Work Text:
Jon has a migraine. He used to get them all the time in uni when he overworked himself. He had gotten better about not pushing himself too far over the years, but with his new job as Head Archivist, he’s been working some very late nights.
Jon sighs and puts down the statement he’s working on. He takes his glasses off and screws his eyes shut for a moment as a wave of nausea rolls over him. There’s no way he can work in this state, so he opens his desk drawer to grab the bottle of ibuprofen he keeps there. The bottle is light and unfortunately, empty.
“Wonderful, just what I needed today.” Jon mutters to himself. There ought to be some in the first aid kit in the break room, so he gets up and makes his way over. He pulls the first aid kit off the wall and opens it. Another disappointment; it only has acetaminophen. Acetaminophen has never done much for Jon; he learned that very quickly.
He turns the bottle over to read the directions. How many pills can he safely take, he wonders. Perhaps, Jon thinks, if he can take four or five of them, his migraine can at the very least subside enough to get some work done.
“Oh! Hi Jon!” Jon startles and turns to find Martin standing in the doorway, clearly surprised to see Jon in the break room.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” Martin’s eyes flick to the bottle in Jon’s hands and then back at Jon.
“Right, don’t mind me.” Jon turns to grab a glass from the cabinet, intending to take the acetaminophen in his hands.
“Oh, wait!” Jon turns back around and raises an eyebrow at Martin.
“I just- uh, I noticed that in the past, you’d taken ibuprofen. And well, I have some. At my desk. If you want it.” Jon blinks. Once. Twice. Right, he should say something.
“Ah, yes. Well, Ibuprofen would be preferable.”
“Right, yes, I’ll go get it then.” And with that, Martin disappears from the break room. He returns a few moments later with the ibuprofen. Jon takes the bottle, shakes a few out onto his hand, and hands it back.
“Right, well, thank you. Carry on.” Jon doesn’t wait for a response before walking back to his office at a brisk pace. He shuts the door and sinks back into his chair. He swallows the pills dry, thinking back at what Martin had said.
Without him realizing, he’d been perceived by Martin in a way he’d never been perceived before. It leaves his with a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he doesn’t quite understand.