Work Text:
It didn't surprise Elias that Jon was sick, per se, but it surprised him that he had called out because of it.
It was fairly predictable for him to have caught a cold after stalking Elias out in the rain that past weekend. Elias had done what he could, providing a change of clothes and a hot meal, but it unfortunately wasn't quite enough to offset the effect. Elias could tell from a look into Jon's flat that it was a rather nasty cold as well. The archivist was currently curled up on his couch coughing and sniffling.
Jon had come to work before in much worse condition, however. Elias had had to send him home with a fever multiple times, dating back to his days in the Research department, and he had always protested, insisting that he was perfectly well enough to keep working, even when he very obviously was not. It was distinctly unusual for him to call out sick over something like a cold.
Elias made an executive decision to check in on him at his flat. He had Jon's address on file, and the previous incident where Martin was held in his flat by Jane Prentiss set a precedent for such a thing. Jon had even received text messages allegedly from Martin during that time, much like the one Elias had received from Jon that morning. Elias could hardly be blamed for wanting to be sure his archivist was safe.
He could also check up on Jon remotely, and had been doing so throughout the day, but that was neither here nor there.
He ended up leaving early, around lunchtime. He didn't have any meetings later in the day, and decided the outing would be worth a bit of catching up tomorrow. He let Rosie know where he was going, and headed off.
He took a mental look through Jon's kitchen on his way there, finding it to be appallingly barren. Almost entirely pre-made and processed food, with little in the way of fruit or vegetables. He saw that he had potatoes, flour, butter, and milk, and decided to pick up some vegetables and broth for a creamy potato soup. He grabbed some honey too, for Jon's sore throat.
He parked his car outside of Jon's flat, and made his way up the stairs, paper grocery bag in hand. He knocked twice on the door, and waited. It cracked open after a few moments, Jon peering cautiously through the crack before seeing it was Elias and opening it more. He was wearing a ratty blue bathrobe over mismatched pyjamas, with fuzzy green socks.
"Elias?" His voice was low and raspy, his sore throat and congestion evident just from hearing it. "What are you-" He trailed off, eyeing the grocery bag.
"Hello, Jon." Elias smiled briefly, before letting a slight concern colour his expression. "I do hope I'm not intruding by being here, but… Well, you've never called out sick before, and with what happened to Martin a few months ago, I wanted to check in in person to make sure you were doing alright."
"I- Oh," Jon stammered, his face flushing slightly at the idea that Elias was concerned for him. "Uh, yes, I'm fine. I- Thank you, Elias. Um…" He looked at the grocery bag again.
"Ah." Elias shifted the bag under his arm. "I brought some vegetables and chicken broth," he said. Jon blinked at him. "I figured a good soup would help your recovery process along."
"I- Right. Thank you, Elias." Jon reached forward to take the bag, but faltered, ducking his face into his sleeve and coughing roughly for a few moments. "Sorry, I-" He cut himself off with another bout of coughs.
Elias slipped past him to put the groceries on the counter, and stepped back to put a hand on Jon's back as the archivist shook with the cough. It subsided after a few moments, and Jon sniffled, discreetly wiping his nose with his sleeve.
"Elias- I appreciate the visit, and the ingredients, but you really should be going, I don't-" Another small cough. "I don't want you to get sick."
"Don't worry about that, Jon," Elias dismissed. "I have a very strong immune system." One of the gifts their patron saw fit to give him.
"Well- Even so, I have some work I need to get back to," Jon muttered.
"Work?" Elias questioned. "Jon, you really should be resting, in your condition." He glanced back towards Jon's living room to see papers sprawled out across the coffee table in front of his couch.
"I- I didn't mean work work, just-"
"Jon." The tone stopped Jon in his tracks, and he looked up at Elias like he knew he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "Did you bring statements home from the Institute?"
"I- No. I mean-"
Elias strode away from Jon into his living room, seeing the papers strewn about more clearly. He'd been looking over several different cases, and had extensive notes scrawled on loose leaf pages surrounding them. Elias turned back towards Jon with a stern expression, and Jon looked back wide eyed, almost panicked.
"Jon, these statements are not supposed to leave Institute property."
"I- I'm sorry," Jon stammered, shrinking in on himself slightly. He cleared his throat quietly like he was suppressing another cough.
Elias sighed. As much as he appreciated being able to see Jon stricken with fear firsthand, he hadn't come to scold him. He took a moment to hold his gaze and drink in his anxiety, before turning back to the table and collecting the statements and notes. Jon watched silently as he did, anxiety not subsiding in the slightest.
Elias put each statement in its respective folder with its associated notes, and took the folders with him, as he walked back to the kitchen. He placed them beside the grocery bag on the counter, and turned back to Jon.
"Jon," he said, firmly. "You need rest to be able to recover. If you're so anxious to get back to work, you should be taking it easy."
Jon bit his lip, swallowing nervously. "I know, Elias, but there's just- There's so much to be done!" He sniffled loudly. "The archives are still a disaster, Gertrude's killer is still out there… There are so many mysteries and-"
"Jon…" Jon almost jumped when Elias put a gentle hand on his upper arm. He looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. "You aren't going to be of any help to anyone when you're too sick to function. You need to relax and conserve energy."
He held Jon's gaze for a long moment, watching his archivist's blush deepen, before slipping an arm behind his back to lead him to the living room couch. He ushered Jon to sit, which he hesitantly did. Elias put a blanket over him, which flustered Jon a bit, but he didn't complain or comment, simply continuing to blush and pulling the blanket around himself further.
"If you're comfortable with the idea, Jon, I'm going to fix you something to eat before I leave," Elias said. "Depending on what you have in your kitchen, I should be able to make you a hearty soup in about thirty minutes."
"Elias, you don't have to-" Jon cut himself off again with a hacking cough. "You don't have to do that, I'm really alright."
"I don't doubt that you can handle yourself, Jon." Elias placed a hand gently on Jon's shoulder. "I just want to make your life a little easier."
Jon's thoughts swirled with a mixture of emotions. He was hesitant to accept the offer, not wanting to impose on Elias any more than he already felt he had. He was hungry, and hadn't had enough energy to do more than fetch himself a granola bar all day. Part of him was in disbelief that Elias cared so much to go so far out of his way to do something like this. Part of him was simply focused on Elias's hand touching his shoulder, replaying scenes from Saturday night in his mind.
The medley left his face a lovely shade of red.
"I…" Jon started, sniffling after the first word. "If it's really no trouble, I suppose I wouldn't mind…" He cleared his throat. "…I would appreciate it."
Elias smiled. "It's no trouble at all."
He splayed his fingers on Jon's shoulder before removing his hand, feeling Jon's eyes on him as he walked to the kitchen, pausing in the foyer to slip off his jacket and shoes. Jon's gaze was getting so strong, even when he wasn't trying…
"Do you have potatoes?" Elias called behind him.
"Uh, yes, I should have some in the cupboard," Jon called back, raising his voice enough to send him into another coughing fit.
Elias sighed with dismay, opening the cupboard to pull out the sack of potatoes. He put it on the counter near the grocery bag before starting some water in Jon's kettle and taking it upon himself to sift through the cabinet where he knew Jon kept his teabags.
Jon hardly drank tea outside of work, not caring for it nearly as much as Martin would like him to, but it was a very effective remedy for a sore throat. Elias would've liked to make him peppermint tea, but decided the chamomile Jon had on hand would work well enough.
He poured hot water from the kettle into a mug that he knew was Jon's favourite, and let it steep while he started chopping vegetables. He made quick work of it, and threw the chopped potatoes, carrots, onions, and parsley into a pot he took straight from Jon's dishwasher. He added the broth to the mixture, and put it on the stove with a lid over it, just as the tea finished steeping. He added some of the honey he'd brought, stirring it in until it dissolved, and picked up the mug to bring out to Jon.
Jon didn't notice him coming at first, so Elias entered slowly, taking in the image in front of him.
Jon still had the blanket wrapped around him, and he had curled further in on himself, snuggling into it. He had taken off the bathrobe, presumably having thrown it across the room onto the chair over which it now sloppily hung. He was still sniffling every few seconds, occasionally grabbing a tissue from the coffee table. He seemed on edge, bouncing his leg under the blanket and playing with his sleeve, and a peek into his mind showed that Elias being out of sight somewhere in his flat was the source of the anxiety. The nerves about him being a suspect of Gertrude's murder seemed to have returned after the state of fluster at Elias checking in on him had worn off. Elias figured he could solve the problem of him being out of sight fairly immediately, and even if he couldn't entirely assuage Jon's worry that he was a killer, he could at least pull him back into that flustered state.
He purposely stepped on a creaky floorboard, making Jon turn to face him as he approached. "The soup isn't ready yet, but I made you some tea." He rounded the couch, handing the mug to Jon, who took it in both hands. "It should help with your throat."
"Th-Thank you." He blew on the tea for a moment before touching it to his lips, testing the temperature. He seemed to decide it was acceptable, and took a sip, wrinkling his nose slightly at the sweet taste.
"Is there sugar in this?" he asked.
"Honey," Elias replied. "It's good for a sore throat."
"Oh." Jon didn't like his tea with sweetener, but the rasp in his voice was already slightly less prominent. "I didn't even know I had honey…"
"I brought a small bottle with the vegetables."
Jon just stared at him for a moment, trying to process that Elias cared enough to have put so much thought into this. He went wide eyed as Elias patted him twice on the shoulder.
"Drink up. Don't let it get cold." Elias squeezed Jon's shoulder as he took another sip, before letting go and turning to round the couch again, but he slowed in his steps before fully leaving the room.
"Do you need anything, Jon?" he asked. "The soup has about twenty minutes left. I imagine it would be rather dull to sit here that whole time without anything to occupy yourself."
"Well…" Jon said, considering. "I could keep working on those statements, in the meantime-"
"Jon." Elias didn't overdo it with the stern tone, but with the reaction it drew out of Jon, he was quite tempted to.
"I- Right, sorry," he stammered, averting Elias's gaze. "I, um… I have a book on the architecture of churches that I've been working through… It's er, in my bedroom…"
"Right," Elias said, ignoring the flush on Jon's face at the thought of Elias seeing his bedroom. "I can grab it for you." He walked towards the hallway. "Which door?" he asked, despite already knowing.
"On the end, to the right." Elias heard coughing behind him as he entered the room.
It was interesting to be in Jon's bedroom in person, after only seeing it from afar for so long. It was messy, in an organised sort of way where Jon always knew where everything was. The bed was unmade, and there was a stack of books on the bedside table on topics related to various cases Jon had worked on in the last year or so. Elias stepped around the few items of clothing strewn on the floor towards the bedside table, and picked up the book on top of the pile. He almost turned and left, but something on the bed caught his eye.
There was a dark grey tee shirt stuffed halfway underneath Jon's pillow, that Elias immediately recognised as the one he had sent Jon home in two nights before. He had watched Jon on his way home that night, seen his archivist fall asleep in his clothes, but he (regrettably) hadn't been watching the following night. He couldn't look into the past, but evidence pointed to the idea that Jon may have fallen asleep last night holding his shirt. He allowed himself a pleased smirk before schooling his expression back into neutrality as he left the room.
"Is this the one?" He held up the book as he left the hallway.
"Yes," Jon said, reaching out to take it. "Thank you. I'm sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting company."
"It's no problem at all," Elias reassured, handing the book over. Jon held it close to his chest as he leaned back into the corner of the couch. "I'll be back with soup soon."
"Right," Jon replied. "Thank you, again."
Elias returned to the kitchen, and began to put together a béchamel. He melted butter in a pan, added some spices from Jon's cabinet, and mixed in the flour and milk. He took his time with it, watching Jon in the other room as he did.
Jon drank the tea Elias made him slowly, grimacing slightly at the taste with every sip. He had the book open, and was looking at the pages, but was clearly not focused on it. Elias suspected that it was partially the discomfort of his illness that was distracting him, but he continually glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. Elias watched him lick his lips absentmindedly, pressing them together as he glanced over his shoulder again. Elias guessed that meant he was thinking about their kiss. He chuckled to himself.
Eventually, the béchamel was smooth and creamy, and the vegetables were cooked to satisfaction. Elias turned off the stove and mashed up the potatoes in the pot, before mixing the béchamel into the soup. He poured some of it out into a bowl, and put the rest in a container for Jon to enjoy later, before sprinkling some parsley leaves over the soup in the bowl, as a garnish.
He stepped on the same creaky floorboard on the way into the living room, to let Jon know he was coming. The archivist turned to him quickly, eyes drawn to the bowl of soup. Jon put his book and nearly empty tea mug on the coffee table in front of him, and took the bowl of soup in both hands. Elias sat at the other end of the couch as Jon blew on a spoonful of the soup before simply staring at it, hesitantly. Elias suppressed a tired sigh at the realisation that Jon was worried about being poisoned again, but was pleasantly surprised when the archivist took a deep breath and sipped it from the spoon without reassurance. He let out a quiet moan at the taste.
"This is very good, Elias," he said, picking up another spoonful. "You're, er… You're a very good cook." His face heated slightly as he said it, thoughts of Saturday replaying in his mind once again.
Elias smiled. "Thank you, Jon."
Jon glanced over at him, making eye contact. He held it for a longer moment than Elias expected before jerking his gaze back down to his soup, quickly taking another bite.
Similarly to Saturday, Jon became engrossed in his meal, almost seeming to lose track of the fact that Elias was there at all. Elias picked up Jon's book to flip through, to avoid pushing his luck with making Jon uncomfortable with his staring, but still took the opportunity to subtly observe him as he ate.
Jon was beautiful like this. He was curled in on himself just as he'd been on Elias's couch, wrapped in his blanket like a protective cocoon as he held his soup close. His hair was a mess, like he hadn't even combed it after getting out of bed this morning. He was very vulnerable in his current state of unwellness; disorientated enough to be easy to manipulate, too tired and weak to properly fight back against a threat. Elias had no plans to take advantage beyond persuading him to accept a bit of caretaking, but it was truly a treat to see his archivist like this.
When Jon had reached the end of his bowl of soup, Elias took a deep breath placed the book back on the coffee table.
"If you don't mind me asking, Jon," he started, Jon turning his head to face him, "why did you call out of work today?"
Jon blinked at him. "Well, I'm quite sick, if you hadn't noticed," he deadpanned.
"I'm not challenging your decision," Elias clarified. "You absolutely made the right call staying home today. It's just…" He shifted, leaning forward in his seat. "You've always been quite determined to come into work no matter what your state of health was, in the past. I've had to make you go home multiple times, for illnesses worse than this. Not to mention that you were seemingly still planning on working on statements all day in your flat, before I got here." Jon opened his mouth to protest, but Elias raised a brow at him, and he closed it without comment, looking back down at his empty soup bowl. Elias shifted in his seat again. "I wanted to… apologise, if I've done anything to make you uncomfortable returning to work after this past weekend."
"What?" Jon blinked again.
"I may have allowed myself to get carried away-"
"No! No no no," Jon interrupted. "Elias you didn't- I- I'm sorry, that's not what I-" He stammered through his sentences, trying to find the words. "I wasn't uncomfortable the other night, when we- not in the slightest."
"I'm glad to hear that, Jon." Elias said, calmly, with a small smile. "I definitely got that impression at the time." He savoured the redness on Jon's face, as the archivist was determined not to flee from Elias's gaze. "But that doesn't change the fact that such… interactions outside the workplace, can create tension in a professional environment, and I hope that I haven't caused you to be in any way uncomfortable returning to work"
"I… Well…" Jon bit his lip. "I suppose avoidance was a consideration in my decision to call out today," Jon admitted, quietly, earning a solemn nod from Elias. "But that doesn't mean I didn't- I still, er, enjoyed the…" Jon's face was bright red as he tripped over his words trying to express what was running through his mind. He took a deep breath, letting out a cough at the end before clearing his throat.
"I… enjoyed what happened Saturday night," he didn't make eye contact with Elias as he said it, "and- and dangers aside, I enjoy my job as head archivist at the Institute. I… may have panicked a bit this morning, about returning to work, but I…" Jon looked up at Elias. "I don't want to give off the impression that I'm not okay with… With what happened."
Elias nodded again, holding eye contact. "That's good to hear, Jon. I meant what I said that evening about you being an asset to the Institute." He reached out to gently place a hand on Jon's knee. "I would hate for my own actions to reduce your comfort in being there." Jon's eyes were wide as Elias stroked a thumb on the side of his leg. "I know it's already been so hard for you, with everything that's happened."
Jon gave a small nod, breaking eye contact to look at Elias's hand on his knee.
"It, um… It definitely has, yes," he murmured.
Jon shifted his own hand, slowly moving it to slip it over Elias's on his knee. Elias kept stroking his knee, feeling Jon squeeze his hand as he did.
"Thank you, Elias…" Jon said, quietly, not resuming eye contact. "Thank you for coming, and cooking for me, and just… For everything." His face was flushed as he spoke, his hand twitching slightly over Elias's. Elias looked into his mind to see a pronounced yearning, longing to be closer, but unwilling to initiate.
He took it upon himself to close the gap, shifting closer on the couch and moving his hand from Jon's knee to behind his back. Jon melted into the contact, shifting closer himself until he was leaning into Elias, lying his head on his watcher's chest. Elias wrapped his other arm around Jon and threaded his fingers through his archivist's hair, scratching gently at his scalp. Jon let out a quiet moan at the sensation.
Jon's thoughts were simple in that moment, focused on sensations and abstract feelings. Warmth, connection, safety. Elias breathed a pleasant sigh into his archivist's hair. He was glad he got to have moments like this with Jon before his plans progressed. He hoped that Jon would continue to accept such things from him in the future, after learning what Elias was. What he was making Jon into.
"I'm going to do something for you next time…" Jon mumbled into Elias's chest. "Make you food…"
Elias chuckled at that, squeezing Jon a little tighter in his arms for a moment.
"Your work at the Institute is invaluable to me, Jon. You do more than enough."
Jon nuzzled closer at the praise, too close to sleep to fully process it. Elias relished the feeling of having Jon in his arms, listening closely to his mind as it transitioned out of consciousness. He continued to play with Jon's hair as he slowly drifted off, letting the sensation be a comforting presence to usher him into sleep.