? And so I tell him, I tell him how I thought he was going to kill me, and, and he gets rightfully mad, and we get more desserts, I finally get the tiramisu he’d been pestering me about, and just. It’s good, I have more than one bite, but his—his order, Tim. Tim, his order was the seasonal cupcakes. And they were spiders. And the way he looked at me, the gleam in his eyes. I knew he was evil. And so thats why I texted him when I got home.”
“Jon, you what?! Jon, seriously, Martin’s a creep for following you around after that first date, but you texted him after that? Are you insane? You’re scared of him, why won’t you file for HR?”
“I can’t! You don’t know what HR’s like here! I’ve seen what they’ve done to people! Tim, this is only something I can take care of, but I need your help. I need you—“
“No, Jon, you do need my help but not with something like this. You need fucking therapy.” He stood up, looking down on Jon from where he was hunched over. “Look at you, mate, you look horrible. You’ve got bags under your eyes. He’s been stressing you out, Martin, and I—You’re letting yourself go. You’re so scared of him, yet you’re stalking him, instead of getting help. Why didn’t you tell anyone before? Why didn’t you tell me before?” He looked genuinely hurt, placing his hands on Jon’s shoulder.
“Who—who could I have told? I can’t exactly just tell a new coworker that. It’s—Tim, please, just help me this once, I promise, I promise I’ll stop. I’ll stop following Martin around, I—I just need you to do this for me. I need you to help me know, please.” Tim sighed, dropping his head down and holding it there for a few seconds, before inhaling and collecting himself.
“Okay, fine. After this, you’ll go to the pub with us again, and you’ll tear down that corkboard.” Jon definitely wasn’t going to tear down the corkboard but he was interested in the pub nights.
“Deal.”
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There was something seriously wrong with Jon.
Not that Jon was a bad guy, it's just that he could be… really, really strange at times. Like how he once tried to set his desk alight because he spotted a spider, or how he kept multiple empty fountain pens in his cup and only used a single one, so when people obviously ask for a pen because, you know, he has like ten of them, he says no because none of them have ink. That sort of stuff. Still, Jon was a nice guy! Tim liked going out on adventures—or as Jon would say, research expeditions—with him. He enjoyed seeing Jon stumble over his words as he obviously tried to lie to the people they were investigating; he enjoyed how headstrong Jon was, how determined. Reminded him of Danny. Anyway, Jon was nice to hang around but was still strange. Tim had always known that. But this was seriously on another level.
Tim stood, hands gripped on the plastic bags of takeout, mouth agape at the sight of two giant corkboards with red yarn connecting photos of Martin of all people. There was even a whiteboard with smudged ink and messy writing, random arrows pointing at different paragraphs, and the word "spider" showing up more than once. A frightening amount of time, actually.
On the top of the whiteboard was written, 'Martin Blackwood is Secretly an Evil Spider Person Sent to Destroy The Institute and Me (Jonathan Sims)'. This was, a part of Tim distantly thought, the first time he actually got Jon's full name. Another, more active part of himself was filled with bafflement, confusion, and fear. Jon was stalking Martin. Martin Blackwood, one of the nicest people Tim has ever met, was apparently evil? And a Spider Person? This wasn't just a silly little quirk of Jon's anymore, where his arachnophobia could be considered somewhat charming, this was actually getting dangerous. He was developing the same delusions he claimed the people they investigated had.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Tim was definitely not made to do this; he wasn't a professional! But still, Tim was probably Jon's only friend, he had a duty to tell Jon if he was going batshit or not. "Jon, hey Jon, buddy," Jon, from his hunched position leering over the corkboard, fingers twitching, turned with a guilt-ridden expression, lips pulling into a slight frown. "Jon, remember when you told me that you wanted to invite me over for takeout at your house? That you wanted to tell me something super secret and important? I'm sorry, but what the hell is this?" Tim gestured with his free hand, sweaty from how hard he fisted it, to the array of photos. They were all wrinkled, all documenting Martin's personal belongings: his poetry books, his tea bags, which he keeps in the library breakroom, his favourite cups with the cute cows, his brand of deodorant for god's sake!
“Listen—Tim, look—“ Jon (whose full name was apparently Jonathan Sims, and Tim wasn't exactly sure if Jon knew his full name) started, but was soon quickly interrupted.
“Jon, was this what you’ve been busy with? Stalking Martin? Seriously? You-you cancelled Friday night drinks for this?” Tim narrowed his eyes at him, and Jon slightly dipped his head in shame. His hands were shaking so he quickly fisted them closed again. Tim knew that when dealing with-with unstable people like this, he had to keep calm. Jon couldn't take any more added stress or he might—break or something. Tim had to calm down and figure out what the fuck was going on.
"Just-just please, Tim, listen! I swear, I swear I'll explain everything; I know how bad things look, I know, but I-I just—I just need someone to listen to me!" Jon was raising his voice, hands strung and pulling at each other, and Tim faintly realised that he was scared of this man. If he were so convinced that one of the-the kindest people Tim had ever met was evil and went on to stalk them, then what would it take for Jon to do the same to him? Would Jon also accuse him of being a spider person?
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Jon was strange.
Not a quirky type of strange, though Jon had plenty of that: having multiple broken fountain pens in his cup, almost setting himself on fire when spotting a spider, and proceeding to say that it was the spider’s fault, actually, and that they were all out to get him, thank you very much. Jon was quirky, sure, but he was plenty more strange-strange. The type of strange that makes you recommend talking to a therapist about.
For example, right now, in Jon’s living room, there was a massive corkboard. On that corkboard were strings and strings of red, blue, and yellow yarn connecting different pictures of Martin K. (Tim still has no clue what his middle name is) Blackwood to several sticky notes, the word ‘spider’ highlighted and underlined in every one of them. That, Tim thought morosely to himself, was strange-strange. Psychopathic. Tip-toeing out of the realms of ‘oh that's just regular-degular Jon, he’s always like that’ into genuine insanity.
Setting down the plastic bags that were filled with pizza boxes, Tim stepped towards the corkboard, labelled ‘Martin Blackwood is Secretly an Evil Spider Person Sent to Destroy The Institute and Me (Jonathan Sims)’, and turned to look at Jon, the man of the hour, was hunched over, with greasy hair plastered over his sweat-stained brows, flicking and picking at the skin around his fingers. Tim inhaled, trying desperately to not freak the fuck out, and put on his best Sasha. “…Jon,” he said in a low tone, the same one parents used when chiding their children, “are you stalking Martin? The same Martin who brings us tea even though we work in completely different departments?”
Jon looked thoroughly chastised, bunching further in on himself. “L-listen!” He stressed with his weak protests, “I know, I know-w how this looks, Tim. Seriously I do! But—but you have to hear me out, please,”