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Jonathan Sims never much cared for Christmas. Not once had he bothered to celebrate the stupid holiday. He thought it a waste of time and money. So when the holiday came through the institute like a blizzard, Jon was in a horrible mood.
He had hoped that his first Christmas spent in the archives would be a saving grace. A way to avoid all the hubbub in the more populated areas of the institute. However, he had forgotten a key detail. Jon works with Timothy Stoker.
“Heyo boss where do you reckon I can fit this tree I got for the archives?” Tim asked poking his head through Jon’s office door without a knock.
“You did what?” Jon grouched angrily.
“Well ok so Sasha bought the tree and Martin help us carry it since the both of us couldn’t walk it here after we bought it- but it was my idea! And so what if it’s a little big it just makes it more festive.”
Jon cut past Tim still loitering in the doorway and into the break room. Standing in the centre of the room was a Christmas tree so tall it scraped against the roof. Martin was holding up the tree to prevent it falling onto Sasha. Jon had had enough.
“We have no room for this!” He reasoned trying not to raise his voice.
“Yea in hindsight this was a bad idea,” Sasha admitted, “but we’ve gotta put it somewhere.”
“Or you could throw. It. Out.”
“What! But boss-“ Tim started.
“No! Look I’ve put up with the tinsel and snowflake cut outs-“
“Oh yea that was a fun lunch break,” added not taking Jon’s scorn seriously.
“You’ve all ignored my disproval of the Christmas music-“
“Hey look we got Tim to stop singing along that’s a real Christmas miracle,” Sasha defended.
“And the only reason I’ve said yes to the fairy lights was so Martin didn’t have to walk around in the dark while he’s been staying in the archives-“
“Wait- really?” Martin asked with a curious look on his face and a small blush.
“And still!” Jon continued beginning to loose control of his volume, “You persist with these silly Christmas rituals while we still have so much work to do. Gertrude’s back log has us chin deep in statements and we haven’t nearly enough hands nor competence to keep this up!”
There was a long silence in the room. Martin had subtly found a way to balance the tree so that he can let go of it without it toppling on Sasha. Tim sighed and broke the silence.
“Look boss, I know you can be pretty grinchy about Christmas. And I get you’re stressed about the work-“
“It’s hardly that,” Jon denied.
“But- Christmas is meant to be a relief from all that. Just cause this stupid institute makes us work on Christmas Eve doesn’t mean we can’t be a bit festive.”
“Today is a half day for you all anyway so I don’t what there is to complain about,” Jon huffed.
“Well you do too right?” Martin huffed in an attempt at humour.
Jon didn’t answer that.
“Oh c’mon boss you surely aren’t working overtime on Christmas Eve!”
“It’s not overtime Tim,” Jon argued, “the next two days are the same as any other week day. I’ll work the same hours.”
The same work hours for him had just happened to be overtime. From the small scowl Martin was giving Jon he probably knew this very well.
Martin had never flat out asked Jon about why he happened to have had a cot in the archives, but after running into him more than once at rather embarrassing hours in the night, Martin has surely realised. Even without saying Jon knows that his assistant very much disproves of his less than healthy work life balance. The audacity to judge him ticks Jon off beyond comprehension.
“Jon that’s…” Tim trailed off.
“Oh humbug,” Jon scoffed, “it’s not like the institute will be empty, you’ll all be back for that blasted Christmas dinner party Elias hosts each year tomorrow night.”
“Well, suppose we’ll just have to try and drag you out of your office when the time comes around,” Sasha decided.
Sasha is the most qualified person in the archives. She’s the most competent of Jon’s assistants and holds a certain power over her peers that he does not. Despite that, she is not exempt from the colourful distraction that is Christmas.
“Make sure that tree is somewhere out of the way, or better yet, out of my archives,” Jon grumbled on his way back to his office.
Time passed as Jon recorded yet another statement to his computer. Luckily not one of the duds, he simply did not have the energy for another tape recorded statement. They’re far too much of a hassle.
As the nights got colder and colder in the London winter Jon became more and more glad of his rather forgetful habit of leaving behind his night cap and less formal cardigan. His usual night cap was a dull blue, but goddamit the Christmas special on this lovely green Christmas night cap had been a bit too inviting for Jon and he had picked it out. Darned capitalist holidays.
Jon was aware that by now it was already 11:45 and that he should be leaving. Martin had popped his head in to say a goodnight, once again very pointedly ignoring how late it had gotten. Jon had grabbed a handful of statements to take home with him to maybe just look over before bed- when he heard a knocking at the door.
And in came Mr Spider.
Jon scattered his papers across the desk, not caring for the many that flittered to the ground. He was in such shock that he had begun to think this was merely a dream brought on by another night falling asleep at his desk.
But then Mr Spider spoke. Twitching slowly into the archivists office.
“You shall be visited by three of our kind each night at midnight archivist.”
The spider then stopped, his beady eyes glaring expectantly at Jon. The sudden stillness of the monster gave him room to breathe no longer anticipating the breath to be his last.
“You- this is not real!” He decided, “I escaped you as a boy you greedy piece of filth!”
After a pause, Mr Spider spoke again, almost as if it had been waiting for a different response.
“You have three lessons to learn little Archivist. To be less of a greedy piece of filth yourself.”
“Excuse you! This is utterly ridiculous and I must be delirious- I didn’t eat any cheese did I-?”
“Our kind have large expectations of you Archivist. Some want to see you succeed others of our kind are much more entertained by your failure, but in the end it will be up to you.”
“What are you- stop saying that. Our kind? What do you mean to imply?”
“Remember to be polite, they’ve been asked to knock.”
And with that the spider crawled out the office door closing it behind him. Leaving Jon clutching his chest and desperately heaving for oxygen. He felt his knees collapse beneath him. Slowly the man shrunk beneath his desk hiding from the world above.
Jon doesn’t know how much longer he sat there, but once he did pull himself together enough to rise he saw the time on the clock. 11:59. He watched with anticipation as the hand clicked to 12. Then immediately ridiculed himself for the foolishness. Perhaps his assistants were right and he merely needed more sleep-
A knock at the door.
Mr Spider had said….
No. Absolutely not.
It was surely just Martin behind the door, probably checking to see if he had left yet. Yes of course, Martin was always snooping in Jon’s business to his constant annoyance. Thought Jon still hesitated before opening the door.
On the other side was a man Jon didn’t recognised.
They simply stared at each other for a moment while Jon tried to recover from his bafflement.
“The- the institute is long since closed sir and the archives are closed off to those without clearance-“
The tall blonde man merely burst into a loud and echoing laugh.
“Oh Archivist,” he sniffled, his smile growing slightly with each passing second, “I am exactly where I’m supposed to be! But are you?”
“Excuse you-“
“Ah bah bah! The mother of puppets wants me to take you on a little journey! And I am more than happy to comply. I shall take you through my hallways, but whether or not you’ll come out better or worse for wear is up to chance!”
The man began to- distort. And that when realisation dawned on Jon.
“Y-you’re Sasha’s Micheal aren’t you?”
“That is a real name.”
Micheal’s shape shifted around to create a movement that could be called a nod. Jon resisted to urge to flinch back.
“And you are who Mr Spider said would visit me.”
“I am not a who, archivist. I am a what. A who requires a degree of identity I can't ever attain.”
“So Michael isn't your real name?” Jon challenged.
There is no such thing as a real name.”
The entity chuckled at his own contrarianism. While Jon’s eyes drifted to his sharp and wondering fingers.
“Let’s get going then hm?” Micheal hummed.
The Micheal’s hands reached forwards as if to drag Jon into the hallways behind the distortion, but instead while Jon was stepping back, he was pushed into a door that was not behind him just a minute ago.
Travelling through the corridors of the distortion is an indescribable experience. But if Jon was to think of a singular word for the short eternity he experienced it would be ‘straining’. He could feel his mind and body being tugged at in infinite directions.
Finally he exited out the other side. Micheal was no longer the horrifying distortion he had revealed a minute ago, but now was once again merely a horrifying tall man. Which compared to Jon’s admittedly short stature was almost equally as startling… not quite tho.
“Do you remember this Archivist?” Micheal asked, no smile on his face.
This startled Jon to finally take in his surroundings. They were no longer in the archives, but in a damp little suburb. Jon recognised the house across the street as his grandmothers home. His home growing up.
“Did you celebrate Christmas as a child Archivist?”
“Not really,” Jon admitted, his focus on the warm lights inside the house.
A small boy rushed across the wet pavement. He slipped and fell letting out an annoyed grunt. But he quickly picked himself up and ran up into Jon’s grandmothers house. The archivist then realised that the boy was him.
“This is- time travel?” Jon scoffed at the idea.
Micheal scowled, “No Archivist. This exists always, since it happened. You cannot unmake existence despite how many of us have tried so hard to do.”
The answer made no sense to Jon, but before he could ask more (and perhaps complain some more) Micheal was crossing the road. Jon followed him to the side of the house and they both looked through the window.
“Tell me about this Archivist, what is this Christmas to you?”
“Nothing,” he answered quickly, “My grandmother was never the festive type and neither was I. Other children annoyed me and I annoyed them so there wasn’t anyone to celebrate with. My grandmother was the lest religious woman you’d ever meet. Besides even if my grandmother celebrated she wouldn’t bother spending money on decor and least of all presents. Now that I am an adult I hardly blame her.”
“Did you blame her then?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“It is very easy to blame someone for something Archivist. So easy, that often people are blamed for things that they did not do, or have no correlation to. So it would be very easy for you to blame your grandmother for not celebrating Christmas with you,” Micheal shrugged with his sharp shoulders.
“Well she wasn’t at fault for it. My parents died one after the other when I was very young. She hardly liked raising her own children let alone me. We didn’t hate each other but we had an understanding.“
“What a gift.”
“I just said we didn’t do gi-“
“To be understood,” Micheal cleared up, “What a gift to be understood.”
Jon felt a sharp tug in his chest. Instead of responding to that sap, he just scoffed and hugged his cardigan to his chest.
“She did give me one Christmas gift,” Jon began, “a pair of reindeer slippers. She only got them because I hated wearing socks and she refused to have me wear shoes in the house. So she bought me those slippers. I kept using them year round and even took them with me to uni since they were so large. But they got ruined halfway into my first year after Georgie’s several failed attempts to wash them.”
Micheal gave him a blank and thoughtful face. His expressions as a normal person were almost as unsettling at his distorted form… once again, almost.
“I think I know our next stop.”
And there was that damn smile, creeping so drastically high that it stretched off his face. And Jon was back in the hallways. That same horrible pain shot through his being until he was spat out in a place he immediately recognised.
His old uni flat he shared with Georgie is a place of deeper nostalgia than his old childhood home ever could give. Jon didn’t often reminisce on childhood, but every now and then he’d find his mind wondering back to memories of his time at university.
In the living room sounds of Christmas cheer sounded, meaning only one thing. This was the year Georgie hosted Christmas. Jon would say Georgie and himself, but he did non of the planning and had a mediocre time at best. People were never his thing, and while none of his friend group disliked him, Jon was fairly sure very phew of them liked him.
Micheal walked right into the centre of the room with Jon trailing behind to get a better view of the gathering. Jon was in his armchair with Georgie sitting on the armrest. Jon was often glued to her side during there relationship.
“Now tell me about this Christmas Archivist.”
“This is when Georgie replaced the slippers. Got the same exact ones and everything. She had felt horrible for ruining them in the wash. I had told her it was for the better as in hindsight it was rather silly of me to wear reindeer slippers all year round. But Georgie found it so funny that she bought me the exact same pair.”
“That’s rather thoughtful of her.”
“She was always very thoughtful. Not just to me but to everyone. It was a nice Christmas, even if I felt more like a fly on the wall than anything else. Perhaps that’s why I enjoyed more than any other Christmas.”
“Do you miss it?”
“University? Well I surely don’t miss the early morning lectures-“
“No. The company.”
“I don’t,” Jon spat
Then he took a moment to survey the room once more, his eyes ending up on the small smile his younger self was failing to hide.
“I don’t,” he reiterated, “I much prefer to be busy than to be social. It’s draining.”
“Work is draining too isn’t it? That’s why you like it so much?”
Jon simply glared at Micheal for the accusation. What he was saying was true. But it was different! Jon was good at the work he did. He wasn’t good at dealing with other people. After being well aware of this his entire life, he’s not about to make a fool of himself and risk his career.
Micheal frowned but in a blink it distorted to a smile.
“One more stop then.”
Back in the hallways it was then. But just as Jon began to approach the door he can already see what’s on the other side. Him and Georgie arguing, the very argument that led to their break up.
In an attempt to avoid the door Jon veered to the left down a different hallway, reaching for a door that would take him back home to the archives. He finds his office door hidden amongst a set of wacky mirrors. Before Jon can reach the door he’s forced to face a multitude of reflections. Each one a different version of him from each of his past Christmas’s.
Then he makes it through the door and back into his office.
“Oh Archivist,” Micheal sighed, “You’ve cut our fun short.”
“I. Don’t. Care,” Jon glared.
“You know I really hate you,” Micheal admits, “In fact it’s more than that. I blame you. I blame you for something your predecessor did. Your past shapes your future little Archivist. But I also know, just as well as all of our kind knows, that change is always possible.”
“Predecessor? You mean Gertrude Robinson? What does she have to do with this?”
“Ah Archivist, your ignorance is so refreshing. But even I can admit you’re more clever than you look.” Micheal sighed. “Oh and it would have been so fun to see you fail, but I think you have a chance! Perhaps that uncertainty will make this all worthwhile for me.”
“What do you mean?” Jon tried to push.
“Toodiloo!!!”
And with a laugh and a slam of the door he was gone. Looking down at his feet Jon saw that instead of his usual work shoes he was wearing his slippers. How ridiculous. Gosh with all this noise Martin might wake up it is after all-
11:58pm.
That. That couldn’t have taken up a whole day could it? Jon didn’t know how long he was in the hallways for, but to miss an entire twenty four hours?
The clock struck twelve once again. And once again there was a knock on the Archivist’s office door.
Jon still believed this was a dream. In fact he knew it had to be. That all was far too odd and supernatural to be real. He supposed the only way to wake up was to continue on with the dream.
He answered the door.
And there stood a woman. Or, not a woman. A mannequin. But the second Jon made eye contact with its empty sockets the mannequin burst to life. With a quick little dance.
“Who- what- are you?” Jon tried.
“Why I’m good Ol’ Saint Nik-“ the mannequin paused, “kola! Get it? Like the Santa lad you watchers are so fond of!”
“I- what?”
“Oh you silly little Archivist! I’m here to tell you about Christmas! As a favour to the mother of puppets! How special is that hm?”
“That name again- who is-?”
“Oh I can’t give you any spoilers! No no no that just won’t do.”
“So, what? You’ll drag me through some hallways like Micheal did?”
“Me and that distortion are nothing alike! I’m fair more fun Archivist! You on the other hand are the most boring one of our kind that I’ve ever had the misfortune of not knowing!”
Jon just stared. Utterly lost for words. He’s never touching cheese again a day in his life. Late night pizza be damned.
“Now come along silly. Let’s go find out what your co-workers are up to this Christmas night!”
“Absolutely not-“ Jon tried to protest but the- thing- had already grabbed him by the arm and was pulling him through the institute.
“Now we don’t have to worry about your Elias watching us, the mother of puppets likes to keep our types seperate most of the time. Can’t have him knowing the unknown you know!”
Jon did not know. By now he had given up on entertaining these creatures. He would much like to get all this fuss over with so he could wake back up and get to work.
Nikola had dragged him into the foyer of the institute. Food was places along the reception desk and cute furniture was all pulled out. The entire room was decorated extremely well thanks to the institutes endless pockets.
“Ah look! There’s your little assistants over there!”
Nikola dragged Jon over to the corner where she was correct in her observation that all three of Jon’s assistants were situated. Each of them had cups of what appeared to be alcohol from the bottle Tim had next to him on the floor. Tim was refilling, while Sasha sipped quietly, meanwhile Martin had his cup empty and discarded to the side.
“All right all right my turn!” Tim grinned, implying that the three of them had been in the midst of some sort of game.
“Are you an animal?” Sasha asked
“Oh I’m a grouchy beast!” Tim chuckled.
“Oh don’t be like that Tim all animals have a place in the ecosystem,” Martin scolded, “But- you’re not an endangered species are you?”
Jon scoffed at Martin’s care for literally any living thing on earth. Other than maybe worms considering recent events…
“Oh I’m one of a kind!”
“Oh I see where this is going,” Sasha giggled, “Is this a person?”
“Right as always my darling Sasha!”
“Ok well that’s hardly fair,” Martin sighed, “But, is this someone we know?”
“We are one of the lucky phew in the world who have the utmost pleasure to interact with him!”
“You just gave away the gender!” Martin pointed out.
“That’s quite alright Martin, I think I have this figured out,” Sasha consoled, “Is this person who some would call the local workaholic?”
“That’s not gossip that’s gospel,” Tim nodded.
“And are they also the institutes personal grinch when it comes to all things Christmas?”
“You bet!”
“And an honestly awful boss to put up with-“
Martin gasped, bust still smiled, “you’re not talking about Jon are you?”
“Bingo!!! And that’s a point to Martin,” Tim applauded.
“Dang it Martin I had that one!”
“Sorry sorry! You just caught me off guard with that we can’t be talking about our boss like that!” Martin giggled.
“It’s true though innit?” Tim smirked, “Pass me your cup winner gets a refill!”
Martin didn’t deny Tim, instead handing over his cup to be topped up with whatever Tim had brung to the party. Jon would be lying if he didn’t find himself drifting his focus back to Martin, with his cheeks slightly flushed, and smile on display for everyone around him. Jon not included.
Martin was kind. Although his bumbling tended to make Jon’s sour moods worsen amongst the stress of his work, he could appreciate that Martin was a kind person. But Jon had never seen him with his guard down like this. He was always hunched and tense in the archives. Here he looked,,, nice.
“Would you look at this little watcher! Your assistants certainly have some opinions about him.”
Nikola’s comment snapped Jon back to the strange version of non reality he was experience and the mannequin with loose skin wrapped around it standing next to him.
“Um yes I suppose,” he coughed, “It’s to be expected with my, lack of friendliness.”
Still to have not even Martin of all people to back him stung just a little.
“Interesting,” Nikola drawled sounded pleased in the most unpleasant way possible.
Jon’s attention snapped back to the party when Martin let out a little yell and spilt his cup all over his Christmas sweater. Jon’s brows creased with concern.
“You alright Martin?” Sasha asked.
“S-sorry! I just um, thought I saw a worm! Haha! No big deal I’ll um- go get something to clean this mess up,” Martin bumbled then rushed off to do what he said.
“He’s been so on edge lately,” Sasha sighed sadly.
“Yea I mean this worm thing is really getting to him,” Tim nodded.
Nikola laughed an incredibly unsettling laugh.
“Oh the poor things have no clue!”
“No clue of- what?” Jon asked alarmed.
“Perhaps your little assistants’ stress has a reason hm? Even I can feel the squirming in the walls Archivist! I’m surprised you haven’t spotted it little watcher.”
“Tell me what you’re talking about, right now,” Jon threatened, “Is Martin in danger?”
Nikola just laughed again, “He isn’t the only one I’d be worried about Archivist! Now enough with your questions! The mother of puppets has asked me to help you meet the next one!”
“What?” Jon asked, becoming rather sick of not knowing what’s going on.
Despite the skin on the mannequins face being unable to move, Jon could’ve sworn she was smiling.
“Come now Archivist! It’s time for me to kill you!” She said with pure glee.
“WHAT-“ Jon began to yell before he heard a loud bang and everything went black.
In the void he heard a gentle ticking of a clock and twelve little bells. Yet another day had passed. And yet another entity would appear to Jon. He didn’t want to know what was going to terrorise him this time.
Then he heard a knock, coming from nowhere and everywhere.
Then a man walked out from the darkness and gradually came closer to where Jon was standing. He wore a long trench coat, was tall, black and careworn, with deep lines of worry etched into an otherwise handsome face.
“You’re not going to grow new limbs or perhaps steal any of mine are you?” Tiredly remarked.
The man chuckled, but not in the same eerie way the others did. His laughter filled the cold void with an announce of warmth and sincerity.
“Nah,” he shrugged, “But I will get about of here, the web wouldn’t want the Archivist dead for too long now would it?”
And just like that they were somewhere new. There was rubble all around them and the sky was dark with smoke. The place looked like a dystopia but it still felt like London.
“What is the web? M-Mr Spider? And Archivist? You’ve all called me that- why-?”
“Gosh you ask a lot of questions huh? Though I do suppose it’s in the job description huh?”
Jon just gave him a puzzled look waiting for an answer.
“The other two probably referred to the web as the mother of puppets.” Jon perked up remembering that they had indeed said that. “As for Mr Spider, he’s not the web he’s just a part of it. Just like you’re a part of that institute and I’m a part of Terminus.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Jon sighed, following behind the man’s slow pace.
“You will,” he comforted, “If I’m honest I’m surprised the web is letting you know so much so early, but the mother always has some kind of plan, all we can do is try not to get too tangled in its threading.”
Jon followed along in silence for another moment, not sure of what their destination was supposed to be. They stepped over the mass of rubble, with Jon watching his footing carefully.
“Who are you?” Jon asked.
“Well, I think you’d probably remember the name Antonio Blake, but you can call me Oliver Banks. Either or really, neither hold much meaning to me these days.”
“The statement left as a warning for Gertrude?”
“That’s the one.”
Jon had more questions for him but then Oliver came to an abrupt stop. He reached into the rubble and picked out a smashed up tape recorder.
Oliver sighed. “Usually this is much easier to explain with a grave. But with the way things are looking right now, you don’t even get that.”
“I- what!?”
“This is your final resting place Jon, your final meeting with The Coming End That Waits For All And Cannot Be Ignored. Is here.”
Jon stared wide eyed, surprised to find himself believing every word. He wasn’t even thinking of this all as a dream anymore. It made no sense to exist within his head. Not that it made much more sense to be reality- but deep down Jon has always known the supernatural in not as fictional as he would like to pretend.
“No grave?”
“Well do you have any loved ones to make you one?”
Jon wants to defend himself. Say that yes he knows people who would attend his funeral. But he couldn’t. Another sigh from Oliver.
“Look, the only reason why the web is letting me show you this- is because it can be avoided. They want it to be avoided. This destruction, this End. It can be deterred, but not destroyed. But you have to try Jon.”
“You called me Jon.”
“Archivist just felt kinda formal ya know?”
“Not at all.”
“You will.”
Then he was back.
Back in his office. The time was 5:30am. Well past midnight. It was over. Jon had done it, dealt with all three visitings. YES!!
But, he didn’t know what day it was.
Everything had been so confusing, it could be January by now and he would have missed it all!
Jon stepped out of his office to look around for any sign of help. Said help was found in the form of Martin Blackwood humming a Christmas carol in the break room boiling the kettle. The door shut behind Jon making Martin turn around.
“OhmygodJon!” Martin startled, “I didn’t know you were here! Did you sleep in your office aga-“
“What are you wearing?” Jon blurted out, then felt himself blush from embarrassment not meaning to have sounded rude.
“O-oh!” Martin smiled awkwardly, “It’s an ugly Christmas sweater. Cause- you know- it’s Christmas.”
Jon burst into a large smile that seemed to have caught Martin a little off guard. His face now shared the same flush Jon’s had. It was Christmas! The mother of puppets must have made it so it all happened in one night! Meaning everything that Oliver showed him could be avoided!
(And Jon could prove Tim wrong at the party tonight but that was besides the point)
“Merry Christmas Martin.”
“Oh! Um, Merry Christmas Jon!”
After an awkward pause that felt anything but awkward both went to speak at the same time.
“Um shall I make you a cup of tea-?” Martin began.
“I’m wearing Christmas slippers!” Jon yelled far too loud.
“Um what?”
“They’re- um, reindeer slippers.” Jon answered feeling increasingly flustered.
“Oh right I see that! They’re cute!” Martin smiled sweetly.
Jon flushed more, for, some reason.
“And a Christmas night cap.”
“You wear a night cap?” Martin quirked a curious eyebrow.
“Well- my regular one is uh, blue. This one is green. So it’s- it’s Christmas,” Jon tried and failed to recover any semblance of shame.
“Huh,” Martin said, his smile not wavering once, “You know that makes perfect sense for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean!” Jon said defensively.
“Just that, a night cap is rather old fashioned isn’t it?”
“It gets cold here at night!”
“Oh trust me I know,” Martin chuckled.
Jon then grew silent realising that the blanket that Martin has had in the archives mustn’t be very warm. And it’s freezing! Jon suddenly had an idea…
“Um,” Martin said rather stiffly, “How about that tea?”
“Yes that would be lovely Martin,” Jon said softly.
Martin’s eyebrows shot up at the dramatic shift in attitude. But after a long night of stressful paranormal encounters a cup of tea on Christmas morning sounded brilliant.
“In fact I’ll help you,” Jon decided, “It’s about time you told me how you make your tea so I can start having some at home.”
“I- Jon do you not know how to make tea?” Martin gasped.
“I do in theory! It’s just whenever I try it’s never like- like the way you make it,” Jon found himself admitting.
Martin’s flush went from subtle to… a lot less subtle.
The two spent the morning chatting idly over tea, with Martin teasing Jon quite a bit more than he was ever used to. But it was nice. Jon was feeling jolly for maybe the first time in his life.
“So,” Jon tried to interject casually, “You and the others will be at the Christmas party Elias is hosting at the institute right?”
“Oh yes! It’ll be nice to finally attend and actually know people well enough to enjoy it,” Martin shrugged, then realisation hit him, “Are- Jon are you thinking of going?”
“I mean, if that would be alright with you three-“
“Of course it would be! Tim is always talking about how he can never drag you along to the holiday events.”
“Good I’ll see you there,” Jon smiled as he got up from his chair.
“Oh, do you have somewhere to be?” Martin asked, clearly trying not to show disappointment.
“Oh I’ll be back shortly, just have to run some errands. There is still work to do of course.”
Martin huffed fondly, “Of course.”
“And some lovely company to return to,” Jon shrugged with a small smile.
Before very quickly rushing out of the archives. Perhaps the others would think his change of attitude was weird. Martin certainly would! Jon was just- just- he doesn’t even dare to name what that interaction just was! But despite his internal panic, Jon felt lighter after his morning chat with Martin.
He bought what he needed and took a quick shower back at his flat before arriving at the archives just after lunch with a bag of two sandwiches.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought us both some lunch?” Jon greeted Martin.
The two of them spent the rest of Christmas rather casually. Jon of course couldn’t help but give into the temptation of doing some work and ended up helping Martin with some of his reports.
Then the party came around.
“No way!” Tim called from across the foyer as he entered then made a bee-line for Jon and Martin, “Right on you Marto kidnapping the boss to rock up to the Christmas party!”
“I’ll have you know I came of my own volition Mr Stoker,” Jon huffed proudly.
“Bull shit,” said Sasha appearing behind Tim.
“No he’s telling the truth!” Martin defended Jon, making his chest stir up and his shoulders drop with relief.
“A-and!” Jon announced, “I bought the three of you gifts.”
“Aw boss,” Tim smiled, looking speciously teary, “You didn’t have to.”
“Oh but I think I did Tim,” Jon admitted, “We’ve all been stressed with work lately. It’s not fair on me to take it out on Christmas.”
Sasha gave Jon a look.
“And you all,” he amended.
“Well hallelujah,” Tim praised, “pass those gifts out Jonny boy!”
“Don’t push your luck,” Jon glared, but did as he said.
He handed Tim a colourful button up that was covered in tiny surfing and kayaking Santa’s. Sasha unwrapped a deluxe edition of a book she had mentioned the other week since Jon had spotted it in a bookstore.
Martin opened his present and found a heavy but soft washable duna. The large blanket was incredibly soft and was a dull blue.
“Are- are these those errands you went on about this morning?”
“Um maybe,” Jon nodded, “It’s just- talking about the sleeping cap made me think of how cold it gets in the archives at night and so I thought to get you a proper blanket for the time being.”
“Thank you Jon,” Martin said very sincerely.
“Yes thank you boss man!” Tim celebrated.
“If I ever catch you wear that shirt to work I’ll fire you right then and there.”
All four laughed at that, and then a fifth laugh joined.
“Merry Christmas Jonathan, it’s a surprise to see you here!” Elias greeted.
“Suppose I was just struck by the Christmas spirits,” Jon shrugged.
“Hmm, very well.”
And with that he left.
Leaving the rest of the archives crew to enjoy their Christmas night.
The fight was not nearly done, but Jon was now in the right direction for him and all his assistants to come out on top of it. Thanks to the Christmas spirit. And though the workaholic accusations never became Andy less true, everyone knew that Jon was a grumpy old boss, with a heart of gold, who knew how to keep Christmas well.
🎄