Work Text:
Martin had only sat down at his desk a few minutes prior when he heard Jon’s voice coming from upstairs, sounding displeased. There was another voice alongside his, and he could tell that they were arguing.
“You understand, this area is generally off limits to the public,” Jon was saying, as they came through the doorway. Martin picked up a folder, attempting not to stare too much at who was making the commotion.
“Hey, look man, it’s your company dime that flew us over here. What’s his name, Bouchard? He’s the one that was so insistent on me giving my statement in person, but if that’s a problem, we can go, no harm no foul.” The man speaking was handsome and tall, with a neatly trimmed goatee, square glasses, and brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail.
Jon scowled. “We deal with sensitive subject matter, and once again, if I could ask your--friend--to wait upstairs, that would be ideal.”
For the first time, Martin noticed the other man, who hadn’t yet said a word, and seemed to be sticking as close as possible to the taller one.
“You think Benrey’s gonna, what, spy on your super secret institute?” The tall man continued, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “We never even heard of you before we got that letter in the mail, and what’s more, who sends a letter? Especially one closed with a wax seal? Is that even legal? Is that what the post office is here?”
“We have a very nice waiting room upstairs,” Jon said, cuttingly.
“Huh? I can wait right here, bro,” the other man (Benrey?) spoke for the first time, and instantly slumped to the floor, sitting down with his legs crossed.
“Benrey, no, you don’t have to do that.” The tall man attempted to cajole him back onto his feet, but he only took off his backpack and started rummaging through it.
Jon sighed. “Whatever, come on into my office, I’ve not got all day.”
When the door shut behind the two men, it was finally silent in the archives. Tim and Sasha were out on a research trip, so Martin was left alone with the strange man.
“I can get you a chair, if you like?” Martin said at last, putting down the folder and looking over at him.
“What?” Benrey looked up at him from under the brim of his hat. A few dark, wavy curls were poking out from beneath it. He’d pulled a Nintendo Switch from his backpack and he barely acknowledged Martin before looking back at it. “Ha, nah bro I’m good.”
Well, Martin certainly wasn’t going to get any work done while there was an American who refused to sit in a chair here.
“I, uh, don’t suppose you’d care for some tea?”
Benrey looked at him blankly.
“It’s really no trouble. Jon’s a bit, er, prickly, but I promise you the rest of us are a lot more welcoming.” Martin stood, and, feeling awkward about talking down to him, but feeling more awkward about potentially scrunching his not small frame down onto the floor next to him, he decided to take the middle ground and lean against the wall. Perfect, now he really felt like an idiot.
“I’ve got biscuits in the kitchen,” Martin offered, when he still got no response. He glanced at Benrey’s backpack that he’d set next to himself, and at last saw a saving conversational grace. “Oh! I like your pride pins.”
“Wh--oh yeah, Tommy got those for me.”
“Oh, is that your--that man who came in with you?”
Benrey shook his head. “Freeman. Dilf though, am I right?”
“A what?” Martin turned a bit red, wondering if he’d misheard.
“Oh, I dunno what you call it here, it means dad I’d like to fuck,” Benrey said, somehow with a completely straight face. “Y’can’t though, because he’s taken.”
“Oh, no, that’s--that’s not my intention at all.” Martin was now completely red in the face, and he gave up on trying to make his position leaning against the wall look casual, standing up straight and returning to his desk.
“Nice. Hey, you have Playstation Plus?”
“Uh, no, sorry. I’m not--I’m not much for video games.”
“Hmm?” Benrey finally got up from the floor and came over to sit on Martin’s desk. Which. Not better!
“Well, I, I never really had the money, when I was younger, and now…”
“Now you gotta work at this shithole? Seems like it sucks.”
“It doesn’t--I mean, it’s one of the better paying jobs I’ve had,” Martin ran a hand through his hair. “And I’m meant to be getting a raise in the next couple months, and my coworkers are rather nice, and Jon is...uh…”
“Oh, I gotcha.” Benrey did finger guns in his direction. “He’s a dick, but like, the kinda dick you wanna kiss.”
“I would not say it like that,” Martin hissed. But honestly, it might be somewhat nice to tell someone about his crush, someone he wasn’t likely to see again, seeing how Benrey was a really bizarre American. Or maybe they were all like that?
“Say it like you wanna say it then.” Benrey shrugged.
“Look, I know he comes off as abrasive on the outside, but, well, I think he’s just not that good with people?”
Benrey let his feet dangle from the edge of the desk, and kicked against the wood a little. He really was short, maybe not as short as Jon, but it was hard to tell without having them side by side. “You gotta kiss your frog, bro? Gotta turn him into a prince?”
Martin frowned. “I’m not stupid, I know he’s not going to look at me one day and fall for me. It’ll likely never happen. I don’t even know why I’m talking about this, to be honest.”
“That’s not very cash money of you,” Benrey said. “Go get your mans, bro.”
“He’s my boss, anyway,” Martin said. “It’s only a crush.”
“Okay, whatever. If you wanna talk gay shit some more though, and you get Playstation Plus, here’s my gamertag.” Benrey grabbed a post-it from Martin’s desk and scribbled it down.
As if by supernatural forces, that was the moment when Jon’s office door swung open.
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Freeman,” Jon’s curt voice carried through the room. “I trust you’ll be going. Now.”
Dr. Freeman swaggered over to Benrey. “Ready to go, babe?”
Jon glared at them both until they left, then glanced at Martin, who suddenly realized he hadn’t done any work at all the entire time he’d been talking to Benrey.
“A waste of time,” Jon said, in that way that was only partly to Martin, and mostly to himself. “Black Mesa Sweet Voice. Headcrabs. Ropes that aren’t ropes. Not a lick of evidence for any of it, and what’s more, that’s in America. We’ve got more than enough of our own research here. I don’t know what Elias was thinking, asking him to come here.”
“Do--do you want me to do any sort of follow up, then?”
Jon looked at him, then, really looked at him, and Martin wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if Jon’s gaze really did soften then.
“No, Martin. Like I said, it's all a bunch of nonsense. We’ve got real work to do, after all.”
“Fancy a cup of tea, first?”
“Yes, I--I think I would, after that experience.”