Work Text:
The day was quite bright and warm, at least for London in march. The sun rays carelessly poured down on the grey streets, but Jonathan Sims could not feel that warmth. Down in the archives the air was dry and musty as usual. The Head Archivist was flipping through some papers and preparing his ancient tape recorder. Silence was almost palpable. He drew in a deep breath and began his speech.
"Right, so, ekhm," he brushed his dark hair back and assumed his professional pose "Statement of Benjamin Smith regarding the loss of his childhood pet tarantula..."
Without any knock the doors sprung open and a slightly out of breath assistant came in.
"Do you need those files right now? Oh, oh, sorry I didn't notice you were, um, recording."
"Yes, Martin I am, you should pay more attention and first and foremost knock." Jon barely moved his eyes up from the papers.
"Sorry, I'll just disappear right now. I also brought you some tea. I don’t know how you usually drink it so it’s pretty basic stuff."
“Yes, thank you.” The tone was bone chilling to say the least.
The aforementioned folder was inaudibly laid on the desk alongside with the cup and the doors close with a slight creak.
"Eh, what even are those, hm, just some menial paperwork. Martin is, as always, overeager, but at least he does his work, I must admit that. Ah, this take is garbage i'll just start ov-
-click-
Thursday afternoon was dragging on mercilessly. From the Archivist's office came tired voices of bickering.
"No Tim, I asked you to check the house of the House of the Ever-changing Design not the Ever-changing Design of the House. Honestly, I had no idea that there is a whole newspaper dedicated to the intricate designs of gables, but.. that's not the point. You were supposed to look into a cult, not an architecture gazette. ugh, am I the only one paying attention here."
"Well, to my defense their editor was looking kinda spooky." Tim retorted crossing his arms and looking away feigning offence.
"We do not investigate "spooky stuff" but serious supernatural phenomena." Jon sounded tired despite it being 10 am.
"Oh yeah, because you're the one to believe any of the statements you're provided with?"
Jon was about to go off when there was a slight knock on the door and a small figure appeared from the corridor.
"Hello, sorry, I brought some tea."
"Yes, yes, leave it here." Jon was still annoyed and furiously chucked the report on the latest home design trends in London down the bin.
"What about a tea for me Martin?" Tim made his charming smile, just as Martin set Jon's cup in a safe distance from the papers.
"Oh, um, I didn't know you like tea."
"We drink a cup with Sasha literally every break." the eye roll was barely contained within his eye sockets.
"Well, you make tea for yourself, Jon is shut in here all day and apparently does not have any will to move." Martin seemed unmoved my the remarks of both men.
"And somebody was to water him or he's going to wilt?” Tim barely responded, when Jon interjected.
"Can you please continue this conversation elsewhere? I have, surprisingly, another statement to take." He rubbed his eyes together, an obvious sign he was done with the present situation.
"Sure, boss."
"Sorry."
After the last bit of commotion it all became quiet again. The room was filled with dank stench of old papers, but apart from that, a floral, deep smell wafted in front of the Head Archivist. This time, the tea did not have its regular black hue, but a mix of dark purple. The melange of berries enticed Jon and for the first time he enjoyed the drink instead of gulping down the cold strain well after it got cold.
The work was light that day and not so boring as to turn their brains into a mushy pulp. Jon didn't catch who or when proposed for them all to go grab a drink. Only too late did he realize he was crouched in a restaurant booth, Tim hitting him in the ribs while gesticulating wildly, the other side of his body chilled from leaning against cold tiles. The thought of a warm meal awaiting him was the only good prospect this evening held. The three of them were talking about Star Wars or whatever newest sci-fi movie came out. Jon couldn't be bothered with outlandish media while spending all his day at work investigating supposedly supernatural phenomena in real life.
The night out was longer than he expected, after the dinner they all stayed for a beer or two. He hated to let it show but he was quite lightweight. Apparently Martin was as well. He was strangely talkative after just two beers. His merry laughter resounded every time something remotely funny was spoken. After couple of beers Jon himself couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle hearing Tim ramble on, trying to show off in front of Sasha.
"So, alright, we've established that the whole "chosen one to save the galaxy is a dumb trope" in sci-fi, but what do you guys hate about romance movies?” Sasha smoothly changed topics.
"I always thought that love at first sight was a load of bullcrap. It's not love you weirdos, it's attraction, the best you can say is a hookup at first sight." Tim said without a second thought.
"Looks like we've got an expert on that..." Sasha responded quietly.
"What was that supposed to mean?" Tim said, deeply offended, but after a minute of a stare down with Sasha they both laughed out loud.
"For me every movie that has "fated encounters" is a load of bollocks." Jon shared his opinion faster than he could process it. After being a passive listener this whole evening his sudden comment roused the others in disbelief.
"You're trying to tell us that the all-grumpy, serious Head Archivist himself indulges in some sappy romances? Unbelievable!" Tim said feigning shock.
Sasha was about to make an additional remark, but Martin butted in with "Frankly, I don't agree."
"What? That's nonsense. Such things do not happen in real life and even in movies they're far fetched and clearly done when the director has no idea for the plot." Jon worked himself up and moved closer to the rest of the gang.
"I think it is possible, people's emotions come in wide variety. Besides, even if it is a hookup in the beginning it can blossom into a beautiful relationship later." Martin countered with a confident face.
"Oh Martin, you and your hopeless romanticism." Tim sighed resting his chin on his hand. "If only life was as gentle to us mortals as you are."
"Pfft, stop it." Martin’s face grew more red in addition to the pinkish hue caused by the alcohol. Meanwhile Jon was spacing out looking directly at his opponent thinking of a good comeback.
"I-is something wrong Jon?" Martin said, suddenly aware of the weight of Jon’s eyes on him.
“Frankly? Frankly?! I don't agree with you .” It was clear he wanted to say some more, but words just kept getting lost on the way from his brain to mouth.
“Alright, I think this debate will have to wait till some other day. Come on now, let’s go” Sasha dispelled any further conversation and left the bar. Once they got outside they all said their goodbyes and left.
But the meeting did not end as fast. Jon was apparently more lightweight than he expected and after standing up abruptly his head started swirling around.
He found the nearest bench and with a groan suiting his age and tired bones he plopped down. The night air managed to clear his head out a bit but his mouth was still filled with this heavy taste of alcohol. What would he do for a mouthwash right now.
"Are you alright?” The question came out of nowhere, since Jon had his eyes closed, but the voice was familiar enough that he did not worry about being mugged by a stranger.
"Yes of course. I'm just... tired. Go home Martin, can't you see I'm busy."
"I'm sure you are." As he spoke a small puff of air rose and quickly dissolved. Despite the late spring the nights could get chilly and both men soon started shivering.
"Come on Jon, you can't just sit here and wait for morning."
"I can. This way I won't have to meddle with the morning rush on the tube. I've got it all planned out." He raised his finger up as if he solved a troublesome problem.
"I'm sure you have." Martin smiled gently and offered Jon his hand. The other man reluctantly accepted the gesture and, with help, stood up.
"Now, will you tell me where you live so that I can be sure you get there safely?"
"Isn't that violation of privacy? Jon's brain started thinking very hard about every reason as to why Martin would like to know where he lives, but all that came up was the sudden urge to pee.
"If you don't want to tell me, I'll just ring Sasha, she'll be glad to help." Martin got a better hold of his arm and started walking. With his arm held tight Jon felt a surge of warmth that he did not encounter in, honestly, years. A warmth that could be felt both with his skin and with scent that reminded him of fresh linens. Martin. For the first time, probably ever, he did not despise the encounter. The brain, lulled with alcohol, could not muster enough strength to hate him and he just gave in to the grip.
Mumbling under his breath, the Head Archivist told him the address and slowly but surely they travelled to a small apartment.
After the lights flickered, and the shoes were taken off Jon sank down in his favourite tacky armchair. He sure was glad his bulbs were not bright as he did not particularly wanted to watch things with the beginning of a hangover crawling in.
"So, I'm just gonna leave you to it."
"Uhm" was the only word that Jon got out of himself. He felt a quick brush against his hair, but didn't have any power to register it.
"Sleep well." Martin whispered and closed the doors behind himself.
Jon almost dozed off completely, but awoke is the last burst of energy his body reserved for the night. He quickly went through the last half an hour of his life and decided that no danger awaited him. Morosely, he washed himself and on his way to the bed he noticed a cup on the table. The tea was barely tepid by this point.
"...10 years after the statement there is not much to recollect. Amy died two years after her encounter with the supposedly possessed vending machine so that's a dead end. I sent Tim on a wild goose chase in search of this machine but to no avail. Honestly, what did I expect. There is however one interesting detail..." A quick knock on the door and Jon is brought back to the real world.
"Hello, sorry, don't want to interrupt..." A blonde head peeked from the corridor.
With a long exhale Jon covered his face in his hands. "You already did Martin. What's going on?"
"We found a book in the artifact storage that might pertain to the case, um, 009280, would you like to check it out? Right after you finish of course."
"Yes, yes, I'll be there as soon as I'm done." He reached out his hand, ready to receive another cup. "Thank you." Jon went back to the papers with one hand on the tape recorder and one hand in the air.
The doors quickly shut, but the Archivist found himself waiting, which caught him off guard. His hand was still reaching out. Half shocked half embarrassed, he put it back down on the desk. Why was he stupefied by this reaction he could not guess, until he looked around his office. Martin was gone but he didn't leave anything. Jon was so certain there would be fresh, warm tea.
"Pft, stupid..."
-click-
Another week, another day in the archives.Despite it being june, the concrete walls of the institute were not sufficiently heated and Jon found himself wandering to the break room, which was outside of his norm, but alas, it did have a heater. Just as he walked in, a peal of laughter filled the air. Sasha and Tim were sitting by the table sharing a box of reheated fries. Martin was reclined on the sofa by the kitchenette. Warmth.
“Erm, Jon?” Martin asked. “Are you feeling okay?”
"Yeah, what's gotten into you, showing up in here?" Sasha chuckled.
"I just wanted to warm up. I had no idea that my office was so cold. Probably I'm coming down with something." He barely went inside uncertain where to place himself.
"Maybe you'd like to chill down on the couch?" Martin said scooting away. With a heavy plop The Archivist plunged himself down.
"Well, it is quite cold in your office. To be honest I never really knew how you can withstand those temperatures, but I guess it must be because you're so cold-blooded." Tim chuckled as Sasha smacked him on the arm.
"Maybe a tea will warm you up?" Martin said as he got up and moved to the kettle.
"Yes. Yes, actually it will warm me up just fine." Only now did Jon let the soft couch fully embrace him. Soon the warmth of the beverage spread inside him. Martin sat down next to him, holding his own cup. The tea was delicious.