Chapter Text
Jon wasn’t “stressed”. He wasn’t! He didn’t need to “relax and take a day off, for chirst’s sake”, thank you very much! No, he was just a little busy recently. That was all.
The worms were growing in numbers, he was sure. They were listening and waiting for the time to strike. But that was just in his head. He thinks. Probably.
Anyways, the worms were multiplying, and his work seemed to be doing the same. But he could handle it! He could, because he had to, it was his job. He was chosen for a reason for this position, and he was sure it was because of his flawless work ethic. No offense to Sasha, of course, she was lovely and would make a great archivist. Just, he was undeniably the one who worked the most of all of the archive staff.
And if his brain ever felt fuzzy and blurry from sitting for hours filling forms, he could always read a statement to wake himself up. Yes, he had a system, and it worked.
His assistants, though, couldn’t seem to get this through their heads. He had heard their talk about how he needed to “take a chill-pill” (tim), “have a self-care day” (sasha), or just that they were “concerned for him” (martin) in the break room.
Or to his face, in his own office. The audacity.
“No, Tim, for the last time, I will not join my assistants for drinks,”
“C’mon, boss, it’ll be fun! Besides, don’t you wanna leave this spooky building?” Tim wiggled his fingers on the word ‘spooky’, and Jon sighed, fighting the urge to drop his head against his desk and roll his eyes like some petulant teenager.
“Tim, I have work-” Jon was cut off by the sound of the archive’s door opening with an annoying creak that he’s really been meaning to talk to Elias about. He couldn’t see who it was, but Sasha and Martin were at their own desks, so it must have been someone who had had a rather unfortunate experience recently. “Now, there is a statement giver here, so if you would kindly let me take their state-”
“Jon! There’s a statement giver here for you!” called Sasha’s voice, with perfect timing. Tim rolled his eyes.
“Just…consider having a normal interaction for once, maybe get out of this office”, and he walked off to do probably anything but his work. Jon frowned, and followed him to the central area of the archives. It was where he usually met statement givers, to prevent them from entering the wrong door or bothering his assistants while they worked (or didn’t work, in some cases). That way, he could ensure that they got in and out with as little distraction as possible.
He walked into the main room, and froze as he saw the woman who had come to give her account of her interactions with the ‘supernatural’ (see: mental illness, sleep deprivation, or drugs).
She stared at him incredulously, meeting his eyes.
“Jonny?”
He blinked, just to be sure that this wasn’t a nightmare. He had had a few of those after falling asleep at his desk before, so it wouldn’t have been too shocking.
Tim and Sasha looked at the woman, then at Jon, then at each other. Martin looked shocked. He never thought he’d hear someone refer to his boss as ‘Jonny’.
“Wow, didn’t expect you to end up working in a dusty archive,” the woman said, smirking.
“A- Basira? You’re here to give a statement?!”
Honestly, Tim may have to give a statement about this himself. Statement of Tim Stoker, regarding his boss smiling and being called Jonny. Statement begins: WHAT THE FUCK.
“Last I heard, you died in a bar fight. How are you doing, you know, with your death?”
A- a bar fight, Tim mouthed to Sasha, eyes wide.
Died?!, Sasha mouthed back, almost laughing at the purely out-of-character action from Jon.
“You yourself seem to be doing pretty well, for being blown up,”
What the fuck, what the fuck. What. The. Fuck.
“Eh, it happens. Always looks worse than it is. Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed so formal,”
Jon suddenly broke eye contact, seemingly remembering his assistants at their desks, witnessing this whole interaction. They stared back at him with shock and confusion, and he avoided meeting their eyes, looking just below their stares.
“Why- what brings you here?” Jon tripped over the words a bit, but his voice returned to its normal tone.
The woman’s face lost the humor it had held, suddenly serious. “I’m here to make a statement,”
“Right- of course you are. Let’s talk in my office,”
The woman nodded and followed Jon to his office and out of sight of his bemused assistants, who stared at each other, wide-eyed and shocked.
“He- I- Wh- He has friends?!”
“Christ, Tim, don’t say it like that! Of course he has friends!”
“Hey, you’re just as shocked as me, don’t act like this is normal! Have either of you ever heard him mention anyone who doesn’t work in the archives? Or even anyone other than the people in this room and Elias?”
“I- well- No, but-” Martin stammered, unsure how to answer without being rude.
“See! He never does!”
“He has a point,” Sasha conceded, much to Tim’s delight. “He never does talk about anyone else. I don’t think he even has any pictures of people in his office, now that I think about it,” She recalled noticing this when she had given her statement about the weird Jack-Skellington-looking man.
“And what did she mean that he died in a bar fight?! I’m 76% sure he’s not a ghost, so what did she mean?”
“76 percent?” Martin mumbled, visibly confused.
“Maybe it’s an inside joke? They seemed close, did you hear what she called him? Nobody calls him ‘Jonny’!”
“Yeah! Deadass, I think I would get the Martin treatment if I called him that! I gotta ask her how to befriend him,” Tim joked (or maybe didn;t, Sasha couldn’t quite tell. Honestly, it would be pretty in character of him to actually ask her.)
Martin stared at his desk, seemingly going through the five stages of grief as he silently tried to wrap his head around the concept of Jon having a social life. No offense to the man, but Tim really was right about him never talking about anyone else. Martin couldn;t say that he had many calm conversations with Jon, but in the few he had had, Jon had just talked about his work, and once, a cat with a weird name that Martin couldn’t remember but felt like he should.
“You better get back to work, Tim, or you’ll definitely get the ‘Martin treatment’, he really needs to be nicer to you, Martin,” Sasha’s voice fell to a mutter under her breath with the last words that she said, but Martins till heard them and had to fight the urge to defend Jon, because yes, he knew that, obviously, but he had made peace with it.
Tim complained about Sasha being so mean (telling him to do the job he gets paid to do), but went back to working. Or, probably working. He could have just been looking at memes on his work computer. Wouldn't be the first time.
Sasha sighed, but her smile gave away her true feelings. She turned back to the research she was doing for another statement that Jon seemed convinced was fake.
Martin threw his attention back to his work. He really didn’t need to prove Jon right with his supposed inability to get (quality) work done.
Meanwhile, in his office, Jon sat with Basira across from him, horrified that he had acted like that (read: a normal person) in front of his assistants! What if they didn’t take him seriously! (He could almost hear Georgie scolding him for his supposed ‘lack of social skills that he makes up for with professionalism’. Which definitely wasn’t real!)
“Jonny, you look like you’re having an aneurysm. Care to share some thoughts?”
Jon groaned, dropping his head to his wooden desk with a soft thunk. Basira looked down at him, and he couldn;t tell whether she was sympathizing with him or judging him. Probably the latter.
“They’ll never take me seriously, Basira. Never! Oh my god, why did I do that…”
Now he was certain Basira was judging him.
“Do what? You mean smile?” she teased, “I get the sense you don;t do that much here,” she thought back to the face of the three employees in the bullpen, the utter shock when Jon had made a joke. Jesus Chirst, Jonny, why are you like this?
“Act like an idiot! They’ll never forget this, and then Tim will blackmail me into going to drinks with them-”
“And is that so bad, Jonny? I mean, seriously, why don;t you want them to see you as a normal, y’know, human? With friends? God forbid you have an inside joke or two…”
Jon spluttered at her comments. “W-well, they need to respect me! As their boss, it’s my job to be professional, so they will also be professional and we can have a well-functioning, efficient workplace!”
“Jonny, one of your employees was playing Uno online when I walked in,” Basira deadpanned, and Jon hated that he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
“Well- whatever! You’re not here to talk. You said you had to make a statement?” The two quickly sobered up.
“Yes. Yeah, unfortunately. But, really, we will be talking about this after you’re done recording. And don’t try to fight it!”
Jon sighed, but accepted his fate, and reached for a tape recorder.
-----------------------------------------------------------------(%)------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tim debated going into his boss' office. On the one hand, he hadn’t been watching, and had no idea whether or not the woman (Jon’s friend?) had left. But on the other hand, he didn’t hear any talking, and you had to talk fairly loudly for a statement. Certainly loudly enough that you could be heard through the admittedly not great muffling of the doors.
He decided to take the chance, pushing open the door (he conveniently forgot to knock. Oh well. At least he might hear something interesting.) and shedding light over the dark, dusty office. Jon should really get better lights, or a lamp, or something. Fucking mothman or some shit.
“So, Jon, I know you said no to drinks, but hear me out: wouldn’t it be funny to see a drunk Mart-”
“For the last time, no! And actually the last time this time, Tim,”
Tim hadn’t noticed the woman still in the still quite dark office until she spoke up, “Are you saying that because you don’t want to go, or are you doing the thing,” The words seemed like a question, but Tim got the feeling it wasn’t.
“I don’t do a thing! I just…do not wish to attend to drinks,”
The woman gave Jon a disbelieving look.
Tim started to walk off, “Fine, but next time-”
“Actually-” Basira interjected, ignoring a (childish, if Tim is to be honest [though Tim supposes that he himself may not have been the most mature person]) glare from Jon, “Jonny here will be joining you for drinks! In fact, he would love to go!”
“No, I would not! Please ignore my…acquaintance here, she doesn;t seem to understand that it’s not her decision.,”
Basira rolled her eyes, “And my ‘acquaintance’” she mocked his earlier wording, “doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not his choice.” She and Jon had talked and he had clearly wanted to go, but he seemed so damn concerned about being respected. Like his voice alone didn’t make him intimidating (although, his height…maybe not.”.
“Anyways,” she looked at Tim, who looked confused at the discussion between her and Jon, “Give me the name of the place. I’ll make sure this bastard gets there on time,”
“I- alright, I guess, that's one way to make him go! So, whatever works, works for me!” he scribbled something down on a piece of paper lying around, much to the protests of Jon, “Here’s the place and time, don’t be late,” he winked, handing Basira the paper with the name and address of the place and leaving, shutting the room back into darkness.
“Well, he’s certainly has character,”
Jon tried to grab the paper, to get rid of it. Basira held it out of his grasp, deliberately just above what he could reach. Damn, she knew him too well.