Chapter Text
Martin desperately wants to dislike the man in front of him, he swears he does, but all he can think about are how gorgeous his eyes are, or the shadow of stubble on his jaw, or-
“Mr. Blackwood?”
“Ah! Y-yes, sorry. What were you saying?” He knows his cheeks are bright red, and for the millionth time in his life, he curses his ginger genes. To his interviewer’s credit, the only reaction is a small quirk of a brow.
“I was saying , Mr. Blackwood, that we do indeed have an opening in the Archives.” Martin’s eyes widened, and he tried not to look too hopeful. Tim always teased him, saying that his puppy-eyes were more dramatic than his dog, Arthur.
“T-hat’s why I applied, yes. I know Tim, um, Timothy Stoker. He recommended the Magnus Institute.”
“I see.”
Tim had warned Martin about Jonathan Sims, the Head of the Magnus Institute, between cursing the ‘spooky’ nature of the Archives and raving about his new work friend, Sasha. He had expressly told him not to meet Jon if possible. ‘He just knows things. Dresses you down, like he can see your soul’ Tim had shuddered at the thought. Martin, now under the piercing emerald gaze of his best friend’s boss, had very different thoughts about Jon dressing him down. He panicked at the thought, trying to quash it with all his might. He could swear he saw a flicker of a smile tug at the corner of Jon’s mouth.
“I uhm… I don’t have a lot of experience per say, but I did work at a library in uni before-” Jon waved off the explanation, and leaned back in this chair.
“Yes, yes I read your CV. I am more interested in the why .”
“S-sorry?”
“ Why did you apply to work at the Magnus Institute? ” There was a shift in Jon’s voice. It wasn’t severe, or threatening, but insistent.
“W-well… When I was twelve, my mother gave me a book for my birthday. It was one of the few gifts she ever gave me growing up… Not that, not that she was a bad mom, she just had a rough time raising me on her own. It was a lot, I think.
"Anyway, it was supposed to be a poetry compilation. I- I like poetry. So of course I was beyond excited to not only get a gift, but one that gave a hint that she knew my interests… But there was… Well, there was something wrong about it. Each page was a different font, a different material. Some were thick, like parchment, others were so thin you’d think they’d tear by breathing too hard. I flipped through, but couldn’t get myself to actually read any of them.
"So I set the book aside, and forgot about it. It was easy, like… Well, like the book wanted me to forget about it. It sat on my shelf for years, completely forgotten. Until… Until I got to uni. I was unpacking in my dorm, and there it was. I put it on the shelf, and forgot about it again.
"Then… I got my first b-boyfriend. He came to my flat, and everytime he would just stare at that book on my shelf. After a few visits he finally asked if he could see it. I didn’t want him to, but he looked so desperate and I really, really wanted him to like me, so I said yes. He opened the book, and started to read. The details… they’re fuzzy. It was like the entire room shifted around him, around that damn book . H-he screamed. And there was this awful sound, like tearing paper and breaking bone. And then… he was gone.
"The book was back on the shelf, and Michael was just… gone. No one remembered him, not at first. I wandered through the next few weeks on autopilot, asking everyone who knew him if they’d seen him and… no one knew who he was. It was chance, really, that I met Tim. He was after this coworker of mine for a bit, and one day he asked where my boyfriend was. The look on my face must of said everything, because before I knew it we were in a pub and I was breaking down and Tim… well he believed me.”
Martin took a shaky breath, finally noticing the wet, hot tears rolling down his face. He was too stunned to react at first, looking down at his tear spotted jumper. Then he realised what he’d done. He’d told his darkest secret to a man he’d just met. His hand flew to his mouth in horror, face burning. When he finally looked up to meet Jon’s eyes, there was something there, behind the cool facade. Not pity, or disbelief, but utter regret.
“I-I’m so sorry I don’t know why I said all that! Christ, now you must think-”
“Martin.” Jon’s voice was quiet, but it made his jaw snap shut. It was the first time Jon had used his first name. “It’s alright.” A softness had crept from Jon’s eyes to the rest of his face. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard to recount.”
Martin nodded wordlessly, trying to rub the last of the tears from his face. Jon stood up and walked around the large desk. He moved gracefully, reminding Martin of a panther with the way he moved. He wore neatly pressed black slacks, and a light grey dress-shirt with a gorgeous violet waistcoat. He pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to Martin. The small gesture sent his heart fluttering, and the brief brush of their hands sent a shiver down his spine. He accepted it, wringing it in his hands slightly. His tears had stopped, and the embarrassment made him wish for the floor to swallow him.
“When you’re ready, would you like to meet the rest of the team?”
“I’m s-sorry? The team?”
“Well yes, I think you’ll make a fine addition.”
Martin was speechless. Here, he’d just laid his heart out, cried, and somehow was still offered a job. While he hadn’t seen the pity, that must have been it, right? No way this calm, professional man offered him the job based on his pitiful CV. He hadn’t even lied on this one. Jon was waiting patiently for him to collect his thoughts, and when Martin realised he was waiting for a response, he rose awkwardly to his feet.
“Uhm. Yes. I’d like that. Please.” Jon nodded curtly, and walked toward his office door, gesturing for him to follow.
-
He tried not to crowd Jon as they made their way down to the Archives, but the hallways were narrow, and Martin did not want to get lost. Jon appeared to be keeping an easy pace, but for a small man he moved quickly enough that Martin found himself needing to use the full advantage of his long legs to keep up. As they walked, it struck Martin how much taller he really was. Sitting behind his desk, Jon had seemed impossibly imposing with the streaks of grey in his long hair that was pulled up neatly behind him and his half-moon glasses adding to the angular severity of his face. But now, walking a few steps behind him, Martin couldn’t help but notice how small he was. He was thin, maybe too thin, the tailored cut of his clothes accenting every angle. He was gorgeous, but Martin couldn’t help but wonder if he was eating enough.
They rounded the corner, finally reaching an arching doorway with the word ‘Archives’ etched in the marble above the frame. As soon as they entered, they were met with rows and rows of shelves, stacked with file boxes and loose papers. Jon led him through a few winding stacks, until the room suddenly opened to a bullpen of sorts, a cluster of desks in a sea of shelves. Three faces looked up to greet them. Martin was relieved to spot Tim’s grin, though it briefly flicked to concern, likely from Martin’s puffy eyes. Tim regained his composure near instantly, hopping up enthusiastically to greet him.
“Marto! Welcome to the Archives!” His eyes flickered to Jon, “Hey bossman!” Jon’s face soured,
“I’ve asked you not to call me that.” His eyes swept Tim’s dress, clearly noting the Hawaiian shirt and jeans, “And I do believe we’ve talked about the dress code.” Tim gave Martin a friendly pat on the back, completely ignoring Jon’s remark,
“Meet the team! That there is Sasha,” he pointed to a dark-haired woman with eyes nearly as sharp as Jon’s, who gave a warm smile, “And that tall drink of water there is Gerard!” He pointed to the far desk. The man gave Tim a fond glare,
“It’s Gerry .” Gerry was lean, but in a muscled sort of way, sporting a black t-shirt for a metal band Martin didn’t know, dyed black hair, and an assortment of piercings and jewellery. Martin had to take a breath. Was everyone in this blasted Institute attractive? Where Jon was crisp and fierce, Gerry was rough and wild. Even Tim, though Martin would never, was uncanny in his natural charm and appeal. It made Martin’s head spin a little. He felt very out of place, resisting the urge to hug himself in an attempt to hide his body.
“Well, have the team give you a tour, and if it is satisfactory to you, Rosie will have your paperwork at the front desk. You can start Monday.” Jon’s voice snapped Martin to attention, and when it was obvious he had heard, Jon nodded politely and left. Martin looked back to Tim helplessly,
“I guess I uh… got the job?”