Work Text:
Click
Click
Click
“What are you doing down here?”
Jon shot his head up at the sound of Tim’s voice. Tim’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, blocking what little lighting was coming in. Jon lowered his stapler, pushing aside a stack of papers.
“Stapling?” He offered weakly. Tim came in, moving past Jon’s spot on the floor to riffle through the overflowing boxes lining the shelves. Jon warily watched as he made a mess of Jon’s organization.
“Sasha wants a tape recorder for some reason. I mentioned it as a joke, but if there's one thing she loves to ignore is my perfect humor.” Tim said.
“Is the computer recording not working?” Jon frowned, returning to organizing the statements in front of him. They were the same 7 statements he had started with hours ago, but he had been so caught up reading one of them that it now had 6 staples haphazardly splayed along the corner.
Tim turned back to him, holding an old tape recorder covered in a thick layer of dust. A small red light flickered on it. He smeared his hand across it, letting up a plume of dust.
“Really?” Jon said, coughing into his arm. The taste of age flooded his nose and mouth.
“Sorry. Didn’t think.” Tim said.
“Clearly.” Jon snorted, but he smiled slightly at Tim, patting the empty carpet beside him. Tim conceded.
“Why does this one have 8 staples?” Tim said, holding up another one of his statements.
Jon grabbed it out of Tim’s hand, flushing slightly. It was a stupid one, a ghost haunting that convinced a man to eat his own fingers. But it was written so eloquently that Jon had been pulled in for a good half an hour.
“How’s Sasha doing?”
“Mhm. I don’t think she ever expected to be promoted to Head Archivist? She said that she hadn’t planned on being here long, but my charm has convinced her to stay.” Tim said, winking at Jon before grabbing a statement that Jon hadn’t seen before and stapling it.
“I’m just glad it wasn’t me,” Jon said, shuddering, “Don’t you need to bring that back to her?” Jon picked up the tape recorder. It still had a tape inside, but when he pressed play he just got loads of static and the occasional undecipherable muttering.
Tim shrugged. “She was talking to Martin about knitting, she won’t miss me for a bit.” He stapled another statement. Click. Click.
Jon took the tape recorder, giving it a once-over. He had no idea when Tim had time to even notice the old tech in the backroom. He pressed a button and the red light flickered out. Tim and Sasha were tight as rope, and despite his rather unorthodox ways, Tim was excellent at getting the information she needed. And Martin was just…very nice. But still, Jon was happy to be left reading the statements, with his headphones in and a good cup of tea.
“Are you really ok just being in here all day?” Tim gestured with the stapler at the rows of shelves that spread out from Jon’s spot. “It seems a bit spooky.”
“I mean, it’s better than doing reconnaissance.” Jon said, making a face.
“True. You are the type to run the other direction.”
Jon frowned and rolled his eyes, looking back down at his paperwork.
“Jon, you haven’t entered the break room since the spider incident.” Tim chided, bumping shoulders with the shorter man.
“It was trying to lay eggs and then we would’ve had an infestation on our hands” Jon muttered, picking up the stapler.
“Yes, obviously that’s why you made me come kill it. Definitely not out of some sort of deep-seated childhood trauma involving spiders.” Tim grinned, ruffling Jon’s hair. It had grown out a bit, and was covering the tips of his ears.
Jon flinched and stapled aggressively into a statement about a worm woman. He wanted to get back to reading. But Tim was Tim and Sasha didn’t exactly…forbid them from reading the actual statements, but she wanted to be the first to see them.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean- really? Is there some childhood spider horror story?” Tim’s eyes widened, and he kept glancing at Jon, not nearly as secretive as he thought. Jon took a deep breath before smiling tightly back at his coworker.
“Alright, I’ll drop it, but I’ll get it out of you after a few rounds tonight, right?” Tim said.
“Right.” Jon said, the tight smile still glued to his face.
“Ok, well…I should be getting this back. Don’t stay too late, alright?” Tim said, rising off the floor.
Jon watched Tim depart, waiting for him to disappear before he hunched forward, his face in his hands. He liked them- really, he did, in his own odd way, but dealing with Tim was always confusing.