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The first thing Tim thinks when he meets Jonathan Sims is he’s shorter than I expected.
Though Tim doesn’t know what he expected, really. He’s not usually one to put much stock in rumors, but after the tenth time he’d heard the name Sims whispered in the break room or in the hallway in passing or in the area behind the Institute marked off for smoking, he got curious. Maybe it was because of just how different all of the rumors were.
He’s just so standoffish, don’t you think? I tried to say hello once, you know, just to be polite, and I don’t even think he looked at me. It’s a bit rude, don’t you think? I was just being nice.
I had to take a whole week off when my sister died—funeral arrangements and such—and he offered to take on my workload for the week. And you know, I really think he was sincere when he gave his condolences. He’s rather kind, when you give him a chance.
I swear, I left for lunch, and when I came back it didn’t look like he’d left at all. I invited him once, just to the canteen, and he got this look on his face and said no, thank you. It was polite, but—I don’t know, like being polite was an inconvenience?
Elodie—you know, she volunteers at that animal shelter in Brixton—said she saw him there one weekend, just- just staring at the cats. When she asked him if he was interested in any of them, he said his flat didn’t allow pets. Apparently, he sounded so heartbroken about the fact she nearly offered to write a note to his landlord to appeal for special consideration. God, can you believe it? Jonathan Sims, getting all teary-eyed over some kittens.
Despite his efforts against it, Tim had built up quite an image of Jonathan Sims, who he’d somehow managed to avoid actually meeting until his second week working at the Institute. Elias Bouchard’s week-long training program was boring, tedious, and way too invasive for a job that barely provides a living wage, and it kept him from doing any actual work (and from having access to the library, which apparently he couldn’t access until he was properly trained). By the time he finally got assigned a desk in the research department, he was tired and annoyed and itching to finally get some real work done.
He meets Jonathan Sims in front of the section of the library regarding circuses, the nametag clipped onto the lapel of his suit jacket just barely visible beneath the impressive stack of books he’s carrying. (He’s one of the only people who actually wears that stupid ID they give us, his mind supplies in the voice of Mark from the filing department.) After short, Tim registers in quick succession grey-streaked hair cropped close to his ears and thin rectangular glasses and dark purple chipped nail polish. (And, unhelpfully, the fact that none of the rumors had mentioned the fact that he’s hot, in that kind of bookish, professorial way.)
Then, Jonathan seems to notice that Tim’s there, and he takes a small step back from the shelves. “I’m sorry, am I in your way?”
His voice is deep, and Tim’s too busy thinking about that voice cooing at kittens to properly register his words at first. The pause is just shy of embarrassing when Tim finally says, “No, you- you’re good.” He eyes the stack of books in Jon’s arm with curiosity. “A little late-night reading material?”
Jonathan opens his mouth, then pauses and seems to shrink back into himself ever so slightly. “They’re for a case,” he says flatly, holding the books a bit closer to his chest.
(Don’t think he has much of a social life outside of this place, to be honest. I mean, heh, I really don’t either, but at least I go home at a reasonable hour.)
“You know,” Tim says brightly, “I think I have a few more I could recommend to you. I don’t know if they already have them in the library, but I could get you a list? Oh, or I could just let you borrow one? I have a few back at my place—I can bring them in for you if you’d like?”
Jonathan gives Tim a wary look. “That would be… very helpful, thank you.”
“Great!” Tim makes a mental note to stop by a bookshop (or ten) after work. “Oh, I’m Tim, by the way. I just started—I work in research.”
Jonathan seems to brighten at this, if only slightly, and Tim counts that as a win. “I suppose we’ll be seeing more of each other, then. I’m Jonath—er. Jon. You can call me Jon.”
Jon. Tim neatly disposes of every whispered rumor and false image attached to the name Jonathan Sims and replaces it with Jon. It fits more comfortably in his mind, fits better with the man standing in front of him who’s now smiling, if a bit tentatively.
“I don’t suppose they’ve assigned you a case yet?” he says, shifting his grip on the books as he does so. “If you’d like, I… I could request that you be added to this one. As you can see, it’ll be quite a bit of work, and I could use your expertise. Or even just a second pair of eyes at this point.”
(Not much of a team player, in my opinion. Tried to work a case with him last year and he wouldn’t even let me touch the files. Now, I don’t even try.)
“You’re in luck! As it happens, my schedule is completely open.”
Jon seems a bit surprised to have such ready agreement. “Right. I- I’ll get that arranged then.” He hesitates a moment, then says, “Would… would you like to take some of…?”
(Doesn’t ask for help. Thinks he has to do this job all on his own.)
Tim’s starting to get the feeling that he hasn’t heard a single completely true thing about Jon before now. (Well. Maybe except for the kittens. Tim really, really hopes except for the kittens.)
Tim takes half of the books and brings them back to Jon’s desk. The research is just as long and arduous as Jon said it would be, but it’s exactly what Tim’s been looking for—evil clowns and all. So he stays late that day, and then the next, and then the next after that.
Tim makes mistakes, and Jon is blunt when he corrects them, but not cruel or snappish. Tim suggests they stop for dinner and doesn’t push when Jon says (with unnecessary guilt) that it’ll interrupt his workflow. (Though Tim does begin to bring leftovers; enough for two.) Tim mentions offhand that he enjoys rock climbing, and Jon spends the next ten minutes asking Tim about his setup and where he likes to go and how much training he has to do, eyes wide and curious.
They finish the case. And when Jon hesitantly asks if Tim wants to work the next one with him as well, saying yes is as easy as breathing.