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Elias found his new archivist in the breakroom, staring unblinkingly at the coffee pot, fist curled around a statement.
“Something bothering you, Jon?” Elias asked, and Jon sprung around, clutching his chest. When he saw it was only Elias, the tension sagged out of him.
“Christ,” he said, annoyance in his voice. “Do you sneak up on all your employees like this?”
Three weeks in the job, and he was already talking back. He was a rather unpleasant man, Elias had to admit, and his fashion sense was dreadful, but he had potential. With the right prodding and influence he could turn out to be quite the asset. Jon already served Beholding, each late-night investigation while he still worked in the research department had made that clear. Despite the spider having touched him first, he was as natural an acolyte for the eye as Elias himself.
Elias raised his eyebrow. “You seem to be far less aware of your surroundings than your colleagues.”
“Sorry, you’re right, I was just—”
“In the middle of something?” Elias offered with a smile. Jon nodded, eyebrows knotting together. Elias took a step closer. “And what could you possibly still be doing here at midnight?”
Jon scratched his head. “I might have… lost track of time.”
He was an excellent choice indeed.
“Well, since you’re here, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how are you settling into the job? Everything going smoothly?”
Jon sighed, placing his hands on his hips, managing to look both frazzled and stern at the same time.
“The archives are a mess, it’s frankly impressive that Gertrude managed to create such chaos down there, then there’s the fact that I still haven’t managed to record Nathan Watts' statement, no matter what I do, it ends up corrupting, and then there’s Martin—”
“Careful now, Jon. I might get the impression you’re not happy with your promotion.”
Jon glared at him. “Are you threatening to send me back to research?”
“Of course not,” Elias said, pleasantly, walking up to Jon, so they were only an arm’s length apart. “ I am in fact quite satisfied with your work.”
Jon furrowed his brows. “Are you?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be? You’re working very hard to sort out the archives, and I’m told you’re well on your way.”
“Well on my way is an overstatement. We’d need about a dozen hands to get it done within the year. And I keep finding statements everywhere. Last night I found one under the sink, Elias. Why on earth would she have left a statement under the sink?”
“Misfiling?” He said it with a leniency he hadn’t shown Gertrude while she was alive. “Listen Jon, Gertrude had her quirks, and I understand it must be difficult for you to sort out her mess, but you’ve got your assistants to help you.”
Jon groaned. “Tim and Sasha have been brilliant, I wouldn’t have made it this far without them. But Martin... why did you have to send him down to the archives?”
“You said you needed three assistants, Jon. Martin was what we could spare. Besides he volunteered.”
“Really?” Jon asked and Elias had to suppress the urge to laugh. If Jon had only known how enthusiastic Martin had been when Elias told him of the job opening. He’s practically jumped out of his seat, eagerness radiating off of him. Elias didn’t know how long this crush had lasted, frankly he didn’t care to find out. But there was something in Martin Blackwood’s eagerness, that just meant Elias had to send him down to the archives. There was an inkling in Elias’ mind that he’d prove to be useful, but if he wasn’t then at least his crush on Jon would be entertaining.
“Really,” Elias answered Jon. “Now, I must say, that while your frustrations are understandable, you’re not dealing with them as well as I’d like.”
Jon looked confused. “Elias, I’m— does it matter how I deal with my frustrations?”
“Yes.” Elias let a small smile play on his lips. “Sometimes venting can help, but it’s rarely a true solution. You must make sure you relax every once in a while, take your mind off the stress.”
“I relax,” Jon said, then in a lower voice, “sometimes.”
Elias let his hand rest on Jon’s shoulder. Jon looked at it, and his muscles tensed up a bit. Elias really had to do something about that, Jon’s suspicion towards kindness, well his kindness anyway. He squeezed his palm over the muscle, and Jon clenched his jaw.
“I can feel how tense your shoulders are, Jon,” Elias said in the voice of a concerned parent. That hit a nerve. Elias could read it both on Jon’s face and in his racing thoughts. Jon who had lost his parents way too young, who had never had someone take care of him. And so, in the end it was easy for Elias to slide his hand over the shoulder, to step behind Jon, close enough that he could smell the fruity shampoo Jon used, close enough that he noticed how it clashed with Jon’s aftershave. And when he placed both hands on Jon’s shoulders and kneaded, Jon let out a breath and closed his eyes.
His hands roamed over Jon’s back and shoulders, slowly working the tension from his archivist. Elias allowed himself a peek into Jon’s mind and was pleased with what he found there. Little shivers of pleasure ran up Jon’s back, as Elias rubbed his thumbs into the other man’s neck. It must have been a very long time indeed since anyone touched Jon like this.
Once all the tension had drained from Jon, he opened his eyes again and cleared his throat. The fun was over.
“Thank you,” Jon said, in his once again haughty, cold voice. Elias smirked to himself.
“Anytime, Jon,” Elias said, as he gave Jon a final pat on the shoulder, then left the room.