Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jon’s feet patter down the steps with mild fervour, he whispers a string of curses; Already running about 15 minutes late, after a small series of unfortunate events. “Bugger… Run faster– Come on, Sims– fu…” The ancient wooden steps creak under his weight even if he barely touches each one, toeing all the way down with one hand gliding down the wall and one grasping tight to his bag and cane. 

In his haste, Jon misses the last step; falling forward to his demise with more momentum than he was expecting. His hand pulls the bag up to his chest while the body curls inward, wings instinctively trying to move to stabilise himself yet to no avail as Jon’s foot drops right down onto the floorboards to his surprise and his luck. 

Catching himself on a dusty shelf, the Archivist slowly lets out a soft pant, he’s at least not 20 minutes late (He tries not to dwell too much on that). 

Yet a tight tug at his spine brought Jon’s attention to his back– he squirms for a second to try to get the fabric back in place, twisting and moving his arms sporadically yet to no luck. 

This lasts a second before he gives up and pulls a hand up and over his shoulders to adjust a piece of tight fabric and a misplaced buckle that stretched over his wings to hide them, a binder if you will.

Said wings were currently under quite a few layers for a late August day in an un-air conditioned basement and Jon was really not in the clothes, nor in the mood to put any more unnecessary strain on his already tired back muscles yet he still needed to put his things away in the office, having an early morning meeting with his boss.

The week before, Elias had lovingly scheduled a brief meeting on Monday for what he called a: ‘Run down on the initial issues of the Archive and what he should be doing to help keep progress on a smooth and fast track to organisational perfection’. Although, that was Jon’s job anyway, despite how the previous Archivist had left it.

Jon just sighed, dragging himself around the bullpen– None of his assistants had arrived quite yet, having an extra 30 minutes to either go to morning meetings or prep some tasks for the workers under his care. On the way, his foot catches on a stack of papers, that’s haphazardly placed in his footpath,

“Oof–” He grumbles in annoyance, kicking the offending stack away, “We should organise these miscellaneous statements from the outside in…” Yet he does not pick any up, instead making a mental note to write that on the small blackboard of ‘To-Do’s that Sasha put up for efficiency.

In his office, Jon just placed his bag by the desk, sitting in his strangely comfortable desk chair and logs on the computer to run his eyes over the couple emails that grace his inbox: A request for some documents about an ex-employee trying to reapply, a complaint about Tim sneaking into the general break rooms to utilise the stove the Archives lacked and stunk up the whole room and a reminder of his meeting with Elias in about… Seven minutes.

In order of request, Jon sent off a scan about data of the guy that they had digitalised (If only they had that with the whole Archives) he then promised to have a ‘talk’ with Tim about ‘the situation’ and requested their own little induction stove to at the very least minimise both the ability to directly burn any Statements and also maybe the ability to heat up any stew from his freezer that he had forcibly been given as meal prep.

Finally, the Archivist sighs, stands from his chair and starts the trek back up to Elias’ office in one of the higher floors. Rolling his shoulders back, once, twice, Jon just grabs his cane, rounds the desk, pulls his office door open and climbs up the basement stairs. 

When he wasn’t racing against the time, Jon was fighting his own body’s instability; wings themselves were used for balance the same way a cat's tail would be, often unfurling to catch themselves or to redistribute weight. Although, Jon had his own wings bound behind his back in a harness, which made his already shaky balance worse, hence the cane.

Jon was in the Lobby in about half a minute, which actually had a lift to the higher floors (it wouldn’t go all the way down to the Archives as it kept getting stuck when it hit the basement floor), pressing the button and stepping inside the steel box. 

The Institute had 3 floors, not including the Archives’ that housed the 4 other departments, including Elias’ office somewhere on the third at the very end of the winding corridors.

Only the heads of departments were really arriving at the time, so without the fear of the lift stopping on every floor Jon let himself lean on the railing for a couple seconds. The red LEDs increased from G to 1 to 2 before the door slid open silently for Jon to start his short walk down the corridor towards the head’s office.

The door itself was this simple wooden one yet much more ornate than the rest of the offices; Gold accents, a polished doorknob with an engraved title where a peep hole would be. Jonah Magnus, the founder, was either really proud of his business or a prick.

Knock. Knock. 

Jon raps on the door, waiting just a couple seconds before the muffled call comes from inside the room; The doorknob turns and Jon steps right in. 

The current head, Elias Bouchard sat behind his large wooden desk with this obnoxious smile on his face– He was staring right through Jon. Grey eyes piercing his own as Jon just puts one foot in front of the other towards the vacant seat, leaning slightly on his cane when his wings shift enough to knock him off kilter.

“Ah, Jonathan. A pleasure to have you this morning.” Elias leans forward slightly, his forearms resting in front of him while Jon gets settled in the arm chair that he’s really surprised people get sacked in. 

“I’m wondering how you’ve been settling into the Archives these past few months,” Elias’ voice is clear and concise as he explains his aspirations for the meeting this morning, “I heard you’ve been digitising quite a few Statements.”

Jon’s head just nods slowly, remembering to sit up straight and focus his gaze on his boss’ nose, “Yes, my assistants have been quite the help, Sasha has been scanning Statements, she has been the most help; Making folders on the local servers for ease of organisation.” In hindsight, Jon probably should have asked what that meant when Sasha had said it instead of taking it at face value– He majored in Parapsychology and Literature, not Computer Science.

“Excellent, Jonathan but monthly reviews for your assistants are not due until next week.” The majority of those were in fact written up and in Jon’s desktop, (which is a mess of icons) only having a total of three assistants under one department head was really a miracle for Jon– He couldn’t imagine having to write up more than three reports while being overloaded with request work and having to organise a whole department from scratch with almost no system in place. 

“I wish to inform you about live Statements.” When he was in Research, Jon had seen a couple people head down to the Archives to speak to Ms Robinson but he hadn’t assumed anything more than a complaint or even just a mailman handing in Statements (it’s not like Jon just assumed she had no friends but… well), “You will have quite a few individuals who will come in to give you a Statement and I request, even with paper Statements, that if technology deems to fail for digitisation, you find means to record the Statement for Archiving, it is much easier to link ties in with emotion and verbatim gives that exact link.”

That made sense at the very least, “Right, yes.” Jon just found himself nodding again, “I’ll keep an eye out for any Statement givers… Will they be giving any notice?” Fiddling with his cardigan’s buttons, Jon has to remind himself about eye contact, his head flicking back up to focus on the tip of Elias’ nose instead of the piercing grey eyes. “They will do, so don’t worry too much about that aspect.”

“I apologise about the lack of training, I would have had you shadowing Gertrude if I knew of her… untimely departure.” Elias just moves some papers around on his desk before clicking through his computer for just a moment, “If you have a look on the Institute’s website, I’d suggest you read how the arrangement and scheduling works. Visitors, if they are to come in should have an email that you and Ms. Zampano should have access to.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jon gets a little peek at Elias’ computer screen, he makes note of where to find the website tab and leans back in his chair again, “I understand, Sir.” But there was one question he didn’t understand, “What do you mean by ‘technology failing’?” 

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The familiar black and red double decker pulls up to the Institute, bustling with people at the ripe time of 8am, rush hour in full swing. A similarly familiar woman stumbled out the open doors of the bus, thanking the driver: The Institute’s own Sasha James, holding tight to her own messenger bag. 

Her steps light as she enters Institute grounds, having a quick look in the window of the entrance, putting a loose hair out her face before pushing the door open to the lobby. Sasha passes a couple people in the office, one of the first of the Archives to appear as she approaches the receptionist.”

“Rosie! Morning!” Sasha just grins through the whole routine, clocking in, “Morning, Sasha.” Rosie just smiles up at her as she replies to some emails, “Is Tim in yet?” A shake of the head denies that statement, silly of her to ask. “If he has then he hasn’t come by me.” Sasha just groans and signs her name off on the sheet, “When is he ever early…?”

“One of these days, I’m telling you!” Sasha pockets that pen, just because she’s a model employee doesn’t mean she can’t nick a couple pens, not like Tim doesn’t do it too. “Keep telling yourself that, James,” and with that, Sasha scans her id and heads down to the Archives.

Her feet move slowly, casually down to the basement, wondering whether they should spruce up the walkway with a couple pictures when all of the organising is done and dusted. She scoops up a couple loose papers to add onto some of the more stable stacks on the closest shelf.

On the walk to her desk, Sasha sneaks a quick peek into Jon’s office; She sees his bag to the side of his desk and his computer logged on. She finally just places her bag to her own desk before collapsing in her spinny chair and is able to get some work started before Tim comes in to poke a hole through her concentration.

20 minutes later, at least some organising having done, most of the statements she’d found were almost all illegitimate made by drunk students or people who’d witnessed a sleep paralysis, at least that’s what she can find when doing some googling on the matter. Nonetheless, Sasha creates transcripts, saves them and files the physical statement away by year written with any appropriate notes and research made on a little lined paper both kept in a plastic wallet.

20 whole minutes. It really was all she had before the Archives door slammed open, echoing through the basement with loud music playing through headphones but loud enough to be heard anyway, along with chatter, “Oh– Careful, Tim.” Looks like her coworkers decided to arrive as a troupe then.

“We come bearing gifts!” Tim excitedly runs in, tripping over his own feet with Martin on his tail with a small box of muffins, fresh from the Bakery. Tim dumps his backpack right by his desk and chases Martin all the way to their breakroom, immediately nabbing a chocolate muffin, taking an extra lemon muffin to deposit onto Sasha’s desk. “How generous of you, Stoker.” Sasha took the muffin in hand and hummed in delight at the first bite, “And, thank you, Martin.”

Martin just stammered over his words for a moment before just grinning gratefully and giving a thumbs up, heading into the break room again for a little cleanup for the crumbs Tim left scoffing down his muffin, leaving both Tim and Sasha in the bullpen.

“Is the boss in?” Tim leans his body over Sasha’s desk, not so discreetly leaving his wrapper on her desk along with muddy fingers dropping crumbs everywhere, “He is, just out of the Archives for a bit.” Sasha herself just takes a more neat bite; There’s still crumbs that drop onto her trousers but she didn’t choke hers down like a starved wolf.

“I thought I was early for once…” Dramatically, Tim goes to flop in his own chair– A couple metres away from both Martin and Sasha’s desk. “He’s so cagey lately. ‘Oh Tim, aren’t you supposed to be working on this!’, ‘Martin, this formatting is completely wrong!’ Like, I love the guy but…” He lets out a long lasting sigh and pushes off the floor, the wheels of his chair squeaking all the way back to Sasha’s desk.

He picks up one of the pens off her desk, spinning it between his fingers, Sasha just turns to him and raises an eyebrow and Tim takes it personally, “I mean it! I do like him. I mean… not that the cane is bad, I don’t know if it’s a fashion choice or…” Sasha perked up and furrowed her brow, moving to switch tabs from the research she was doing to her files, clicking through a couple, “Actually, Tim… I saw Jon’s file once.” “He showed you that?” “No…”

She tilts her screen slightly to obscure Tim’s vision, obviously not wanting to give any information out that Sasha really didn’t have the right to properly share, “But, there’s no injury note on here…” She scrolls through the employee report that she definitely didn’t steal from Jon’s computer, he needs to stop logging onto his computer and just leaving it there. “Have you seen how many layers he wears? He could just be off balance!” Tim squirms in his seat and decides against sitting on it properly, giving up with the pen and just pulls his phone out to find an image from Research.

“He dresses like we’re going into the Ice Age, Sash! Look at this–” Tim scrolls through all the images, each one Jon is wearing at least four layers, usually a cardigan over either a T-Shirt or a dress shirt over a turtleneck or undershirt with a thick coat over that! “No man needs this many layers. He’ll tip over at this rate!” 

Martin finds this the right time to walk into the room with three mugs in hand, Jon’s own unfilled sit on the counter for when he comes in, “I uhm, have tea?” He places all three onto Sasha’s desk and pulls his own chair over to sit with them before Tim spoke up, “Martin, have you noticed anything about Jon?” 

A shrug, Martin takes a slow sip of his tea and hums in thought, “I don’t want to talk behind his back but…” Hesitating, Martin just sat staring down into his tea before Tim just scoffs into his hand and chugs half his tea before putting it down to push off the ground for a spin, “He’s not here, Martin. Plus we’re not speaking bad about him…” Sasha nods and pulls up the research tab again, “We’re just saying observations, no harm.” 

Finally, Martin nods and just sighs, taking another sip, “Well… Have you seen the way he awkwardly backs out of rooms?” Both Sasha and Tim take a second to think back before nodding, “I remember when he did that when we caught him SO off guard with the jumpscare!” Tim hums as he reminisces on that day, just a small April Fools prank, “He jumped into the air and backed out of the room like he had something behind him...” 

“Speaking of Jon,” Sasha pipes up again as she grabs another statement from her pile, “He asked me to research this but I swear with every statement he gives me, despite his…” She goes to try to be nice and Tim gets there before her, “Denial?” Then Martin, “Disbelief?”, “...Skepticism.”

“I swear these aren’t actually true? Every single researched statement is able to be disproved by witnesses,” She pulls up a report written about interviews taken around the place before continuing, “Police reports, thank you Tim.” Said man keens and hums, “Your welcome, Miss James.”

“Have either of you actually found a Statement that has no ties?” Neither Tim nor Martin spoke up and Martin just hums, “I suppose that’s why we have to organise it, separate the statements and fables.” 

“You’re congregating.” Jon stood at the base of the stairs with an unimpressed look, hands slipping into his pockets as he sighs, rounding the bullpen, turning as his back starts to face the Archival Assistants. “I’d have a start on the To-Do list, otherwise I’ll have some work assigned.”

Chapter Text

The work day itself was fine, Sasha was efficient as always, ticking off tasks from the To-Do list and Martin adding a couple after a quick regroup. Jon had lovingly explained what he had gathered from his and Elias’ meeting; Everyone was still confused on what parameters were needed for recording Statements but everyone decided to cross that bridge when they got to it.

Jon, who had in fact assigned some work, mostly down in document storage to at least get some of the shelves in Alphabetical order in there, he swears there were Statements hidden in there along with the financial paperwork and invoice logs.

After making sure everyone had actually started with work, Jon heads into his office, finding a familiar mug on his desk, one of the two handmade mugs he and Georgie had made him at a pottery class with an awfully painted bright calico maine coone right on the front, filled to the brim with tea.

Sighing, the Archivist closes the door behind him; he listens carefully to make sure the latch clicks shut and has a seat at his desk. He takes a long sip of his tea, which has cooled dramatically to a luke-warm.

All the basement has to offer as light are these obnoxious lights that were ever so slightly yellowing and had that awful buzzing when left on too long instead of any LEDs and Jon was pretty sure the Archives ran on a whole other generator than the solar panels the rest of the institute worked on.

That is what Jon ended up working on for the next two or three hours, despite the skeptic he was, Jon swears almost all (if not all of them) the statements he comes across are in some way fabricated, 

“Honestly, locked in a room being chased by some creature in the dark…” Jon scoffs as he searches up some documents he’d sicced Sasha to claim at the hospital and then the Police Station to find the man had been higher than cloud nine, had a power outage and consequently a bad trip.

He writes some notes down and shoves the statement in a box on the floor of his office. These are going to be archived in some area of the Archives he’s dedicated towards these completed and explained statements, his discredited aisle of papers.

Yet Jon wasn’t planning on heading out of his office in a while, definitely not hiding from his employees– Unprofessional, he knows. 

Although, as the pile in the box piles higher, Jon quickly finds out that he’ll have to take more than one trip by splitting the pile in two since he wouldn’t be able to use his extra back muscles for his wings to stabilise himself from tipping over with the heavy box.

So instead of heading out to face his coworkers and internalise his awful social skills with the rest of his department Jon just pushes back from his desk, propping his legs up on a shelf, he would never admit to anyone that yes, Jonathan Sims, resident workaholic ever willingly takes breaks.

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11:37

Timmy created Untitled

Timmy changed the group name to Working Hard or Hardly Working

Timmy added Sasha Holmes

Timmy added KarTEAn

Timmy: i’m bored :/

Sasha Holmes: It’s not even lunch??

Timmy: gof forbid a guy hav a short attention span

Sasha Holmes: How much of your shelf have you done?

Timmy: almost all of it

Timmy: its a lot more hidden statements than actual paperwork </3

KarTEAN: Tim I can see half of the documents on the floor 

Timmy: MARTIN?? BETRAYAL

Sasha Holmes: Jons not gonna be happy, do you need help

Timmy: crying sobbing

Timmy: yes pls ♥️

Sasha Holmes: Coming right over

11:54

KarTEAn: Hey shouldnt Jon be here too??

Timmy: hes too much of a busy bee to text us :( 

Sasha Holmes: Thats a good idea actually, wait

Timmy: sasha…

Timmy: SASHA WHATRE YOU DOING

Timmy: I CAN SEE YOU

11:55

Timmy: Do you guys wanna go out for lunch

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11:57

Sasha Holmes created Untitled

Sasha Holmes changed the group name to Archiving the Archives

Sasha Holmes added Timmy

Sasha Holmes added KarTEAn

Sasha Holmes added Admiral-My-Boy™

Sasha Holmes changed Sasha Holmes’ name to Sasha

Sasha: Work Chat :) 

Admiral-My-Boy™ changed Admiral-My-Boy™‘s name to Jon

Sasha changed KarTEAn’s name to Martin

Jon: I see

Jon: Out of curiosity, when are you going to take your lunch?

Martin: Around one I think?

Sasha: Yeah, around one all three of us will be out

Timmy: 

Sasha: Tim, what’re you doing…

Timmy changed Jon’s name to the Boss

Timmy: nothing

The Boss changed Timmy’s name to Timothy Stoker

Martin: Oh!

Sasha: giggling

the Boss: I suppose if we’re doing this…

Timothy Stoker: gasp JONNY

the Boss: dont call me that

Timothy Stoker: the horror… 

Timothy Stoker: It's Joeover, life ENDED, heart BROKEN

the Boss: Tim what

Timothy Stoker: BROCKEN I TELL YOU

Sasha: YOU'RE SO DRAMATIC ITS LITERALLY YOUR NAME

Timothy Stoker: NO SYMPATHY! I CANT BELIEVE THIS. sniff, Marto you are my only trustworthy friend

Martin: DONT DRAG ME INTO THIS??

11:59

Working Hard or Hardly Working

Timmy: he closed his door :( 

Sasha Holmes: Hes so smug >:/

KarTEAn: Did you see his smirk when he closed it??

Timmy: WHAT

12:01

Archiving the Archives

the Boss: Leaving the casual messages, how much of document storage have you gotten through? I heard Sasha walk off to (hopefully) assist Tim.

Sasha: Yep!! 

Timothy Stoker: so rude to me 💔

Sasha: We got through the closest two shelves from the door, salvaged at least 5 hidden statements soon to deposit on your desk :D 

Sasha: Ive sent an errand boy your way

Timothy Stoker: i am approaching, Jon.

the Boss: Oh, I am bracing myself.

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Putting his phone back on his desk, screen down; Jon decides he didn’t want to show off how long he was doing anything else instead of working, contrary to what he was always hounding them about. 

He shifts in his seat to dislodge an unfortunate caught feather in his harness, his back already starting to burn from prolonged binding, Jon briefly wonders whether Tim’s message was a joke, “Every time…” 

His spine twisted, wings shifting on his back underneath all his clothes but no squirming or wriggling proved fruitful. That particular feather back under the straps, “Can’t you ever do this at a more convenient ti–” The doorknob to his office turns and Jon’s head snaps up. He panics, sue him.

Jon sits up in his seat, back ramrod straight, arms… attached to him? No, his hands grab the closest piece of stationery to look busy and it ends up being an empty piece of lined paper. Tim bursts in his office, a couple papers (no less than 15) and dumps the small stack on his desk with a very self satisfied grin.

“Delivery successful.”

Folding up the paper, Jon just popped it in his trouser pocket, definitely not to hide how blank it is, “Thank you, Tim. Would you like a reward for your efforts?” Jon swears on his life that the statement was filled with the utmost sarcasm his voice could achieve, even raising an eyebrow before looking back down to his desk to have a quick read through the papers that Tim had oh so generously delivered right to his desk.

“Do you have one?” Jon looked up incredulously before nodding, “I suppose I do,” Jon then pushes his chair back, grabbing the strap of his bag to settle it on his lap, the loose feather poking him and scritching his back in the worst way, holding back a grimace. The pain runs down his spine in a dull ache, settling right at the base of his wings while the bones in them start to strain as well.

“If you’re able to deliver that box,” he gestures towards the box of completed statements, knocking two birds with one stone with his request, “to the discredited aisle on your way out.”

With Tim’s cheeky nod, Jon just sighs, digging around in his bag, crinkling a plastic bag inside before handing him a milk treat, rice paper around it with a rabbit with a blue outline as a logo along with red accents on it, “Here, now is there any other business you have with me or can you get back to work?”

“Aye aye, Captain!” The taller man uses his teeth to open the twist off wrapper and pops the sweet into his mouth. He does not falter when he picks up the box of papers before grinning and walking right out of Jon’s office.

Said boss in turn groans in annoyance and starts wriggling around in his office chair, the stray feather not budging. Jon rolls his shoulders and stumbles over his feet to lock his door, with the decency to stick his head out to shout towards his employees to ‘not bother me for 20 minutes’.

Jon pulls his cardigan over his head, throwing the offending fabric across the room, then unbuttons the minimum buttons from his dress shirt before throwing that away as well; only pulling some of the stitching from it as it went over his head. 

Finally, his undershirt came off, leaving the man in his bottoms and his wing harness, keeping his wings restrained in a way that hides his true nature from people around him.

With a click, the harness falls away and Jon falls onto his bum. He spreads his wings out behind him to their full span, artificial light shining through his thinner primary feathers, contrasting the reddish-brown of his inner ones. 

A relieved sigh falls out of Jon's mouth as he softly flaps his wings a couple times— knocking some papers onto the floor Jon swears aren’t important at the moment. He is more focused on relaxing his very very stiff wings to lay on the floor in their full glory, soft reds and translucent brown dust his wings and there’s a couple smaller feathers covering up the base and spanning out across his back while a couple feathers grow on his chest amongst the hair already there. 

Jon keeps one out for a quick preen— Jon ran his hand against the upturned feathers and straightened some out, making sure to get the pesky one that bent against him.

The ache in Jon’s back died down in minutes as he lay on the floor for an indeterminate amount of time.

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12:03

Working Hard or Hardly Working

Timmy: I GOT A TREAT AND YOU DIDNT!! 😝😝😝

KarTEAn: You did?

Sasha Holmes: Proof or it didnt happen

Timmy: [Attached one photo of a flattened out wrapper with a white rabbit with a blue outline with blue, black and red accents and details around, placed on the floor of some hallway in the Archives]

Sasha Holmes: WHAT

Sasha Holmes: Whered you get that

Timmy: our resident Jonnythan Sims gifted me this ♥️

Sasha Holmes: He did NOT

Timmy: HE DID!!

KarTEAn: I love those! They’re so sweet…

KarTEAn: Condensed mlk

Timmy: our bsos has such a sweet tooth

Timmy: maybe hell like you cus of how sweet you are xx

KarTEAn: Oh! Was it a good idea to give you sugar?

Sasha Holmes: bsos

Sasha Holmes: also probably not

12:10

Archiving the Archives

Sasha has changed the Boss’s name to the bsos

the bsos: ?

12:11

Working Hard or Hardly Working

Timmy: youre AWFUL to me 

Timmy: SASHA HOW COULD YUO DO THIS TO ME

Sasha Holmes: Hush, shh shut up i know im a comedic genius

Sasha Holmes: Do you think hes willing to share?

Timmy: i EARNED it fair and square!!

Sasha Holmes: :P 

12:15

Archiving the Archives

Sasha: @the bsos Jon? 

Timothy Stoker: DONT DO IT JON 

Timothy Stoker: I EARNED IT

Sasha: You know how I’m such a great employee

the bsos: Do you want a sweet?

Timothy Stoker: Jon, please…

Martin: Jon, I mean you don’t need to feel obligated to

Sasha: he’s pulling out SPaG for your approval, Jon. Don’t be fooled

Martin: Although, if you’re open to handing out sweets…

the bsos: I have a total of five.

the bsos: I repeat - Five sweets left. [the bsos has attached one photo of 5 sweets all in their wrappers sitting on his desk with a couple pens behind them]

the bsos: The person who gets the most work done with documentation gets all of them and everyone else gets none, whether you decide to split them or not is not my problem.

Sasha: YOU are cheeky.

Timothy Stoker: GOGOGOGO

Martin: Guess I’m back to work :)

Sasha: TIM WHERED YOU PUT MY STUFF

the bsos: :) 

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Jon sighs and gets settled on his chair, not bothering to pull his harness back on, hopefully putting his workers to the task to keep them busy for another 20 minutes. Giving himself the freedom, Jon pulls his legs up on his chair and sits criss-cross apple sauce, chucking his bag on the floor again.

Opening his computer again, Jon types up a couple reports, planning to get those employee reviews out before today, making sure to write on all of theirs: ‘When given the correct motivation, individual’s work ethic increases drastically,’ Jon chuckles to himself as he rereads that. 

The pair of wings were propped over each arm rest and were able to relax for once today. In the next hour, Jon is able to finish all three employee reviews and get started on the statements Tim had retrieved him.

“Statement of… Phillip Wilkins…”, Jon clicked open a new work document and turned on speech to text, choosing to write up a transcript like this and reread and edit the text after he was done. 

Mr Wilkin’s Statement was one of delusion, to Jon’s absolute surprise, a deep seated fear of heights and then a malfunction from a roller coaster in a dodgy fun fair, found on a news website on the day. 

After that came the Statement of Romana Raegan about the strange man across the road, who after a short inspection on the news around the time the Statement was taken Jon chalks it to as a stalker and anxiety. Although he does shoot an email Sasha’s way to get some street camera footage.

Then, Hera Irvine who was under severe bullying in the workplace; She was mildly if not incredibly superstitious- having believed in vengeful spirits, who were out to get her. The last two were most obviously written by two people in touch– They were written in the same week, about the same story, in the same perspective.

Jon just paperclipped those together and after a google search, he finds out it is the same story as one Coraline movie. He sighs when he puts the finished and notated statements to the side when he notices his phone has lit up with notifications from a discord server he hasn’t touched in a good week

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12:53

The Crew of the Starship Aurora

AuroraMyBeloved: @Your Humble Captain 

AuroraMyBeloved: Oh wait

AuroraMyBeloved changed Your Humble Captain’s name to Your Humble First Mate

AuroraMyBeloved: Jonny

Chapter Text

The phone is quickly nabbed off the desk as Jon pushes off his desk; The wheels on Jon’s chair rolling him away into the centre of the room– Spinning slightly as he moves. Jon turns the phone on, the screen lights up in his face, opening up the group chat. 

The phone receives notifications galore as his employees live up to the expectations of Jon’s mild bribery, photos and messages on updates of projects that have been put off for at least a week. Such things include: 

- Bullpen tidying, loose papers and unorganised papers all at least put out of the way, Martin was the first to show that off. 

- Follow up over the phone, some just scheduled thanks to Sasha and some done then and there thanks to Tim, research. 

- Emails from other departments, finance to request some label makers and other miscellaneous things for the archives, Sasha and her connections to get all that done was a miracle; Jon wasn’t quite sure he was very liked across the departments, then again he was also incredibly socially awkward.

- Bringing the rubbish up, much to the dismay of everyone; apparently they had a row over that one, fighting on whether it counted. It was a joint effort though, opening doors, carrying the couple (mostly recycling) bin bags they had up the stairs and someone rebagging all the bins.

- Separation of institute paperwork and statements, Martin was very keen to show off his piles of work. Jon spies another cuppa by him in the photo, obviously more intrigued by the game instead of the prize. 

- The digital transcripts of multiple statements, some of which Jon had been hounding Tim to do for weeks.

Jon sighs, he really hasn’t recently had enough time to get on this other group chat, despite seeing the members just two weeks ago for band practice (this reminds Jon to drink water- belting songs every other week does his throat in). 

He spares a second or two, backreading the many photos and brief explanations given in the work chat to make sure there aren't any needy assistants about to burst into his office again before flapping his right wing to spin the chair around, opening that illusive group chat he swears he didn’t forget about.

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12:55

The Crew of the Starship Aurora

Your Humble First Mate: what? 

Your Humble First Mate: MY FUCKING NAME??

AuroraMyBeloved: Oh look who finally shows up

Your Humble First Mate: yes cus i have a FAT life

TheDuckSong: Jonny, we’re having a promo photoshoot on Friday

Your Humble First Mate: oh yeah fogor

TheDuckSong: You’ll be there?

Your Humble First Mate: oh let me check my schedule 

Your Humble First Mate: hmm UHM MM…

Your Humble First Mate: look at that. I HAVE NO OTHER FRIENDS

Tincan: Aren’t you at work? 

Your Humble First Mate: maybeeee… *bats eyes*

AuroraMyBeloved: Never do that again.

Your Humble First Mate: finished all my work *uwus and twirls my hair*

One Last Smoke: Jonny what the fuck

Your Humble First Mate: FUCK SAKE MY PHONES GETTING SPAMMED

Your Humble First Mate: one sec

12:57

Archiving the Archives

Timothy Stoker: i took the bins out :) 

Sasha: YOUU?? I REBAGGED EVERYTHING?

Martin: That was a joint effort >:(

Timothy Stoker: i did the hard work

Sasha: Martin had to hold all the heavy doors

Martin: YEAH!!

Sasha: @the bsos By the way i got that call back about the stalker guy apparently some guy was just smoking outside and she has a bad background :( 

the bsos: Thank you, Sasha. Much appreciated, I’ll put that on her statement.

Timothy Stoker: what I DONT GET A THANK YOU?

Martin: SINCE WE ALL DID IT DO NONE OF US GET POINTS?

the bsos: I suppose you all get one point, yet it shall obviously equal out if that is what you ask. It technically counts for nothing.

Sasha: Arent you supposed to encourage teamwork?

the bsos: I enjoy watching my employees fight tooth and nail for measly sweets like primary school children.

Timothy Stoker: wow.

Sasha: Found a couple more statements ill leave on my desk for now in case i find more

Timothy Stoker: wait where did you get those from

Martin: :) 

the bsos: Ah, the teaming has already begun. Have fun.

Timothy Stoker: WHAT

13:03

The Crew of the Starship Aurora

AuroraMyBeloved: I’m going to hunt you for sport

Your Humble First Mate: no but seriously what time

Tincan: What time do you finish work?

Almost Gru: actually where do you work

Your Humble First Mate: wouldnt you like to know moonboy

Your Humble First Mate: i finish at like 6pm i gotta stay an extra hour for boss work :( 

TheDuckSong: Okay give me a second to check something

Almost Gru: Cant relate

Your Humble First Mate: well we dont all get to go into drama to be a drama queen

Left Handed Freak: i mean…

Tincan: Jonny, where’d you go btw?

Your Humble First Mate: @One Last Smoke case and point 

One Last Smoke: i was a LAW MAJOR!

Your Humble First Mate: point and laugh guys your captain demands it

AuroraMyBeloved: haha ‘captain’

Your Humble First Mate: im gonna kill you when i spot you

One Last Smoke: not funny didnt laugh

Your Humble First Mate: @Tincan ive pitted my coworkers against each other to see whos the pettiets and childishest 

AuroraMyBeloved: pettiest*

Your Humble First Mate: bastard

Almost Gru: childishest L cant spell

Your Humble First Mate: L i decree its a word now

Almost Gru: says who

Your Humble First Mate changed Tincan’s name to the hanged man

Your Humble First Mate: @the hanged man is it a word now

the hanged man: Not in the dictionary

Your Humble First Mate: disowned

Almost Gru: HAHA

TheDuckSong: Guys, who has Jonny’s little rock step?

AuroraMyBeloved: @TheDuckSong I have it, it’s in my bedroom currently

TheDuckSong: Perfect! Make sure you bring it on Friday, we’ll head out at 2

Your Humble First Mate: wait but im still at work

Your Humble First Mate: ALSO WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

TheDuckSong: If we come to get you down early then that won’t be a problem! We want to do it in the park without all the extra children

Your Humble First Mate: How would you do that?

TheDuckSong: :) 

the hanged man: Wait. Jonny do you not count your coworkers as your friends?

Your Humble First Mate: no? techincaly they my employees, immediate boss tpye thing

Almost Gru: who actually put you in charge

One Last Smoke: Terrifying

Your Humble First Mate: bastards the lot of you

Your Humble First Mate: OH SHI

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Despite locking the door, he still hears the doorknob jiggle and then a faint muffled voice,

“Jon? It’s been an hour, we’re heading to lunch soon,” the voice belonged to the resident techie, Sasha James, who was usually Jon’s hardest working, most competent and most knowledgeable employee. 

Although, currently she is Jon’s nightmare coming true– shock running through his veins, unable to reach for his clothes that sat across the room from him before the doorknob jiggled again, “Actually, I have a question for you.” 

On one hand, the Archivist debates on jumping from his chair to grab his clothes, knowing he’ll create some noise in his panic, especially with one floorboard that screams bloody murder, (Jon swears the whole plank is loose) which definitely warrants Sasha or any of his assistants to get him out. Feathers around Jon’s chest and back puff up quite a bit, each wing stiffer as they flap nervously, a couple feathers finding their ways in hidden areas of his office. 

A reply never comes, well, it’s very late, “I’m just a bit busy!” The words almost force themselves out of his mouth, throat feeling awfully dry as Jon’s eyes dart from the door to the other side of the room where his clothes lay, head jerking from one side to another as he notices his clothes are definitely creased and crinkled in a way he would never usually allow them to be during work hours, perfectionism be damned. 

“Yeah, very convincing, Boss.” Tim has apparently decided to join Sasha outside his office like a pair of door-to-door salesmen— Yet this did not spark any interest in the Archivist, his attention a little preoccupied. 

After an eternity, Jon finally chooses to grab at least his harness off the floor, frantically flapping his wings to hover above ground to not make the single creaky floorboard give him away— he can never remember which one it is. Instead he fights tooth and nail to get the tight fabric and leather straps buckled in place. It is a much more tedious process than anyone can give him credit for:

The harness is made up of a backless compression shirt with a built-in belt at the waist, which is used to keep the harness from shifting upwards with one line of fabric, horizontal across the middle of the empty back, the shirt is pulled on, wings pulling out the main hole but under the singular stretch of fabric, pressing the wings to the back. 

Jon is able to get his shirt on, up and over. That was the easy part, the wings are all but shoved through the main hole and usually, he has time to set up his phone camera or find a mirror to get the initial fabric around his coverts but it takes a lot more frustration and ‘make do’s before he is able to get it somewhat in place— if not a little more uncomfortable than one should really be used to. (Not that Jon has met many other winged individuals)

Two straps running up from the waist, which look a little like suspenders. These two straps pull up and over one’s shoulders before moving perpendicular to the longer stretches of bone, this is used to pull each wing towards the body to minimise the strong silhouette they create.

Up and over, each strap is leveraged over both of Jon’s shoulders and wings, tugging both tips towards each other and downwards in a more awkward feel than the secure hold he had just this morning— when he had ample time to put said harness on.

These then meet in the middle, creating a T shape and continuing down the spine until they meet the waist again. 

Contrary to popular belief, Jon is not a contortionist. He has to worm his arm under the bound wings and shove the hook to latch onto the belt behind him— When alone, Jon refers to this part as putting thread through a needle if you were blind.

Three buckles, two to tighten around the loose primaries directly to the belt to stop accidental unfurrowing when startled, and one to wrap around both wings, mostly used as an extra precaution.

During some point of hassling with his wing binder, Jon fails to notice the rattling of the doorlock for about five minutes, both assistants getting increasingly worried with the silence and consequent increasing noise, Jon obviously having to stop hovering when his wings are bound, sitting and rolling on the floor to get all the pieces in place.

Apparently, in his desperation to remove his harness, Jon did not lock the door properly, the twist style lock, mostly available to be open with a pound, was only half turned and so after a bit of wiggling and one very helpful Tim. The duo are able to finally step in.

Finally, Jon only notices when the door starts to ease open. 

He dives behind his desk, awaiting. Debating on whether his life is over. They wouldn’t come around if he explicitly stated something untoward. Despite not having a traditional binder– Jon decided to use this to his advantage in a way he decides the consequences will have to come later.

“DON’T COME AROUND!” Jon sighs shakily, bracing himself, throwing a pen to where his clothes lay, hoping they were to take the hint, “Jon, what…” Tim, obviously baffled, tilting his head to get a good look at the pile of thrown clothes.

Silence. For only a moment.

“Oh.”

Chapter Text

The room stays silent for a minute more as Jon just worms as far under his desk as possible, pressing his back into the wood, ducking his head down, the bound wings being forcefully bent in the cramped space.

Footsteps recede from his office— only one pair. Jon isn’t trying to find out whose as whoever is left in that room doesn’t move. “We were planning to head out for lunch.” There is an audible softening in the voice; It helps Jon recognise who was left with him, Tim.

Tim’s easy going talking, despite, still clearly incredibly worried, even with the conclusion he has reached. It is nothing more than Jon’s own health priorities, which Tim can obviously vouch for, being bi and in the centre of quite a few queer related conversations. (He used to tell Jon about this extracurricular he did back in Research)

“Yeah. Uhm, sounds fun?” Inching forward ever so slightly, Jon peeks his head out— Only his head. His assistant is just standing there, fidgeting with something in his pockets, “Yeah! Me, Sasha and Martin are heading down this bagel place down… down the road” Tim doesn’t look Jon in the eyes as he continues to talk, slowly turning his back towards Jon and moving to close the door— away from prying eyes.

It is unclear whether Tim actually knows or if he has assumed otherwise, Jon hopes internally it is the latter. “We were gonna ask if you wanted to join us?” The office door clicks shut. Jon slowly but surely crawls across the office floor to get his clothes all the while holding conversation and begging Tim not to turn back around.

“I mean, would you like to have me?” The plank creaks loudly under Jon’s knee but Tim doesn’t turn around, “Yeah! We’d love to have you. I mean—” Finally, the undershirt is in Jon’s hand and he’s able to sit down on the floor to pull it over his head while Tim continues to talk about the upcoming lunch.

“Martin would love to see you there and Sasha would be happy to watch you eat for once,” the dress shirt comes back in next, Jon struggling only a little with the buttons. “O-Oh, really?” Twisting slightly, Jon double, triple checked that his harness and wings were out of sight, “I guess I have to then.” 

Only then, does Jon make a non committal noise to let Tim know he can turn back around, shrugging on his cardigan. “I suppose you must.” Smug, Tim’s default— even when he was wrong, which was quite a bit. “I didn’t know you swung that way.” Approaching, Tim sits by Jon on the floor, his voice clear, still caked in worry.

“Yeah… Yeah. It’s not exactly common knowledge,” Trying to stay vague, still unsure but Jon is quite sure Tim has assumed something a bit less baffling than his boss having two large wings. 

It takes quite a bit of silence, about a minute of awkward shifting and fidgeting, obviously something on Tim’s mind— a request. “Jon— Boss. You can just give us a text, you know?” No. Jon did not. He will not; At least not in the way Tim is phrasing it. “Or shoot me a message— I know how crucial this kind of break is.”

Tim laughs softly, just air leaving his lungs before looking away quickly, “You don’t ever seem quite as keen to take breaks.” Shrugging, Jon just relaxes, safe in the knowledge Tim doesn’t have. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

Undeterred about Jon’s attempt to push his assistant away again, Tim instead grins; His energy seemingly restoring during the 20 minutes they were sitting on the floor of Jon’s office, “So. Oh dear Bossman. Jonny.” Jon could not pull the self-satisfied smirk off Tim’s face even with his degree in sarcasm, “Tim…” “Let us rectify that.” 

Jon sighs, tired, exhausted after today. Tim scrambles up from his seat on the floor to retrieve Jon’s cane; That has been propped up in the corner between his desk and the wall for most of the day. “So, that bagel place?” Pushing up with his cane, Jon stands, back uncomfortable but he decides he’s able to put up with the feeling running down his spine for a couple more hours “Yes, I suppose.” 

Quite a bit of time had passed during Tim’s patience and Jon’s mild panic (yes, mild.) about a total of 40 minutes, the entire department would be late from lunch if they were to leave now. 

Although, with how Tim’s patience was stretched so far during those 40 minutes, entirely because of Jon, he silently continued following Tim up the basement stairs, taking a second with the receptionist, shifting his gaze to see Tim waiting at the entrance, both Martin and Sasha having been waiting for them, sitting in some of the sofas with some other employees in separate departments. 

Jon is unable to recall any of the faces directly, when he looks over at the small group of people who have accumulated around his coworkers. Although, out of the small crowd one of them stands out to him; A lady, about 5’7 (which is taller than him) Jon recognises from one of Elias’ meetings, he believes she’s a student shadowing the head of Research, who Jon swears had it out for him with how much work was always dumped on his desk.

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13:47

Working Hard or Hardly Working

Timmy: i have aquired the goods!

Sasha Holmes: acquired* but that’s FANTASTIC!

KarTEAn: Was he okay? I heard the hassle in one of the archives’ hallways :( He’s not hurt, is he?

Timmy: turns out theres no cis person in the archives

Timmy: who wooda thunk

KarTEAn: …Oh

Sasha Holmes: I mean Elias just has a vision of what he wants in his archives

Timmy: queer

KarTEAn: He’s certainly consistent

Timmy: oh jons coming with us btw so

Sasha Holmes: I havent been able to get Jon out of his office for lunch in weeks

KarTEAn: I’m going to explode if I have to watch him microwave tea again D: I’ll shed a single tear

Sasha Holmes: Martin… its a lost cause </3

Timmy: i tried back inreserch but he just juged me and insulted my microwave soup

Sasha Holmes: In his defense that stuff smelt like SHIT

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“Rosie.” The receptionist looked up, more formal than when Sasha or Tim would stop by, her smile more accustomed to a customer service grin, not quite meeting her eyes in genuine glee. “I’m going to log some late lunch for the Archives.” Debating whether to elaborate anymore, Jon does, “An incident has led to some extended lunch for my department.” Rosie just nods, dipping her head to type something into her computer before holding up a thumbs up, “All done! Have a good lunch.” “You too.”

“Oh, Jon!” Turning his head, the Archivist hums, confused; He is only a couple steps away when Rosie reminds him, “Could you check your emails when you get back?” Maybe, just for a second Jon notices how Rosie looks a little exhausted, maybe she doesn’t despise the department head. Jon is afraid of what he will find sitting in his inbox to read.

With that, Jon goes to catch up with Tim, leaning on his cane a lot more than usual, the constant shifting of his wings putting him on the verge of tipping over every so often, especially with the shoddy equipping of the harness itself— He only had himself to blame for that.

Tim practically beams, shoving Sasha out the door kicking and screaming, leaving Martin to hold the door open for Jon; His polite smile and overall body language keening as Jon thanks him, which was only a little telling about how Jon had been treating the assistant.

It does not take long for Jon to catch up with Sasha, limping along the pavement, Jon is not falling into traffic today. Sasha does not comment on the heavy usage of his cane— Instead, she talks with him about the conversation he and Rosie had, “You never talk to Rosie.” Jon just shrugs, kicking a bottlecap, which falls down a drain instead of forwards. “I needed to merely inform her of our extended lunch.” 

Somewhere behind them, Tim gasps and runs in front of the pair, “We have a longer lunch?” The Archives’ employees all simultaneously groan— Every lunch Tim has succeeded in running in late with increasingly unbelievable excuses.

“Yes, Tim. I have authorised us to be absent from work for an extra long lunch.” Tim cheers, earning some stares from the other side of the road as well as some passing cars— the downsides of living in central London Jon supposes.

“I do not believe most departments are quite fond of me— Rosie included.” Sasha cannot seem to decide whether smiling at him sympathetically or staring unnecessarily in disbelief is warranted, “How? Rosie likes absolutely everyone!” She walks slightly more tilted towards Jon than before, “She even likes Elias.” There’s a fake gag somewhere behind him and Martin’s subsequent giggling.

“Yes, Elias is… a sociable individual. Most are everyone else at the institute.” They walk past a stop sign and Jon almost trips over a can of coke, littered. “I. Am not. If you hadn’t gotten that already.” 

While Jon did notice Tim had not been in their immediate vision, he did not notice when Tim lags behind to keep Martin company. “So, Marto,” Said employee looks up casually with that same polite and soft look on his face, “Yeah?” 

Tim danced around the lad with a grin before walking backwards confidently, hands behind his back, “You agree our boss is hot.” His face erupted in red, “Tim!? What- Why? Where did this come from?” Martin rushes forward to what Tim thinks is to shut him up, choosing to pull his body back in a smooth step backwards.

His confidence has betrayed him.

Tim walks right into a pole.

He can barely hear as Martin moves to fuss over him, grabbing Tim by the shoulders to get a good look at his pupils— in case Tim hit his head. But Tim is much more focused on Jon. His stick up the ass boss is unable to hold back a snort, looking away slightly,a hand coming up to his mouth to hide his amusement. 

Tim’s eyes stuck gazing on his boss. Tim notes how this is the first time he has ever seen the man with actual joy on his face; That’s not at work with that perpetual stress line on his forehead that makes the man look about 40, “Tim?! Are you okay?” Martin puts his index on Tim’s chin to get the dazed man to concentrate on something important.

There’s a hand on the back of Tim’s head, moving hair and Tim’s vision is quickly taken over by the absolute perfect man in front of him. Martin burrows his fingertips into Tim’s hair, checking him for bumps and bruises in a way that rubs his scalp so good, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder, “Yep. Yessir, Marto. All in one piece.” An audible sigh rings into Tim’s head as Martin nods, relieved. “Fantastic.”

“Check his brain’s still in place.” Jon just grins, sneaking a quick photo as Tim grabs Martin’s hand, despite the sputtering of the assistant, “Jon, you wound me! You never laugh like this and only when I, your humble friend gets hurt you find joy in it!” In response, Jon just sighs with that stupid grin, leaning on his cane.

When the group starts walking again, they settle into a bit more casual conversation, “So, where’s this bagel shop?” Jon asks when he swears the group has taken a couple more turns that ‘down the road’ would usually be. “It’s just a 10 minute walk from here, 20 if we don’t take any of the back alleys.” 

Shrugging apologetically, Tim just hums, swinging his and Martin’s hands while Sasha mutters some insults at him, “Listen, I did say down the road, never said how many roads!” Jon rolls his eyes and nods absentmindedly as they turn down the first back alley, thank goodness for London’s infinite road schemes.

To this Jon tries to, as casually as he can, yank his phone out his pocket.

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13:58

The Crew of the Starship Aurora

Your Humble First Mate changed Your Humble First Mate’s name to thte captain

thte captain: fuck 

AuroraMyBeloved: Good job

thte captain: :/

AuroraMyBeloved change thte captain’s name to Tinkerbell

Tinkerbell: KILL YOURSEL

AuroraMyBeloved: YOU DONT MEAN THAT </3

Tinkerbell: no i dont ❣️

AuroraMyBeloved: 🩶

the hanged man: wow, family

Tinkerbell: nah im batman

AuroraMyBeloved: what am i, a dead rat?

Tinkerbell: yes

Almost Gru: I can see why my parents thought you were actually siblings…

the hanged man: no yeah i see it

Tinkerbell: also

Tinkerbell changed Tinkerbell’s name to Captain D’Ville

Captain D’Ville: @AuroraMyBeloved do you work next to that newly opened bagel shop?

AuroraMyBeloved: Yeah why?

Almost Gru: lol we’re doing rehearsal in the park down the road from there

Captain D’Ville: .

Captain D’Ville: tell me you took your lunch already.

AuroraMyBeloved: NO I HAVENT…

Captain D’Ville: FUCK HOW ARE YOU ON YOUR PHONE

AuroraMyBeloved: I work behind the bar. I can sneak on my phone.

Captain D’Ville: NOBODY COME OVER.

the hanged man: JONNY…

Captain D’Ville: FUCK OFF BRAIN

the hanged man: brain

Almost Gru: brain

AuroraMyBeloved: tube sun

Captain D’Ville: SO MEAN TO YOUR CAPTAIN.

Captain D’Ville: FUCK OFF ITS NTO A TUB

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“We should be careful about alleys, it- it is London after all.” Martin states as they reach a particularly dark area of the street despite it being clear as day, “I mean I guess,” Jon grumbles something about litter as he kicks a crisp wrapper away, “But we could totally fight them off, we are the pinnacle of strength and brawn.”

“Aren’t those the same thing?” Sasha puts in her two cents to Tim’s nonsense, who in turn gasps indignantly, “Fine, brains and brawn, you and Jon have the brains and—,” In turn Jon who jams his phone back in his pocket, only a little peeved at his inherently nosy friends, “Tim, I beg to differ about you having the brawn.” 

“What? You’re ganging up on me!” Martin squeezes their hands, looking down at Tim with that soft smile of his. Tim himself just grins back, giving a stupid looking wink, “Fine!!” There’s no particular sounds after that for a minute that isn’t the birds from high above and a rat wiggling in the trash.

Tim thinks for a moment, “I have the winning smile of when you three beat the guy up.” He hums in a finality as no one argues, apparently in a silent agreement that yes, Tim has a pretty face.

Finally out of the alley, they turn down a street that’s a lot more open and cared for, community posters around for the borough they’re in and some open restaurants and cafes bursting with people, all accustomed to the bustle of central London.

“So, Jon…” Sasha pipes up softly, turning her head to shift her gaze from Tim’s rambling towards Martin, who is listening intently and keeping Tim from walking into passerbys to instead watch her boss walk down the road beside her, his gait smaller than everyone else’s but Sasha assumes that’s a mix of his instability in his balance and also his height. 

“Hmm?” The pair slows down just enough to make a good amount of space between them and the other two men, “While I know you stay over at the Archives–” Jon tried to protest, “Ah– Shut it, I know you do. I just… Do you ever eat anything from the break room?” 

Jon shakes his head, picking out some memories of granola bars or instant noodles or crappy porridge he’s brought in when he decides to stay over, to which Sasha just frowns. “I was just thinking…” “Your turn with the brain cell, is it?” Jon just grins at her, trying his hardest to get the conversation away from the stupid cot Jon snuck down into document storage. 

“Shut up, the break room cabinets never have anything in them.” Jon’s facial expression shifts to slight desperation to confusion, “You’d like to restock them? I believed they had hired people for that.” Thinking back, Jon had never seen those cabinets restocked since they started working there, at least in Research there was always a designated guy who went out to restock the snacks with a company card. “I don’t think they do the Archives.” 

Looking up ahead, Sasha calls out to Tim and Martin as they were a couple metres ahead, about to go the wrong direction, “The next left, boys!”, a sigh, “They were doing so well with directions…” Jon just huffs and smiles, starting to get a little antsy about walking this long, his crappy harness technique was proving to be a bit of a nuisance, “When are they ever?”

“You know, Sasha. We can go out, I’m sure Elias won’t mind us heading out to restock our own cabinets,” in turn, Sasha just nods, relief washing over her since Elias creeped her out a little too much to ask him herself, “Yeah! I’m sure Tim-”, who turns his head like he was summoned, resembling an owl.

“WHAT?” he shouts across the small distance, “I get it, Sasha. We’ll all probably enjoy the outing quite a bit.”

Sneaking over, Tim grins as he, still hand in hand with Martin, walks right up to Jon, “What?” 

“Tag.” Off Tim and Martin run down the final road, Tim giggling like a child and Martin running after him, sparing just a glance at Jon before heading after Tim.

Jon does not yelp, he is above such mannerisms— being the one and only avian gives Jon special expectations of himself. Instead, he picks up his cane, throwing it in the air and catching the shaft before running— He lets the adrenaline and wind keep him upright.

Sasha just takes her phone out to take a video.

Chapter Text

When Tim, Jon and Martin all make it to the entrance, panting. Tim grins and pushes the door open, making an off hand comment about their impromptu race, “I think I won,” Martin gasps, trying to sound more offended than exhausted and out of breath, “What? You cheated?! Tim!” 

Jon almost tips over, holding himself up on the door handle; He notes in his head about liquid in the ear that helps balance but he just can’t recall the name of it, something medical. Instead of thinking of all the theory in keeping oneself upright, Jon instead played all his inability to stay vertical to hold the door open for a very pretty lady.

While Tim and Martin bickered just a metre away, in waltzed Sasha with such glamour, so calm, not a speck of sweat on her; It’s Sasha.

“Sasha! You saw the race, I so won!” “You had a head start! I was right there and you yanked me!” “All’s well that ends well!”

People’s eyes burn into Jon’s arm, especially as people start to stare. With no more reason to hold the door open, Jon straightens out and lets the heavy thing slam shut behind him with a small bang, the metal mechanism that’s supposed to close it slowly seems to be missing or overlooked. 

Extending his cane again, (having collapsed the thing while running) to lean on that instead. Stumbling over to Sasha, Jon leans on her just a little, who is so lovely in so many more ways than being the most competent and to Jon’s surprise loops their arms together.

The cafe itself is nothing special; A newly opened bagel shop, clean open floor without a cobweb in sight with a thick light blue stripe painted across the windows. The whole shop hasn’t acquired the other feeling of London, the spray paint that most of the alley walls have, which are tags and graffiti although the occasional mural does show up around the populated city. 

It’s very bright and new, LED lights without any electrical buzzing, spotless tables without any stains or dents from spilt coffee and especially with their employees. They smile politely at every new customer; Jon can spot a sign in the back, just behind the counter that says ‘Remember to smile’. It’s almost ridiculous. There’s a brand new surveillance camera in the other corner from where Jon is standing, Jon almost feels uncomfortable that something is watching him. The feeling’s a little like deja vu.

Most of the seats are full, opening on a busy street does make it one of the first things a driver will see when passing by. Scanning the crowd of people, Jon is able to spot a couple people just leaving from the corner of the cafe. 

The ‘booth’ is two tables pushed together, one chair tucked as far in the corner as possible and two chairs half tucked in while the last looks like it was abandoned— the nerve of some people.

Moving his gaze back towards the options, Jon realises both Tim and Sasha are staring, “Jon? What do you wanna get?” Sasha squeezes his arm just slightly, “Just— Uhm.” Scanning the menu, Jon probably should have put more thought into it but he instead blurts out the first thing he recognises, “BLT?” 

It seems to be a good enough answer as Tim gives him a thumbs up and Sasha pulls him along to the table, leaving Martin and Tim to wait for their food. 

Sasha helps Jon into the corner seat as she sits opposite him, Jon props his cane against the wall behind him. This is the moment Sasha decides to have the conversation, “So, was that…” Jon just shrugs softly before pulling out his phone when he feels it buzz again. 

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14:37

The Crew of the Starship Aurora

TheDuckSong: @Captain D’Ville 1pm at the park down the road from Nastya’s shop? The one by the playground

Captain D’Ville: im still at work :/

TheDuckSong: Not a problem!

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“What has Tim told you?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jon can only see Sasha deflate a little at being caught as a confidant of some secret sharing but she doesn’t give up, she has never done before and will not start now, “Not much, some vague message about being queer.” 

Finally, Jon gets some confirmation about what lie he needs to settle on (or well, half lie: he was in fact trans) “I really should tell him about keeping his mouth shut.” It was as good as twiddling his thumbs since Jon isn’t doing anything with his phone; The vibration was just some message he doesn’t care too much about. He puts it in his pocket.

“You know him,” Sasha has this soft look in her eye as she stares off past the table, curious, Jon flicks his eyes up, Jon catches Tim teaching Martin some ‘secret’ handshake while waiting, he suspects Tim found it on Twitter or Youtube. “I suppose I do,” Exasperated, Jon sighs and nods in agreement as they settle into a comfortable silence.

“I…” He never was good at the whole feelings thing, (how did Georgie put up with him?) he should’ve spent the walk practicing his explanation. “I was just… taking a break?” For goodness sake, Jon took a literature degree in University, he really should’ve been better at this. “It just ached, you know?” The whole situation felt a little like a secret mission; it would if Jon wasn’t busy panicking over his lack of explanation.

“I get it!” Sasha was so understanding, from what standpoint? “I know those things are awful on the ribs,” despite the difference in the point of view, Jon did find it funny how uncannily similar the two things were. “I know I don’t have the best—” “You don’t.” 

The pair stare at each other for a moment, brown eyes meeting hazel ones before inevitably Sasha is the one to break, grinning softly and her eyes upturn just that slight bit that Jon always notices, “Thanks.” Jon huffs at the interruption but it lacks any actual anger, “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

Confused, Jon tilts his head just a bit. “...What?” He pauses. Jon is baffled to say the least. Growing up, he was always told ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t an answer, how there was always an explanation. Sasha continues, “You don’t have to.” Her voice was calm, certain— entirely unlike how Jon has been at work lately, “I get it, I know what you’re like,” Fond, Jon could pick it up in her voice, despite his usual blindness to that sort of cue. “Rude.” “Jon.” “What?”

Shifting in his seat, Jon feels uncomfortable and it’s not because of his shoddy dressing from the office. “It’s fine. Just give us a notice?” Jon groans and leans back in his chair, “Yes, Tim told me back at the Institute.” “Great minds think alike,” and like that Tim and Martin seem to have magically appeared beside the table with a tray of their bagels. 

Martin takes a seat next to Jon as Tim immediately claims the seat by Sasha before dishing out the bagels like he’s a waiter at a Michelin star restaurant, “And for the beautiful lady?” Rolling her eyes, Sasha plays along, “Oh, me?” She bats her eyes and flicks her hair. “The turkey melt?” Humming, Tim grins, finally sitting down to dish the rest out.

Beginning to chew down on his BLT, quickly learning Jon would rather it without the tomatoes and he silently wishes to pick them out.

So he does. Although, instead of the usual ignorance Tim and Sasha grant him the privilege of, Martin makes eye contact with Jon.

“Uh—” Jon goes to try to explain something unnecessary for the second time that day, “No— It’s fine. Do… Do you want a hand for that?” Again, for the second time today Jon is being stunned to silence by just a couple words, he didn’t even notice his hands were shaking, how tightly was he gripping his cane? “Please— Thank you.”

Martin puts his own bagel in the little paper wrapping it came in before helping Jon with something so basic Jon should realistically feel embarrassed. He does. Obviously, he does, but Martin has been so helpful and unconditionally kind for these stupid kinds of requests. “All done!” “Right. Thank you, again.” All the tomato slices were placed in a tissue just to the side of Jon.

“Oh!” The table makes a little bang on impact as Tim smacks it with his hand that’s not holding the bagel that looks like it’s about to drip some sort of sauce, “Who won?” 

“Oh,” Jon has to think back to an hour or so ago, noting every single task, its importance, its quality, quantity etc, “I think it was Sasha, Martin then you.”

“This is an outrage.” “I’m sure it is.” Sasha was smug as Jon handed her the last of his sweets and Tim would have blown a raspberry if Sasha and Martin hadn’t scolded him about spitting in their food.

“Anyway! Jon, we’re all planning on heading out at the end of the week.” “Mhm?” Another bite out of his bagel, he did like the place, despite the fact it was still quick busy, it was winding down as lunch passed by. “I mean, you wanna tag along?”

It takes a second to register, but Jon had already answered without thinking, “Busy.” “Come on, Jon…” Tim just groans in almost disbelief that he had any plans at all, “We gotta hit it off! We haven’t exploded the Archives yet.” That was a low bar, even for Jon, “Yes, quite the herculean task. Not blowing up a book.” 

Another bite, this one Jon has to peel back the paper again, getting to the point where he’s deciding whether to save the rest for later or just get his soup again from the fridge. 

“I do have plans.” Glaring up at Tim, who was unnecessarily pushy about this, Jon briefly wonders what this outing could be so important for even Tim to want him so badly to come out, “I mean, you don’t have to come…” even more when Martin is a voice of reason. “It’s just some uh…” Trailing off, Martin loses his train of thought and looks towards the other pair at the other side of the table. “Bonding,” Sasha chimes in as well, “We haven’t gone out much since we all got transferred!” 

“I suppose that is fair but I have predetermined plans for Friday and subsequently the weekend.” With how outings with the Mechanisms go, Jon is almost certain he’ll wake up drunk and at someone’s house.

“That’s okay! We can manage, right?” Martin just grins softly, only a tinge sad before Tim hums, “Next week?” Tim pushes back again. What is Jon meant to do? Never interact with his coworkers again if he screws up? …maybe. “I… suppose I can make that happen.” Jon can almost see his near future where he regrets this decision as he watches Tim pump his fists in the air and by any adjective, do a little jig.

Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought— A twitch in his feathers said otherwise.

“Hey, Jonny!” 

Recognising that voice didn’t need any extra knowledge, any sight or hidden social cues: Jonathan Sims’ honorary sister. 

Jon decides now he's fucked.

Chapter Text

Sasha spots her first: a rather tall girl, straightened brown hair that fades into a lovely blue-ish turquoise at the ends. She’s dressed like she works behind the bar, a black polo with sun damage lines that show where an apron would usually sit. She also sweats like she just left said bar.

Only briefly, Sasha wished Elias allowed hair like that.

If anything, Sasha recognises the cog symbol on the breast of the blackened shirt the woman is wearing, the steampunk pub that is only a couple shops down from the bagel shop. Sasha had never been inside, being busy and not quite her usual environment but the place has always been relatively intriguing to her. 

Plus the prospect itself has always sparked that small bit of curiosity in her that wasn’t being used for immoral internet stalking (and small breaks of the computer misuse act).

For a split second, Sasha wonders if Jon had been mistaken for another person, which would usually be the best excuse but that was before the woman spoke up, leaning right over the table to Jon’s seat,

“Jonny.” Said man had his head leaning down on the table, bagel promptly shoved in his mouth to avoid talking. It doesn’t work and all that comes out of that debacle is an awkward silence.

“Hi Nas’,” his words are muffled in lieu of the bagel but she can tell. 

The mysterious woman pulls up a nearby chair, waving at some of the workers. “I regret telling you,” resentment fuels Jon’s voice as he lazily leans his head back up at the woman, who is entirely undeterred at her brother’s unkind words.

Jon swallows the last of his bagel.

“Well you did. And I’m here now.” Jon just makes an uncomfortable noise behind his arms as Sasha looks at Tim, confused. “Sorry, who are you?” Shrugging, the woman takes a quick picture of Jon for the group chat and grins cheekily, “Anastasia— Nastya” 

“My awful sister,” Jon finally sits back up; leaning down never does graces for his back, “You’re adopted.” Like the very mature person Tim is, he does not burst out laughing, snickering behind a hand is much more grown up (Jon does in fact glare at him).

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14:48

The Crew of the Starship Aurora

AuroraMyBeloved: [Attached one photo of the corner-bound four seater, Jonny in the far corner, yet the centre of the photo. He is leaning his head down on folded arms, cheeks full as he chews on his bagel in shame. Martin almost looks concerned at the moment, directly next to Jon and Sasha is only seen at the corner of the photo but she is practically staring right at the camera, if not directly at Nastya herself.]

AuroraMyBeloved: Look who i found

Almost Gru: oh

Almost Gru: OH hey… where are you *flicks hair cooly*

AuroraMyBeloved: going off real quick jonny has cool friends

TheDuckSong: Woah, ignored the majestic hair flick

the hanged man: Nastya’s a lesbian, I’d assume she would

Captain D’Ville: shes gone so im here now :D 

Captain D’Ville: @Almost Gru i like your hair tim 🫶

Almost Gru: thanks Jonny

so many books but no backstory: I’m glad to see Nastya getting along with them!

Captain D’Ville: thank

Captain D’Ville: i thkn shes gonna steal one of them

Almost Gru: can i meet them next??

Captain D’Ville: no

TheDuckSong: Who is Nastya talking to?

Captain D’Ville: the one in the jumper next to mw brownoragen type hair

Toy Soldier: He Looks Quite Splendid! 

Captain D’Ville: oh hi soldier

Toy Soldier: Hello Jonny!

Captain D’Ville: brb

TheDuckSong: So… about kidnapping Jonny.

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For just a second Tim does blank out, his mind turns to Danny; It turns to the circus. 

He wonders whether he could’ve had a relationship like this, a sibling one: The banter, the fun. Growing up to love each other or hate each other.

Tim briefly wonders if they would have grown apart or closer, his mind spiraling around the possibilities and what if’s.

You know: If he didn’t die. 

This moment does not last long though as Nastya and Martin are almost immediate friends over instrument lessons as children— piano and violin respectively. “I mean… I don’t- I don’t think I’m too good at it now— I’m uh really rusty…” 

“I still play. I play viola more often.” 

“Oh, really?”

Through all of this, Jon just sulks in his chair, face buried deep in his phone. 

He’s not that mad, no. He loves Nastya, she’s like an actual sister to him. Jon trusts her to not spill any news about the Mechanisms. He’s glad his coworkers are getting along with her! 

Okay. Maybe he’s a little annoyed. Good news Nastya won’t take it to heart, the Mech’s know when he’s actually serious at least; Uni really was an enlightening time.

It’s the others he’s worried about.

Chapter Text

Nonetheless, Nastya has to leave at some point; She only has so long a break and Jon can only get them so long a lunch. Despite Jon’s complete disagreement, his sister demands all their numbers, especially Martin’s— Jon expects to see the man at the next movie night if he lets his guard down.

As they approach the exit of the shop, Nastya takes his hand and shoves her phone in his face with this god awful grin that immediately tells Jon that this is either going to be detrimental to his mental state or something about her current girlfriend. He can’t tell which, when bright light is shining directly in his retinas “What— What is it? I…” Jon pulls his face back, squinting. He ever so slightly pulls his head back, complaining, “I can’t fucking read it if it’s right there.” 

The notes app, Jon’s pupils dilate at the blue light as he reaches up to snatch the phone out Nastya’s hands with a bit more vigour as he needed.

‘Check your texts’, dread fills Jon’s body faster than his wings unfurl when he’s jumpy. What could it be? 

Scrambling with his phone, Jon almost drops it multiple times in the single hand he’s chosen to yank it out his pocket before staring face to face with Raphaella La Cognizi’s lovely text. He glances back and forth between the two phones, looking like he’s cross-referencing the screens before his gaze settles back on Nastya. Jon is not pleased.

“Bye, Jonny.” With that Nastya snatches her phone back and leaves, slipping out the door and back up the road to the pub.

“Fuck.”

Just like that, Nastya has fled the scene and Jon is left with his coworkers to head back to the institute. 

Almost immediately, Jon’s head is full of all the escape routes from his office, timing, predictions of when she’ll come. He thinks of imaginary scenarios where he slips right out before Raph comes into the building— Would they even let her down into the archives? Maybe he could ask Rosie to inform him when she shows up? Why would she even agree to that? Do they even know that he’s keeping his wings on the downlow?

But just as fast as he’d lost himself in his thoughts, Jon is yanked right out again when he remembers where he is: The Bagel shop. Fantastic.

Jon should too— Head back that is. Stretching up, his hands reach for the ceiling and his back pops; The movement doesn’t give as much reprieve for the ache in the base of his wings. He also knows they will complain about it but he will digress.

“Come on!” At some point, Tim just appears in front of Jon holding his hand out. “We still have 15 whole minutes.” Nodding in agreement, or maybe just in acknowledgement, Jon shifts his cane to his dominant— having it in his left to hold Nastya’s phone securely and takes Tim’s hand. 

The door of the shop shuts behind them, Martin having his phone out already and talking with Sasha, “This way?” “Yeah,” and off they go; down the street and Jon’s head turns as they stroll right past the turn into the initial alleyway they’d come by in. Looks like they were taking a detour.

“I’m actually erm… glad we’re going this way!” Martin blurts out to the group when they cross the main road towards what Jon recalls as some park, “I mean— It’s a nice walk!” The man just plays with the cuffs of his jumper, in between the pieces slightly fraying from the perpetual picking and fidgeting. Martin then glances up to Sasha, “Just… my Mum told me loads about the whole knife-crime stuff here.” 

Sasha just hums in brief though. The gate opens with a loud creak, scaring off any birds nearby; the outside world being rough and harsh on un-oiled joints, “Don’t get me wrong, I love the city.” Walking a few paces ahead with Martin so Tim can take over to help Jon through it, who’s as awkward as ever about keeping the thing open and walking through at the same time (Sue him, usually he has two extra limbs to hold things open). 

A squirrel passes by and Martin follows it with his eye before Sasha continues, she laughs under her breath as her own eyes trail up towards the sky before heading back towards Martin, “I mean, the air pollution does most of the work.” “Right, yeah… haha, London.”

“Working at the Institute messes with you.” Turning her head, Sasha checks up on the two lads that should be following them, Martin follows suit for a second before returning to the conversation. “I get this…” Sasha sighs as the words die on the tip of her tongue, her hand coming up to mess with one clump of loose hair near her face, Martin watching her with this soft smile, “It’s like I’m being watched.”

“I know!” Martin groans, undoubtedly relieved he isn’t the only member of staff who’s experiencing the feeling, “I’ve uh… asked David about it and he hasn’t even noticed!” 

Martin continues to complain about all the freaky statements he’s found in the place, “It uh— reminds me of those old horror games from the 2000s…” Only a little embarrassed over the stupid analogy from his later childhood, Martin tries to recount the tales of Slenderman or any of the SCP Foundation. “Maybe one of these days I’ll just come across one of the monsters in those.” 

“Who knows, Martin.” Sasha doesn’t even bat an eye at his awkwardness, something that Martin is very grateful for, “Maybe it’s someone here!” “Maybe it’s all of us… in a way”

“Spooky!” Again, Tim just appears, one hand out in a sort of shitty jazz hands, Jon in his other hand, just slightly intrigued.

Silence. Sasha glances at Tim suspiciously and Tim looks back, a stupid grin on his face. Jon looks at Martin, confused. Jon raises an eyebrow and Martin can’t help but look into Jon’s eyes, the hazel inside that really leans more black than any other of the variants. Tim then speaks up. 

“...What’re we talking about?” 

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14:56

The Crew Of The Starship Aurora

Captain D’Ville: heading back now :) 

Captain D’Ville: wait…

Captain D’Ville: RAPH I KNOW YOU’RE GONNA GET ME…

theDuckSong deleted one message

TheDuckSong: i didnt say anything.

Captain D’Ville: i saw it already

TheDuckSong: oh

TheDuckSong: how was lunch

Captain D’Ville: lovely until resident lesbian over there decided to ‘strike up some covernsation’

TheDuckSong: Yeah

Almost Gru: can;t relate

Captain D’Ville: L no siblings

Captain D’Ville: wait thats more an L form e

Almost Gru: L i never had to share my shit

Captain D’Ville: id gadfdgHFIELWS

Almost Gru: oh shit he died

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Contrary to popular belief, Jonny did not die. His wings did try to flare up and out to catch him but obviously to no avail, just tugging at his harness as he fell forwards. It reminded him (only for a moment) about the wind running through his hair when he’d drop from a building, falling from stories high, picking up speed before flying up, up, up back into the sky again. 

But no. That is not what happens. Jon knows this because after about a second his face is met with gravel and mud.

This is because he, instead of falling dead, did in fact trip over a dog, his mind tells him it’s a beagle. It doesn’t actually matter what dog it is because Jon is face down and eating shit, (not literally, thank the eye).

“Jon!” Martin is dragging him up by the armpits like a sad, disgruntled cat and checking his face while Tim loses it somewhere in front, hands on his knees witnessing what he considers the pinnacle of humour. “No– It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

Tim, as sneaky as he thinks he is, takes a photo of when Jon was lying face down on the floor, Jon’s 90% sure he thinks he was subtle about it. 

Kicking his legs, Jon tries to swivel out of Martin’s hold, fighting every movement that moves anywhere close to his shoulder-blades despite Martin only checking his face.

Looking up, Jon’s eyes glances towards the owner, a lovely looking woman, who looks absolutely mortified over someone tripping over her beagle; in reality, he wasn’t paying attention. “My bad.” He takes a large breath as Martin, soft hands and expression checks he didn’t actually break his nose.

“Martin…” Jon protests weakly as Sasha, who previously was laughing at Jon’s expense as all good friends do, (Georgie can advocate for that, Jon is offended at her priorities 90% of the time. She does not need to laugh at him when he falls into a bush, drunk). 

Although Sasha, who is not Georgie, does get over her own laughs, instead reducing herself to slight giggles and hands Jon his cane back, which had fallen on the floor. 

“So mean to me.” Only a few moments pass before Martin and Sasha (when she renders herself out of giggles to help) deem him fine before putting him back down to walk again. 

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15:05

Timmy created Untitled

Timmy added Sasha Holmes

Timmy added KarTEAn

Timmy added QueerInEngineer

Timmy renamed the group chat In Association w/Jon

Sasha Holmes: Timmy big words over here

Timmy: why thank you kind madam

Timmy: [Image Attached: Jon. His legs half up on a confused beagle, who looks very happy to be there, phone a good metre away from his hands and face flat in some mud while the owner profusely apologises in the background]

QueerInEngineer: thisi s mine now

Timmy: pleasure doing tbusiness with you

Sasha Holmes: wlw and mlm friendship goes hard

Sasha Holmes has changed Sasha Holmes’s name to the Rationality

Rationality has changed Timmy’s name to Idiocy

Rationality: perfect 

15:13

The Crew Of The Starship Aurora

AuroraMyBeloved: [Image Attached. Jon]

AuroraMyBeloved: [Image Attached x2]

AuroraMyBeloved: [Image Attached x3]

Captain D’Ville: nas please

AuroraMyBeloved: [Image Attached x4]

TheDuckSong: Wait this is so fire

Almost Gru: new reaction image gained

Almost Gru: [Image Attached x5 but its taglined ‘when you go to work after a concert and have a massive hangover’]

Captain D’Ville: why musr we all bully nme :(

the hanged man: youre blowing my phone up

Captain D’Ville: wait how did you get that

Captain D’Ville: nastya

Almost Gru: nastya addme ples

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Chapter Text

Jon sighs. He pockets his phone, it weighs almost nothing compared to the block on his back. Contrary to a couple of minutes ago, the walk has taken a much more relaxed feel, heading up towards one of the smaller rivers in the park.

The cold breeze runs through Jon’s hair, which gives him a strange sense of nostalgia… He just can’t quite put his finger on why. 

Maybe it’s the lack of flying he’s been doing since he moved to London. He sighs softly, remembering the proper woosh of wind through his tied hair, the airplane goggles that he wore, which weren’t much different than the steampunk ones he wears now for the band, when he flew through the forest near his house. 

He recalls one scrunchie he found on the floor in his early teens that ended up being the only thing that’d keep his hair tied; his grandma only ever had those flimsy black hair ties that snapped in Jon’s thick locks.

When Jon finally returns to the now, he realises he’s started to stray from the group. Sasha and Tim heading further up the path while he and Martin walk together, lagging behind just slightly.

The group has been walking along the riverbed. Tim strays closer to the water than anyone else; Sasha, who seems to be premeditating something, has to link their arms to deny Tim the fun of skinny dipping. In turn, Tim complains. Loudly.

Despite the absurdity Jon can’t tell if it’s a joke or not. 

No, Tim is not a child. Although, Jon regards him as very close to one: Eccentric, confident, can’t sit still but unlike child fashion he does not jump into the stream, instead going to try rock skip with some sedimentary rocks that have deposited on the corners of the river and when that does not pan out since it’s not still water he collects some other rocks.

The stream isn’t that deep, a couple inches at the most and Tim finds it fascinating taking a moment to bend down and grab anything particularly shiny, handing all his prized possessions to Sasha.

Some pieces are washed up pieces of rock, smooth and sanded down by the collisions in the water. Others are straight up litter, a very not-natural plastic duck was also picked up. 

Jon is in no way particularly impressed but… Martin smiles at Tim in a way Jon just for a moment; A moment of weakness thinks about picking up a piece of what is in every way trash from the floor. Call it a bad feather-y habit.

Tilting his head back, Jon relishes in the sights during this time of year: the sun beams on his face, and the late August wind makes the temperature just right for him. Despite all the discomfort his wings give him, the Archivist finds delight within these small moments. 

Although, in these small moments is also the time things go the worst for Jon. “Uh… Tim? You’re drifting there.” Tilting his head, Martin notices Tim’s wonky walking; Every second Tim strays just a bit further from the trail.

In all honesty, Jon wasn’t going to say anything. He watches intently as Tim turns his head to look very quizzically at Martin. This being a complete mistake as now Tim’s shoes are treading on very thin ice and more literally the pebbles on the side of the stream.

In complete defense of Sasha, she does try to tighten their arms closer but nonetheless their resident dress code violation finds a way. “What did you say, Mar— Oh shiit–”

One of the pebbles locks onto an aglet of Tim’s very unprofessional, not proper for an office setting shoes, and pulls them undone. This then gets caught under the same shoe and well…

Pop goes the weasel.

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“How are you, riverboy?” Sasha hums as she watches Martin hand Tim a cuppa, two sugars with but a splash of milk.

All the while Tim, who’s shirtless, with an electric blanket that loosely hangs around his shoulders. He sits cross-legged in the least dusty corner of the archives by the radiator. 

All the while he mourns his very drenched Hawaiian shirt, which is drying overtop the radiator: Not more than two metres away.

Jon walks out his office and sighs, tapping the soggy garment. “Maybe it’s karma,” He gains a very satisfied grin as Tim gives Jon this incredulous look. “You know, for the absolute harlot you are just by wearing this shirt.” 

Tim scoffs, holding the tea close. “I’ll have you know that shirt was at least £6.99 from H&M.” Rolling his eyes, Jon walks back into his office to glance back at his emails. On the other hand, sitting beside him, Sasha just grins, pulling her laptop onto her legs. 

“This seat taken?” Tim just grins, scooting over so his oh so favourite co worker can sit with him, “No, ma’am it is not.” 

Soon enough all four archive workers were sitting on the floor like a bunch of primary schoolers: Tim and Sasha in the corner while Jon and Martin sat opposite them, Martin and Sasha using the sockets for their laptops. 

Tim provides some colour commentary for whatever Sasha’s doing and Jon has a box of statements nearby. “Some of these are absurd.” Jon groans and complains about some of the statements they keep. “A google shows-” Smacking the paper, with this inane look in his eye that means Jon’s about to go on some rant. Tim tries to cover a snort up with a cough but Jon catches him and raises an eyebrow. 

“Nothing! Go on, just read some to us and we can play ‘is it real or–’” Jon butts in, leaning forward to point to a word that may or may not say chicken butt, “Or is it a drunken dare to write so illegible I can’t read it!”

The next hour until 4:30pm is filled with Tim putting on exaggerated voices. His immaculate voice acting conveying sorrow and anger off literature that was more or less written by a 4 year old. 

The first statement was written by a 16 year old for a horror competition for a local school while the next was accompanied by a crude picture of a halloween decoration. The next dozen ‘statements’ always have something new and somehow equally stupid written upon the paper. The transcript ones quickly became the worst, way too many plot holes and the group continued to treat the game like it was their job to be GCSE English examiners.

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16:42

In Association w/Jon

QueerInEngineer added BertieOurMoonWeed

BertieOurMoonWeed changed BertieOurMoonWeed’s name to Moon Weed

Moon Weed: Jonny the typa guy to look at my bestie and go is anybody gonna eat that and not wait for an answer

KarTEAn: sorry what

Idiocy: so real my guy

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