Chapter Text
“Jon? Would you, uh, like to… go out, for some, um, tea? Sometime? Soon? Tomorrow? After work?”
Jon, who was desperately trying to keep a hold of his stack of paperwork, startled in surprise as the large man stood in front of him. He had a meek expression on his face, brown eyes darting around, with a mop of blond-ish hair curling at the ends. He looked as if he was desperately trying to make himself look smaller than he was, and there were visible beads of sweat on his stubbled jaw. Basically, he looked like the exact person Jon would absolutely hate.
Which made complete sense as to why he would accept such an offer.
Martin Blackwood was an assistant librarian in the Magnus Institute, a chronic tea drinker, absolute ball of anxiety, and the nicest person Jon had ever met. Jon was the complete opposite of every one of those things (maybe aside from the anxiety) and it really was a wonder as to how they even became somewhat friends in the first place. It wasn't like Jon hated people for no reason; he just sucked at being a decent guy, which made everyone hate him, which in turn made him hate everyone. Martin, however, loves everyone. Or at least pretends to. Jon still doesn't know if he’s being genuine or not in his pursuit of friendship.
“Yes, sure, whatever, bye.” Jon said hurriedly. Now, this would seem cold, rude, and extremely impolite, and Jon's grandmother would definitely scold him plenty for it, but apparently, it wasn't for Martin, as his face immediately brightened with a flushed smile. Jon ran off before he could get caught up and waste any more time staring at Martin's glowing eyes. He had papers to print, and while the thought of looking into Martin's eyes was lovely, and definitely not gay whatsoever, the thought of doing some printing was lovelier, he told himself.
It was later as he was sitting at his desk did he realise what he had actually agreed to. He was going out with Martin, outside of work, to drink tea. Fun fact about Jon, he SUCKS at tea. His grandmother never allowed him any because of tannins or whatever, and he only drank coffee or energy drinks on the bucketload. Never in his life had he ever been taught the intricacies of drinking tea, let alone the proper procedures of it. He didn’t even know how to talk to people without someone else being there as a buffer, and having to worry about drinking tea properly like a regular person on top of all that seemed like a deep personal hell for Jon.
He thought of thunking his head against the table but thought better of it. He didn’t need his coworkers to see how bad of a mental breakdown he was going through. Besides, it’s no use worrying about it now when he has all of this work to catch up on. He pushed his anxious thoughts away and rescheduled it for late-night thinking; it wasn't like he needed sleep anyway. That’s what coffee is for. And work. He won’t make a fool of himself… probably.
He was so going to make a fool of himself.
Jonathan ‘Jon’ Sims was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, begging God to strike him down where he lay. What an absolute idiot he was, thinking that he could actually navigate a social situation by himself. There would be no Georgie for him to hide behind. He was fucked! Save him! Save me! He shouted in his mind. Save me, please! I can’t do this! It’s so over!
He could try and fake an emergency to get out of it… but no, there wasn’t anything he could fake. Injuries were a no-go because then he’d have to skip work, and it wasn't like he had anyone close enough to be so suddenly ill that he’d have to stay by their bedside for the time being. He was a shite liar, so he couldn’t lie about having somebody close to him suddenly getting sick either. Also, maybe, he just didn’t want to look at Martin’s face falling when he canceled. But he wasn’t going to admit that to himself.
So, in Jon’s mind, there were two ways to go about this: One, he goes not knowing what he’s doing at all and make a fool of himself, or two, he goes after studying how to be polite and cool about drinking tea, and while he might suffer through social interaction, he at least won’t act stupid. He was a twenty-five-year-old man, he could do this.
With this in mind, Jon brought out his busted old laptop and went searching. He went from Tumblr posts to Quora, but he couldn’t understand the UI. He needed something simpler, easier to read. Jon clicked on a website called wikiHow, the article being named: ‘How To Drink Tea Like a Professional Normal Person’. Perfect. Exactly what he was looking for.
Jon read through the article vehemently, absorbing every little detail he could; he even brought out the notebook at one point. He clicked through link after link, ‘How To Be Polite and Talk Nicely’, ‘How To Not Make a Fool of Yourself in Social Outings’, and ‘Three Easy Steps on Being Charismatic and Interesting’, to name a few. He learned a lot, underlining the most commonly suggested instructions, like ‘don’t make everything about yourself’ and ‘sit up straight with good posture’ and ‘always leave out a napkin on yourself in case you spill’. He’s gonna destroy this. He’s going to be so Normal and Polite and Good that Martin’s gonna be like ‘Wow! This guy is way too good for me! I better stop bothering him!’.
Feeling accomplished, Jon lay back down on his bed contentedly, looking forward to tomorrow for once in his life. He couldn’t wait to meet Martin and show how decent he can be. There’s absolutely no way he’ll make a fool of himself.
He was making such a giant fool of himself.
It’s actually over. Genuinely, really this time. There’s no going back, Martin probably already lost all respect for him. Someone end him, please. Even getting kidnapped by some killer clowns would be better than this.
Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood were currently on their outing. Jon, despite all of his studying and preplanning, was in absolute shambles. He sat up straight, back taut, his arms ready on his sides and not on the table just like how he was instructed to. He had 3 napkins laid out, one on his chest, another on his lap, and a third on the table. He wouldn’t be too worried if it wasn’t for Martin not doing the same. Dread built up in his gut, as he stayed silent to not make everything about himself. It was only polite, right? He thinks that was said somewhere in one of the articles, or was that something that he wasn’t meant to do? Martin wasn’t saying anything, so he had no clue.
They sat there awkwardly before Martin cleared his throat. “Ahem. Hi, how… How are you, Jon? You look nice today—I, I mean, you look nice every, every day! Haha! Yeah. Um.” He stuttered out, voice getting smaller after every word. Jon was trying his best to make complete eye contact; it shows that you have an interest in someone, that you’re really listening and paying attention. It didn’t feel like he was paying attention to Martin though, only to paying attention, if that makes sense? Like, he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying, only to… make it seem like he was paying attention? Which made him not pay attention, despite trying to pay attention, and he is paying attention, but on the wrong thing. Like, he was paying attention to seem like he’s paying attention to whatever Martin was saying, and oh God wait he just missed his cue to respond, fuck fuck fuck fuck.
After one too many beats of him just staring there, Jon finally spoke up. “Oh, yeah, hi. Martin. I’m… I’m doing so well. How are you? Today? Feeling well? How was your day? How is your mother doing?”—Wait is that too personal?—“What’s your favourite tea? I know you like tea, you always serve our coworkers tea so, I mean, I’m just assuming, serving tea doesn’t always mean that you like tea, I sure don’t. I mean. I like tea? I’ve never had tea before really.”—Fuck he was rambling too much about himself, he needed to divert the topic back to Martin, ‘Step number two, make sure to place as much focus on who you’re speaking to’ he’s got this, he’s remembered—“Anyway. I’m just saying that you seem like you like tea so I’m just assuming you do. Sorry if you’re actually a massive coffee drinker, haha.” Nailed it.
Silence lapsed again, and Jon kept staring into Martin’s face as it slowly became more mortified. It seemed like Jon successfully managed to make Martin realise how high level he really was, how amazing at social interaction he was. He’d done it, he just knows that Martin’s thinking ‘This guy is so amazingly good at being good! And normal! I just can't meet his high level! He is so amazing at social interaction!’ and getting embarrassed for even daring to try and out-socialise Jonathan Sims. Jon smiled triumphantly to himself, which seemed to make Martin even more mortified. Wonderful.
“I-I’m doing. Great. Great because you’re here!”—Fuck that was a good one—“I’m feeling fine, my day’s good, my, my mother, is doing. Good. How did you even know about her? I do like tea, haha, do you like tea? Totally fine if you don’t. Yep. I love people who don’t like tea—wait, no, not, not in that way, haha! I mean, it’s not like I, um, I’m not trying to—to imply, imply that I, like, lo.. love… you… No offence! Not like that either! I, find you. Really decent. A great guy, you’re great!” Wow, he’s really bad at this. Jon thought, properly tuning Martin out now. He was still rambling on. Thank God I wasn’t like that. I’m doing so much better than him, he’s making a way bigger fool of himself than I was.
“—Haha, anyway, we should—probably—get our drinks now. I’ll—I’ll go order—” That was when Jon finally snapped back into reality from his rushing thoughts, there was no way he was making Martin order.
“Wait, wait!” Jon got up suddenly from his seat, the napkin on his lap falling onto the floor. He mourned it for a split second before directing his full attention onto Martin, for real this time. “I’ll—I’ll go get the, the drinks. It’s only right for me to, you’re… You’re older than me? And, like, my senior. I think.” He read somewhere that doing tasks for your seniors like this is a sign of respect, and also just polite. “It’s, um, I insist, please, sit down. You may have invited me out, but I, uh… I want to do this.” There, that works. As Jon spoke, his voice gained more confidence, and Martin was forced to sit back down in his seat. He wasn’t just going to hand over the duty of ordering to Martin, that was totally impolite, and the entire point of his studying was to be polite. He’s not going to lose to Martin now, he’s in too deep.
Jon removed the napkin that was tucked into his dress shirt and hurried over to the countertops. However, once he looked at the menu, he saw how badly he screwed himself over. They had gone to one of those high-end places, like Starbucks or something, and the menu was filled with weird different types of coffee and teas that he had never seen before. He probably would have familiarised himself with them before in Uni, but back then Jon was too worried about not having enough time to cram for his exams. He always took black coffee with way too many shots of espresso, he may as well have just taken straight ground coffee beans with how bitter it was, but Jon had countered that with plenty of teaspoons of sugar to mask the taste. He had no clue what ‘Watermelon Foamy Whipped-Cream Deliciousness Extravaganza Frappe with Two Cherries and Another On Top’ was, and while there was a tugging in his mind to want to try it regardless (he always had a taste for sugar, but never allowed himself to indulge nowadays), it just didn’t seem like the normal and polite thing for a twenty-five-year-old academic man to do. Jon just went for the safe option and got two cups of black tea with cream and sugar packets.
Once he paid for the drinks, he went straight back to his seat, placing the tea and packets in front of Martin. He took one sip of his and grimaced at the strange bitterness. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he took a sip, but he wasn't expecting that. The tea was light, not heavy like the coffee he drinks, and smooth. It was nice, but he didn't like the bitterness. He battled with himself for a bit, trying to decide whether it would be appropriate to add any sugar or not. Eventually, he relented. He was trying to be nice, not torture himself, so he grabbed the sugar and opened the lid, pouring it in packet after packet, unaware of Martin’s utterly bewildered yet charmed face staring at his process. After the 7th packet, Jon took another sip and finally found it to be sufficient enough. Martin was horrified.
“How’s the tea?” Martin finally asked, his shocked expression warming into a more confused and concerned one. “Though, hah, you probably can't.. taste much of it with all of that sugar.”
Was that sass? Jon was surprised, he didn’t take for Martin being a bit rude at times. That wasn’t fair, he shouldn’t expect Martin to be completely nice and stuttery all the time, nice people can be rude, he guesses. Jon takes another sip of his drink, letting the tea, now syrupy with sugar, settle on his tongue before swallowing, making noise in contentment; Martin was now sweating, way more than he usually does, which is weird because this is 2012 England, and it’s not even that hot. “My tea’s just fine, thank you. How is yours? I didn't know how you took it, so I just went with black tea. Sorry.”
Martin shook his head, “No no, I-I like black tea. It used to be all we had back when I was younger, so I’ve gotten used to the taste. That was before I started working, though, and was able to afford oolong. I hate oolong.” Well, that was nice to know, Jon guesses. He made a point to never get Martin any oolong if he ever had the chance.
Wait, was that implying that they might hang out again soon? Jon’s heart immediately lurched at the idea, the thought of having to go out like this again might actually kill him, but while he was initially extremely uncomfortable with the idea, talking to Martin like this, like normal, felt… really nice actually. Huh. He was actually enjoying this.
“Mmm, well, you already know how I feel about tea. I don’t hate it, really, it’s just that my grandmother never let me have any, something about tannins.”
“Ah, When, when I was a kid, I used to get these major migraines. Had no clue why, really, and it-it was pretty bad. Like, head-pounding, couldn’t-get-any-work-done-bad. Had no clue why for the longest time, and it drove my mum mad when I complained about it…” He trails off, looking at Jon to see if he actually cares, which to Jon’s (and Martin’s) surprise, he actually does. Jon makes a slight motion with his head, urging him to continue.
“Um, well, I knew we couldn't afford me spending all our money on ibuprofen, so I started looking for the problem. Obviously, the problem was probably because of all of the stress I was going through, but it wasn’t like I could really… stop? Stressing out? So, I just. Ignored the possibility, because if it was stress, it wasn’t like I could actually do anything about it, you know?” Jon does know. “Anyway, anyway, I started looking at my diet, and after a bit, I found out why I was having such horrible headaches. It was the tea, for God’s sake! Back then, I’d drink, like, 5 cups in quick succession for every meal. Definitely not healthy.” That Jon didn't know. He guessed it would be the same as him drinking only coffee most days, which definitely wasn’t good either.
“So, I start researching why, thought it was caffeine or something. But apparently, tannins in tea and red wine can cause the enzyme thingies to, like, not give the brain enough starches? Like, tannins can bind together carbohydrates, which makes them insoluble and indigestible, which then makes it so the brain isn't able to produce serotonin, which makes people get migraines. I think. Maybe. I don't know.”
It’s not like Jon can fact-check, he blanked out all of his studies in Uni right as he graduated. He could barely remember anything from his subjects, so he’d have to take Martin’s word for it. He’d just look it up on Quora, or Tumblr, or Wikihow, or whatever. See, he can use the internet, he knows how to Google. He’s with the times, has an iPhone and everything. Wait, he forgot to respond again. “Cool.” Wow, such riveting conversation, Jon. Really following ‘Step number three, DON’T GIVE ONE WORD RESPONSES’. He had just ruined everything.
Martin could only chuckle at that, and Jon had the sudden urge to smash his head against the table. “Um. I mean, that’s cool. I like chemistry, studied a bit of it, haha. Ah. I’m, uh, I forgot practically everything, though.” This conversation is going nowhere, quick, he needs to save this. ‘Step-number-four, when conversations get dry and dire, say something about yourself’. He can say something about himself. He can do this. “One time when I was eight I almost got killed by a spider in a book.” FUCK, NOT THAT, ANYTHING BUT THAT.
“… ??” Martin looked at him with a stunned and confused expression. Why would he say that. What the hell was wrong with him.
“It was, um.” He can save this, he can save this, trust him. Jon can save this. “It was a kid’s book. Small little thing. When I was little I couldn’t sit still, and the only thing that could make me was by reading. So one day, my grandmother brought me the book, and I almost got killed by it. Haha. Uh.” He can’t do this. It’s legitimately over for him.
“I, I almost. Got killed by a spider once, haha. I got bit by one while I was taking it out of the house, apparently it was venomous. Wasn’t a great time. Had to go to hospital, haha. I still love them, though.” That had Jon flummoxed, how can anyone ever love spiders in any way?
“You, you like spiders?”
“Yeah! I like the big hairy ones, like those cute fluffy spiders, not daddy long legs or something. The spindly ones freak me out a little bit, but they’re not that bad.” Jon was convinced that Martin was actually evil, that he wasn’t genuine in his pursuit of friendship, that he was actually trying to get him almost-murdered by a giant spider in a door again, but this time it was to get him for-real-murdered. That he was a spider person.
“Are you a spider person.” Jon said, with a completely straight face.
“Yeah! I guess you could say that!” Martin replied, with a cheery expression on his face.
Oh my god, I’m having tea with a spider person, Jon thought to himself in panic. He needed to get out of there quickly.
“Wow, that’s so cool. Oh, oh would you look at the, um, the time! Yes, see the time! Oh wow, it’s getting really quite late! I need, to, uh. I need to, get back to my um. Paperwork! I need to do paperwork. Also, I need to go to the loo! I really need to go! Bye!” Jon got up and rushed out of there, taking the tea with him. The tea might’ve been poisoned, but, like, it was good tea. He paid money for it. He’s going to drink it.
Martin sat there, a pained look on his face, before dropping his head in his hands, deflating. Jon looked away, exiting the shop. He was taking that as a win. He managed to defeat a spider person in the war of conversation, and, as it turned out, he was the normal one there. He wasn’t some spiderling, he was an actual human. Take that, society. He’s the Normalest.