Work Text:
It was a quiet day in the Magnus Institute. A rare occurrence, to be sure (which was, quite frankly, ridiculous. She worked at an archiving job, for fuck’s sake). Sasha walked down the hallway to the breakroom. Jon was most likely holed up underneath a table recording statements because “it’s quieter”. Martin was most likely on his third litre of tea. Is it possible to overdose on tea? Sasha’d have to look into that just to be sure. For science.
She opened the door to the breakroom (that smelled faintly of burnt toast and bad decisions) and was greeted by the sight of her delightfully polite and distinguished coworker, Timothy Stoker.
Banging his head, repeatedly, on the table.
“Er - Tim, are you alright?” she asked cautiously. “Oh! Didn't mean to frighten you, sorry.” Tim had whipped his head up, startled. He tried to play it cool, all signature charm and silly crooked smile. But that's shockingly difficult to do when you have a bruise on your forehead that's vaguely shaped like a dick.
No - definitely shaped like a dick. Distinctly dick-shaped.
“Heyyyy Sash, fancy seeing you here,” he flashed his dumbass little grin that could charm the socks off anyone. If they weren’t distracted by the fucking dick-bruise. How the hell does that even happen?
“Tim, I work here,”
“That you do,”
“....What were you doing?”
Tim paused for a moment. Opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then shrugged. “Couldn't tell ya. I was just laying my head down, then banged it once by accident and just… kept going?”
Sasha snorted, grabbing herself a mug from the cupboard.
“Okay Tim, whatever you say. I’m gonna make myself a cuppa and you’re going to deal with this yourself,” she paused for a moment and looked at him, smirking. “How does it feel to have a dick-shaped bruise on your forehead?”
“Wha- it bruised?” Tim blinked. “And it's shaped like a dick?!”
“Yes Tim, banging your head repeatedly onto a shitty plastic table typically does bruise. And yes it is shaped like a dick. I don't know how you've managed that and I don't want to know,”
The kettle whistled as if laughing at Tim. You could physically feel it pointing and giggling like a cruel schoolchild. She poured herself some tragically mediocre English Breakfast and smiled cheekily.
“Well, enjoy your… head banging. See ya!”
“NO WAIT SASH YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE THI-”
She closed the door behind her and giggled, walking down the hall, sipping her tea. God, how she fucking loved this hopeless wreck of a man.