Chapter Text
“Yeah, they make like sea shanty kinda music? And they all have these cool steampunk outfits. I know that sounds like a weird combination, but I swear they’re so good.”
“Tim, I’m sorry, but that sounds terrible.” Sasha didn’t even look up, she just kept typing on her computer.
“Don’t knock it before you try it!” Tim replied, far too cheerful for the dreary morning, pressing play on his phone.
As the music started to play on his godawful phone speakers, the brisk rhythm filling the room, Martin came down the stairs into the archive. “Hm? What are you playing?” He set the manila folders that he was holding onto his desk and leaned against it, watching Tim with curiosity in his gaze.
“The Mechanisms! They’re this band that I got into recently, and they announced some concert dates near us, so I’m gonna go after work! What’d ya say, Marto? You wanna come with?”
“You’re going to a concert,” Sasha said, incredulously, “And you didn’t invite me?”
“You just said you thought their music was terrible!”
Martin sighed as they kept bickering. The music wasn’t good, but then again, that could have just been the horrendous speakers on Tim’s phone. “I don’t think I can make it. Jon wants me to follow up on this statement.”
“Aw, come on Marto! Don’t let Bossman stop you from having any fun!”
“I’d love to, really, Tim, but he’s been on my case for over a week now, and I don’t want to make him any more upset than he already is.”
“Fine. . .” Tim huffed, crossing his arms, “I guess I’ll just have to see this really awesome band by myself then . . .”
Neither Sasha nor Martin rose to the bait, both assistants already engrossed in their work for the day.
“Oh!” Tim cried, picking up his phone, “You guys gotta listen to this!” He hit play on High Noon Over Camelot. “This is my favorite album, you guys are gonna love it!”
“Tim, I love you,” Sasha exhaled, “But we really need to get our work done. Including you.”
“But how am I supposed to get any work done when I know I’m going to see The Mechanisms tonight!” he whined, spinning in his desk chair.
Sasha gave up on trying to convince Tim to do anything productive after that, and instead just let him talk about the band's lore. While the music didn’t suit Sasha’s tastes, she could appreciate the amount of work that must have gone into making a story this elaborate. And their outfits. Tim was at least right on that front, all the members looked fantastic.
—
Jon sighed and put his pen down. He really wished he could stay late, he desperately needed to reorganize Gertrude's atrocious archiving system, but he had promised Brian that he would come. He just hoped that Elias wouldn’t come down here and wonder why he was so behind.
When the alarm on his watch signaled that it was five o’clock, Jon reluctantly rose from his desk, wincing at the stiffness in his legs. He’d better make sure that wasn’t a problem on stage tonight.
Jon began to pack up at that point, shoving an extra statement in his bag so that he could hopefully research it when he got home. He needed to make up the missed time somehow. When he stepped out of his office at ten past five, he was surprised to see all three of his assistants still sitting at their desks, although he doubted that they were doing anything productive, given the laughter he heard from Tim and the animated conversation he was having with the other two.
He tuned out whatever nonsense they were talking about now and quickly walked out the door, eager to avoid any unnecessary contact with people. He slowed his walk as he made it to the tube to get to his apartment to drop off his work stuff and change before he met up with his bandmates. Hopefully, he would get some practice time in there, it had been a while since he sang or played, his new role as head archivist taking priority.
The tube ride to his apartment was uneventful, but it helped him go over the setlist for that night and run through the songs in his mind.
When he got home, he took Aspirin for the slight pain in his legs and the headache that had accumulated after staring at a paper in a dimly lit room for ten hours. Neither of those would help him for the concert tonight, and it was clear he needed his full focus. Jon dug out his Jonny D’Ville outfit and put it on as best he could in the short amount of time before he needed to meet up with everyone. (Why had he decided on so many belts again?)
He also decided to wait on putting on his distinctive makeup until he was with the others. He knew it was only going to get him more stares on the ride over, and his hands weren’t nearly steady enough to apply it nicely.
—
“What the hell? How is it six already? I swore it was 4:30 ten minutes ago!”
“Y’know what they say, Tim, time flies when you’re having fun!”
“Well, I’m gonna have way much more fun at the mechs concert! If you wanna come . . . I mean . . . I wouldn’t say no . . .” Tim raised his eyebrows and fluttered his eyelashes.
“‘Fraid I’m gonna have to miss it this time,” Sasha said, still focused on her work, typing at lightning speed.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll just text you about it. And send you pictures.” Tim sighed, walking out of the archives by himself, as Martin had left slightly after their work day was officially over.
Tim rushed to the tube, even though it came every fifteen minutes, he wanted to get back to his apartment as soon as possible so that he could get ready for the concert, since he had left much later than he’d expected.
He quickly threw on a comfy, but decent looking shirt, and kept his black jeans, since they were pretty versatile. He also applied his makeup, although he realized he didn’t have time to paint his nails as he would have liked. Either way, he threw together a bag of stuff he might need: water, some earplugs, a phone charger, Tylenol, etc.
On the tube, Tim kept his headphones on and listened to his favorite songs by The Mechanisms, imagining what it would be like to see them live. He wished he walked there, since his restlessness was starting to attract some weird stares from people, but he didn’t really mind, because none of them were about to experience their favorite band live.
—
Jon sighed and repeated his lines for the intro of High Noon Over Camelot again, even though they had been rehearsing for the past hour. He was tired, but he knew that it would all change once he got on stage. He may be quiet and awkward as Jonathan Sims, but as Jonny d’Ville, he was confident and charming. Well, maybe not charming, but more than he was normally.
“Are you alright Jonny?” Jon startled at Nastya’s voice, he hadn’t even noticed her come up beside him.
“Yeah Nas, I’m okay. . .”
Nastya stared at him, tilting her head in that way that said Really?
Jon sighed, of course Nastya would have realized something was wrong, she had known him the longest and had an uncanny knack for knowing when people weren’t being truthful. Jon figured she probably would have realized something was off even if he wasn’t such a shit liar.
“Alright, alright. . . I’ve just been really busy at my job recently, you know how it is. Anyway, I’ll be fine on stage, don’t worry about it.”
Nastya kept staring at him. “Jonny, your work should never prioritize your health. I don’t care if you are busy, you need to make time for yourself sometimes. We haven’t seen you in ages.”
Just then, they heard Brian call from the other side of the practice room, "Thirty minutes until we’re gonna go! I don’t want to hear anything about you guys not being ready, so get ready now.”
Nastya stepped toward him, and Jon opened his mouth to object, but she interrupted him. “Hush Jonny, let me do your makeup.” He closed his eyes and let Nastya cover his face with eyeliner to give him his iconic look. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily, we’ll talk about this after the show.”
—
Jon took a final deep breath before he stepped out on stage. “Killers and renegades, liars and thieves!” The lights directed at the stage blinded him and heated his body under his unfortunately thick vest. “We are The Mechanisms!” A loud applause sounded as he introduced his crew.
The lights dimmed as they went into “The City”, and Jon was able to make out the audience clearer. It was much more packed than some of their other concerts, he was surprised at how popular they were.
As Jon repeated his lines, like clockwork, he scanned the crowd. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but he wanted to avoid any unnecessary social interactions.
His heart stopped. Well, not literally, but it sure felt like it. Jon froze for a split second, and his body went cold, despite the hot lights beating down on him. It was Tim. From the archives. His assistant, Tim.
He fumbled with his words for a moment before getting back on track. “- a-and one horse in particular.” Shit. He’d hope that everyone else was too busy getting ready for the next song to notice his hesitation.
Jon gulped in a breath of the hot, stale air permeating the area of the bar that was specifically designed for live music. Tim hadn’t noticed him, right? There's no way he could have, the lights were glaring, and he looked much different from his usual style. He could only hope that Tim was drunk enough at this point that he couldn’t recognize his voice.
He continued through Ulysses Dies at Dawn in a daze, only remembering his parts because of how many times he had said them, both to himself and others. The only thoughts in his mind were about Tim and the fear he would be recognized. Fuck, what if he had brought Sasha or Martin too? He didn’t see either of them, but considering the harsh light in his eyes and the darkness of the crowd, it would have been easy to miss them.
—
Tim’s throat felt raw from his scream-singing of Ulysses Dies at Dawn, but he barely stopped for a drink from his water bottle. He couldn’t risk looking away, even for a moment, when this had been the experience he’d been looking forward to for weeks, months even.
He kept his eyes glued on Gunpowder Tim, his favorite member of the band. (and not just because they shared a name). Tim raised his phone, thankful that he had charged it before the show, and took probably about a million pictures of Tim and some of the other members. He watched their ease in performing and marveled at the charm of their lyrics, the music and the lyrics seeming to flow through his soul. Damn, live music really was better.
Tim screamed even louder when he heard the intro notes for High Noon Over Camelot, his hands red and aching from how hard he had clapped. Shoot, he really wished Sasha was here to see this. He began recording at that thought, making sure Sasha would be able to hear the marvel of music that was The Mechanisms.
—
Jon stumbled backstage as soon as he finished his last song, not bothering to stay and talk with the audience as he normally did. He needed to make sure Tim didn’t know about this. It would completely ruin his reputation. His assistant would never take him seriously, although they barely did now anyway. He didn’t think Elias would fire him for something like this, but Jon never really got to know his boss.
He leaned against the wall of the backstage area of the stage, hurriedly pulling off his vest and numerous belts. He felt far too hot for this. Nastya came back a moment later, holding her violin. She didn’t even seem to notice Jon at first, and only acknowledged him once her instrument was safely back in its case.
“Jonny? Are you okay?”
“Fuck, I . . . Nastya . . . I don’t know what to do.” Jon breathed out, losing his cool the moment he was out of the spotlight.
“About what?” Nastya scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong, Jonny?”
“Shit, Nas . . . he was here.”
“Who was here? Jonny, what’s going on?” Nastya stepped closer, worry in her eyes as she stared at her friend (read: little brother).
“T-tim . . .” When Nastya kept staring at him, he continued, “. . . from my work.”
Nastya seemed to light up. “Oh Jonny, what’s wrong with that? Come, let’s go talk to him!” She moved to grab Jon’s arm, but he pulled away before she could touch him.
“No! You don’t understand . . . he would never respect me if he found out . . .”
Nastya watched him breathe heavily and placed a hand on his shoulder. “And so what if he finds out? That’ll only make you more cool. And besides, who cares if he doesn’t respect you? If he doesn’t, that's his problem, and he doesn’t deserve to interact with you.”
“Yeah . . . yeah . . .” Jon looked at his feet, his thoughts slowing down. “A-and he was probably super drunk anyway . . . heh, he’s always coming into work hungover.”
“Exactly, it’s no problem. Now, come on and get some drinks with us.” And with that, Nastya looped her arm around his shoulders and guided him out.