Chapter Text
Tim hates himself, it’s a little known fact that he rarely discloses. It’s easy to put on a show at work, an heir of overcompetance masked behind good humor and a touch of charisma. And right now that self-hate is focused so violently outward his entire body aches.
It’s just the depression, the grief. Reasonably he knows he shouldn’t be too hard on himself but he is. Jean size isn’t a measure of self worth but here he is, measuring it anyways at a party no less. Tim used to be the center of attention, hell- he still is but right now he wants to blend into the wall. He’ll leave in a half hour, he promises himself. He’ll leave and go home to feel sorry about himself in private.
He should work out. He read an article that said working out is a good way to handle depression. So he decides to scroll online to look at any gym deals. Maybe it would be good to focus all of his anger into something less computer oriented. Get rid of all his soft parts and replace them with toned edges. That sounds like a good idea.
Until he sees new guy Jon from research. Every anxiety he’s ever had about his body bubble up immediately. Tim only really talks to Sasha outside of work- and they do not party together. Sasha isn’t fond of big get togethers and being stuffed in a room full of strangers just isn’t her cup of tea. It used to be Tim’s- it still is. He likes parties. Tim crosses his arms over his body and flashes a smile when Jon spots him.
Jon’s clearly drunk, which is weird. It’s weird in so many ways because he saunters up to Tim like he knows what he’s doing and he’s so.. Himself. Still dressed in layers but different. Instead of professional layers he’s in party layers. A tight crop-top shirt, a loose flannel that hangs loose around his elbows, and baggy jeans held up by a thick belt adorned in silver studs that catch in the dim light.
He bounds up quickly, tossing his long hair over his shoulder. Tim tries to act normal but his laugh sounds forced, even to himself.
“Jon! I didn’t know you partied,” he tries to nudge him, tries to get Jon’s intense gaze off of him. “Never clocked you for the type.”
“I’m not,” Jon replies, “The type, I mean. I hate parties- well, I don’t hate them. They’re a very good place to get alcohol but I’m not good with people. You know? How come you’re not dancing?”
Jon asks him earnestly, head tilting to the side. And god- he’s so drunk. Tim considers asking if he’ll need a ride home, instead he bites his lip and shrugs his shoulders, “Not in the mood.”
Which isn’t the full truth but it’s not a lie either. The response placates Jon at least. He looks back at the crowd of people before turning back to Tim and smiling at him,
“Want to go outside? I need some air.”
“Air would be fucking great,” Tim peels himself off the wall and slowly walks outside with Jon.
The night air is crisp and cool. Tim sits down on the curb and Jon sits by his side, hanging his head low between his knees.
“You okay over there?” Tim asks. Jon nods his head a few times, takes a deep breath.
“Are you? I’m not trying to pry but you look very uncomfortable.”
Tim sighs. Jon’s still looking at him, head on his knees and blinking his stupid thick lashes at him. He can’t not look back at him. So he does. He looks into the deep abyss of Jon’s eyes and he stares for a little too long.
“Why are you drunk?” He decides to ask. Jon smiles at him.
“Do you want the truth?”
“That would be most ideal. You can lie but the lie has to be entertaining or you’ll lose like ten points.”
Jon cringes, then sighs, “You can’t be boring about it when I tell you, then.”
Tim gasps, “Me! Boring about it!? Jon, who do you take me for?”
He grins at him. Jon really does have a cute smile. Adorably lopsided, and he has a dimple on his left cheek.
He nudges Jon a little, scoots a little closer to close the space between them. Jon doesn’t lean into him like Tim expected and he’s a little grateful for Jon’s respect of personal space and boundaries.
Jon takes a deep breath and laughs a little, “I saw a spider.”
Tim blinks, “You.. are drunk because you saw a spider.?
“Yeah,” he closes his eyes and his shoulders shake with a silent laugh, “I h-hate spiders a lot. And when I saw it I couldn’t stop thinking about how many spiders might live in my flat. S-So I cleaned my flat and decided to get drunk about it so I would stop hearing them in my walls ‘m not crazy though, just arachnophobic,” Jon clarifies at the end as if that explains everything. Tim tries to imagine Jon desperately scrubbing his flat in a desperate attempt to control his fear and it makes his heart sink into his chest.
Because shit. That’s kind of awful to think about. Tim’s never been afraid of creepy crawlies. When Danny was little Tim had to become resident exterminator. Danny used to stand on any available high surface, wailing until Tim came to his rescue. Jon clearly doesn’t have that luxury because he’s here, drunk off his ass over a spider.
“What about you?” Jon nudges him gently with his elbow.
“I dunno,” Tim replies honestly, “Planned on going for a while, wasn’t really in the mood by the time I got here though,” Jon doesn’t look satisfied at all. Tim sighs a little, then rolls his eyes and looks over his shoulder sharply, “If you’re wondering about why I’m not in the mood. Well,” he smiles dryly, “Jeans were too small, kind of fucked up my entire night.”
Jon makes a face, “Ah, you’ve gained weight!” He exclaims as if he’s just connecting the string of words Tim just told him together again. Tim hates how excited he looks about it, and kind of wants to punch him for being so loud but Jon is plastered and he’s not sure if Jon will remember this conversation tomorrow.
“You noticed-”
“No,” Jon says quickly with a gentle shrug, “Not really. I don’t pay attention to,” he waves his hand in the air, searching for the right words to say. Tim opens his mouth to interrupt but Jon continues, hellbent on talking, “Bodies are just bodies, you know? I don’t like spending a lot of time looking at them in detail.”
“Is that way of saying you didn’t notice or are you going to wrap this into a: ‘you’re not fat, Tim, you’re still pretty.’ thing?” Tim hates the snap in his voice. But Jon simply shrugs again, looking at his own lap.
“I wasn’t going to put it that way, no. I just think you shouldn’t feel bad for existing a certain way. Bodies change like, all the time,” Jon says earnestly, leaning back on his hands and casting a long look out to the overcast sky. His eyes close briefly and Tim worries about how much he’s had to drink, but just as he’s reaching a hand out to him Jon snaps back to full attention, focusing entirely on Tim. “But for what it’s worth you’re still painfully sexy, so I don’t think it matters all that much. You’ve just got.. One of those faces, I think.”
Tim finds himself biting back laughter until it bubbles right out of him. Jon tilts his head to the side but Tim can’t stop. He covers his mouth with his hand and asks between giggles,
“You- you think I’m sexy?”
Jon’s head bobs up and down, “Objectively speaking. You’re a nice average height, you have a really nice smile and you capture everybody’s attention so easily. And you’re. I don’t know how to explain it. You’re like a candle.”
“I’m a sexy candle?”
Jon elbows him, “No- yes- maybe.. Ah, I don’t know. I’m really fucking drunk, Tim,” he laughs quietly, head knocking against Tim’s shoulder. He doesn’t pick it back up
Tim rests his head against Jon’s with a sigh, “I know its a bit fucked up to judge my self worth on jean size.”
“Well you’ve got it backwards, in a way. Shouldn’t you be more self-confident with the bigger numbers?”
“How do you mean?”
Jon sighs but doesn’t lift his head, “Increasing in value, and increasing in ass volume.”
“Ass volume,” Tim echos with a snort, “I mean that is for sure a good thing. Jon- ooh buddy you look like you’re falling asleep. How much did you drink?”
A smile breaks across Jon’s face and he giggles, “You won’t judge me?”
“I’ve no place to judge the drinking habits of my mousy desk partner. Spill your alcohol beans.”
“I had like… a whole bottle of wine, I think? And definitely a lot of vodka. It’s a trap, Tim. The flavors are too enticing and I really like green apple..”
“Holy shit. Jon, you’re like- you’re,” tiny. Tim’s almost 100% certain Jon doesn’t even fit into a size zero but he doesn’t want to bring that up to him while he’s drink. Jon doesn’t even pay attention to bodies so he might not care that much about his own. Tim wishes he could care less about his looks- fuck he’s spiraling,
“How were you walking around earlier?”
Jon shrugs again, he does a lot of shrugging, “Probably the weed.”
“You’re crossfaded!?”
“Shh!” Jon sits up again, shooting a glare at him, “Not so loud! Obviously I’m cross-faded. I’m not exactly ‘party material,’” He shoots up air quotes but in a way he looks gutted. Tim reckons Jon might be a little vulnerable right now, which makes sense. There’s a bar cart’s worth of alcohol in him and god knows how much weed. Tim never expected him to be the type to want to do anything. Jon always seemed very.. Prudish? Like a grandma who goes home and knits until she’s ready for bed
But apparently Jon’s not. He doesn’t like parties but he likes the free alcohol. He drinks because he has a massive phobia of spiders and Tim wonders slash hopes he’s seeing a therapist for that because the idea of a creepy crawly sending anyone into a spiral is just plain sad. (Or scary, all things considered) And on top of all of that, Jon apparently isn’t the judgy asshole Tim previously thought him to be.
Which is why he tosses an arm over Jon’s shoulder and holds him closer, “Let me take you home.”
“The spider is still there,” Jon whines, fingers twitching like he wants to scratch himself.
“Mine then,” Tim corrects, “You can sleep on the couch and I can take care of the spider in the morning. How’s that sound?”
Jon presses his face against Tim’s shoulder and nods slowly. Tim stands first and helps Jon to his feet, which is far too easy. Tim was used to lugging his little brother up from the ground often. Jon is like a small bag of grapes compared to Danny.