Chapter Text
It isn't that Jon is jealous of Tim, exactly. But whenever he looks at Tim, sees the streaks of color that paint his dark skin, a sharp something twists in his gut and doesn't let go until he stops thinking about it.
The thing is, Tim has so obviously been loved. And Jon was so obviously....well, not.
Jon only had the one mark, and it was fairly easily hidden. A violet handprint from Georgie on his upper arm, and that was that. It had started out as a pastel purple when they were dating, as lighter colors indicate a romantic soulmate, but it darkened after they broke up and realized they worked much better platonically. He hadn't gotten any from his parents, since he didn't remember them enough for them to have had a significant impact on his life. It wasn't that Jon minded his lack of marks (except for maybe the sad looks he'd get from nosy strangers in public) but when faced with someone like Tim, it was just unbearable.
Tim had two parallel streaks on his right cheekbone, one a forest green and the other a deep red. There was a dandelion yellow handprint around his left wrist and a baby blue one around his right. A ring of navy blue encircled the little finger of one hand. And that wasn't to mention the colorful assortment of spots and streaks that covered nearly the whole of his body. Jon felt bad for the almost-resentment he felt whenever he saw Tim's marks. Tim was his friend and he shouldn't be upset or jealous that his friend is thoroughly loved. But that logic doesn't help it.
It's not just the fact that Tim has a lot of soulmarks. Jon has known people so covered in them he could barely see their skin tone. The real problem was that Jon wanted to be on his canvas of a body. He wanted to touch him and leave a reminder and get one in return. If he was feeling particularly bold with himself, he'd admit that he wanted it to be in a lighter shade (he'd taken his feelings for Tim and reasoned them into the ground), but mostly he just wanted to know. Tim could say that he was Jon's friend all he liked, but Jon craved that certainty, that undeniable truth that someone cared for him. He hadn't had that since Georgie.
Logically, Jon knew he was being ridiculous. A soulmark wasn't the end all be all of someone's love and he shouldn't be acting like a fool over one. He didn't even like touching that much. No matter how much he repeated this to himself in the bathroom mirror before work, it didn't stop at least part of him to long for running his hand down Tim's arm and seeing that streak of color appear.
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"Good morning to my lovely coworkers!" Tim called out as he practically bounced into the research offices. "It's once again terrible to be up at this hour."
Sasha giggled at his antics and Jon fought down a fond smile. He settled instead for what he hoped to be vaguely neutral. "Good morning to our local menace." He deadpanned, sneaking a glance up to catch Tim's reaction.
"Jonnycakes you wound me." Tim placed a hand over his heart with a dramatic flourish and sank into his chair. "Whatever will I do now that my dearest darlingest Jonny hates me. I'm dying of heartbreak right now."
"I'll be at the funeral." Sasha grinned and flicked a paper clip across the way at Tim. "I'll give a little speech about how massive of a drama queen you are."
"We can put it on the headstone." Jon's smile had broken through. There was something about the way Tim managed to be upbeat and full of life, even when he complained about how tired he was from waking up early.
Tim let out a quiet "ow" as a paper clip hit him in the shoulder and threw a pen at Sasha. She moved out of the way and claimed it as her own when it clattered to the floor. "You're a horrible friend, Sasha." Tim slid down in his chair, flinging a hand across his forehead. "You all are so cruel to me. I cannot stand this."
Sasha giggled as Tim retaliated by throwing a pen across the way at her. It missed, landed in front of her desk, and Sasha stuck her tongue out at Tim as she claimed it as her own. After that, they all seemed to settle into a comfortable near-silence as they worked, asking the occasional quiet question. It was a usual workday, and Jon couldn't help but steal glances over at Tim from time to time. He's nearly certain Sasha is aware of all this, if the looks she keeps on giving him are any hint, but he can't help it really. There's an urge to reach over and grab Tim by the arm or hold his hand or something that he's just barely keeping to himself. Jon wanted to be sure for once, wanted to feel the warmth of receiving a soulmark again, wanted....well, he just wanted. And that was his problem, wasn't it? He wanted so badly and was no good at taking the things he wanted. But Jon had lived like that a long time, and if he was going to love Tim invisibly, he would learn to live with it.
(Because it was love, wasn't it? You couldn't feel things for Tim in halves, it just didn't happen. Something in his DNA demanded the wholeness of emotion, and you either hated or adored him. Jon was coming to the unfortunate realization that he was in the last category.)
_____
It was getting to the time when most reasonable people had left work and gone back to their homes or to go out and do something fun. Jon, who wasn't a reasonable person, was not doing that. He thought he'd found a connection between two statements and was determined to figure it out before he left. It wasn't his fault he had a terrible grasp on the concept of time, and he'd tell that to anyone who asked. No one ever did ask and usually just bugged him about going him, which Jon found very irritating.
Tim was apparently on Annoy Jon Into Leaving At A Normal Hour duty, as he'd sat himself on Jon's desk and was taunting him with Jon's laptop held above his head. "Look, the statements aren't going to run away during the night." He explained, as if to a child. "I know this place is spooky, but I don't think our paper is alive."
"I just don't want to have to restart it in the morning." Jon glared up at Tim, explaining himself for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'll leave once I finish this up, now if I could have my computer back-"
"No can do, Jonnycakes!" Tim smiled, which Jon just had to find endearing. "I know how you get. Let's get a move on."
"Oh, would you just give me that." Jon stands up quicker than Tim can react and reaches to yank his laptop from Tim's hand. It wasn't a permanent solution (Jon has learned that his friends are unfortunately not opposed to picking him up) but Tim just had to be so frustrating about it. He planned to grab his laptop, give Tim a good lecture on why exactly he shouldn't be bothered when he's working, and then hope he can back into the statements enough to finish it before midnight. That was the ideal scenario.
Except it didn't exactly happen that way.
Tim had just enough time to hold the laptop up just a bit higher and Jon grabbed hold of his hand instead. He had half a mind to pull Tim's arm down and grab his computer anyway before any lingering irritation melted out of him as he registered a warm sparking all over the palm of his left hand. The hand he'd used to grab onto Tim. The one that was still currently grabbed onto Tim.
Jon felt like the wind had been punched out of him. Almost immediately he pulled his hand away from Tim's to look over the mark. It was a lovely shade of blush pink that covered almost the entirety of his palm. He flexed his fingers and the residual tingling was the only thing keeping him from believing he was dreaming. There was a stinging behind his eyes, and he almost didn't care that he might cry as he brushed his free hand over his newest mark. It was really there.
"Aw, Jonny, you've got a crush on me. How embarrassing." Tim was already done admiring the soulmark Jon gave him, a mint green handprint around the heel of his palm to the back of his hand. Of course, he would be used to it, having received so many already.
Reluctantly, Jon tore his gaze from his marked hand to glare at Tim, although any heat that might've gone behind it had evaporated away. "Oh, of course, we're making jokes now." He rolled his eyes. "For your information, you also have a crush on me." Saying the words aloud stole the air from Jon's lungs for the second time in five minutes. He'd never thought that Timothy Stoker of all people would reciprocate his feelings, so he'd decided to sit on them until they went away, as usual. But now there was the undeniable evidence, as plain as day, that he did reciprocate. More than that, they were apparently soulmates. He involuntarily let out an undignified wheeze of breath at the realization and Tim broke out into giggles.
"Dude, I've been hitting on you for about two months now." He slid off Jon's desk and pulled up a chair. "You're telling me you didn't notice?" He perched himself in the chair, head resting on his knees and smiling that infuriatingly endearing smile.
"You...well, in my defense, you hit on just about everyone." Jon felt his face heat up and directed his half-hearted glare to the space just next to Tim's head.
"I'm nice to everybody." A few stray giggles burst out of Tim's mouth. "And I've only been hitting on you for the past two months. So...brings up the question of what we're doing with our relationship."
Jon's gaze snapped back to Tim's face, brow furrowing with confusion. "I mean, I assumed we'd be dating." He held up his hand, as if that were irrefutable evidence. He'd never exactly heard of romantic soulmates doing anything but getting together. His grandmother had been pretty by-the-book when it came to soulmates, and in all the books he'd read, a romantic soulmate was essentially your life partner. Those stereotypes were less widely-held by the general public nowadays, but the media hadn't quite gotten around to it.
Tim shrugged, apparently unconcerned with all that. "I mean, traditionally yeah. And I've no issue with dating you." He flashed Jon a smile and a wink that made him flush dark. "But sometimes it doesn't really work out that way, which is fine. Plus, I'm not exactly monogamous, so I get if that's not something you're into. Not everyone is."
"No, it's...I mean, I...I'm not opposed to dating you." Jon mentally smacked himself the second it came out of his mouth. "No, I meant I would like to. And you not being monogamous doesn't bother me, that's alright." He surprised himself with how readily accepting he was of that. It wasn't like he was ever the jealous type, and he trusted Tim.
"Oh, nice! Boyfriends then?" Tim grinned cheekily and held out his hand, like they were finalizing some sort of business deal. With a jolt, Jon realized it was his marked hand. He reached out his own shaky hand and held him where they'd first touched. It made for a bit of an awkward handshake, but they both laughed at it and it left a pleasant warm glow in Jon's chest.
"Boyfriends then." He agreed. "Oh, and I guess as long as we're talking about relationship things. I'm asexual." Jon reluctantly released Tim's hand and brought it to clasp tightly together with his own. "I don't get sexually attracted to anyone, and I don't like sex. Never have, never will. So if...if that's sort of a dealbreaker for you, I'd understand." His words came out stiff and formal, the fear of rejection gnawing deep in his belly.
"Well, I'm glad you told me." Tim said warmly. "I really don't mind. I like you for who you are, not because I'm going nuts over the prospect of boning." He laughed, and Jon felt his worries slide away at that easy smile. "Don't you worry, I still want us to be the power couple of the Institute."
"I thought that was Jenny and Mark." Jon teased. Falling back into their normal banter was easy and comforting. He was coming to another realization, that he'd been worried about their casual dynamic changing to something else. Something more. But it was like nothing had even happened.
(Except something had happened and Jon was absolutely ecstatic and wanted to show off his new soulmark to everyone. He would certainly be showing Georgie)
"Oh, they have got nothing on us." Tim stood up and, in what Jon thought to be a very irritating (endearing) move, placed his hands on Jon's waist and hoisted him up out of his chair and placed him back down on the ground like he were some sort of cat. "Anyway, it's getting late. We ought to be getting home."
Jon rolled his eyes, but made no move to go back to work. "You're horrible." He grumbled. Tim offered his hand and Jon nearly immediately held it. "The absolute worst."
"Yeah yeah. Love you too, Jonnycakes." His tone was light and casual, but he squeezed Jon's hand and he felt like his heart might stop.
They walked to the tube station hand in hand, and Jon couldn't help thinking about how he could get used to this.