Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Martin stayed at the Institute to help set up for the holiday party. Jon had stopped by his office before heading home himself to change. Martin had teased him about dressing up when he’d never put any effort into mandated events before.

“You wouldn’t even wear a Christmas jumper.”

“Well maybe I’m taking the time to enjoy the novelties of an office party.” Jon rounded Martin’s desk to cup his face. Martin turned to him and his hands came to rest on Jon’s waist. “Or maybe I felt like looking nice for someone.”

“You know you don’t have to dress up for me Jon.”

“I know dear. I’m doing this because I want to.” Jon traced constellations between Martin’s freckles with his thumbs. Martin melted into his touch with a gentle sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Jon pressed a kiss to his forehead before resting his own forehead against his love’s. “May I kiss you?”

Martin met Jon’s eyes, studying the layers of color in his irides. “Please do.”

Jon tilted Martin’s head, guiding him into a kiss. Martin tasted of artificial cherry and bergamot and his hands were broad and warm as they drew Jon closer. Jon drew back just enough to see the flush on Martin’s cheeks before peppering kisses to every freckle he could find. Martin giggled breathlessly at his boyfriend and anchored his hands on Jon’s hips. Jon started nosing at Martin’s jaw.

“Jon, either you stop now or you’re not going to have time to change.”

Jon huffed, unhappy to have his path of rediscovery interrupted, “I’ll have plenty of time, I can get ready fast.”

“Yes, but I also know you planned to have excess time and you hate feeling rushed when you have an outfit planned.”

“Damn you for being sweet and observant and conscientious.” Jon dropped a kiss on Martin’s nose and kissed off the last of his chapstick. 

Martin cupped the back of his neck with a hand, pulled him down to kiss his cheek, and gave him a sunbeam smile. “Get out of my office before I get Rosie to escort you out.”

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to go to the nuclear option, I’m going.” Jon brushed a stray curl back from Martin’s forehead. “Is there anything you want me to bring you?”

“Thank you dear but no. I already grabbed an appropriately festive jumper.”

“Appropriately festive?” Jon quirked an eyebrow.

“Snowmen are non-denominational.” 

Jon snorted and waved a goodbye before he tried to spend his waning time in Martin’s lap. He had work to do.

He’d showered and dressed with a care he hadn’t taken in a while. Leaning over the bathroom sink to apply eyeliner reminded him of his uni days; the buzzing excitement of performing soothed by the methodical process of getting ready. Well, maybe he was a touch out practice blending his eyeshadow but the eyeliner would still be sharp. He grabbed the water-proof mascara and considered it. It’d help draw attention to his eyes like he wanted. However, he knew his eyelashes would brush his glasses lenses, an annoyance he would have to fight to ignore. His glasses were folded on the nightstand with their chain coiled beside them. 

He didn’t actually need them to see. He hadn’t needed them since he’d woken up from his coma, a glaring sign in hindsight, but he liked wearing them. They reminded him of his time in Research, fresh out of college and more human than ever. Tim had given him the chain as a jokey gift to match his “grandma librarian vibes.” Jon had immediately attached the chain to his glasses and rarely took it off.

Jon twisted off the mascara’s top. He’d go without the glasses tonight. Being with Martin was more than enough to remind him what humanity felt like.

The party started at seven so Vicky and Jon had agreed to meet in the Archives at 6:45. Apparently she’d already been planning to arrive early to show her roommate around. Jon descended into the Archives and heard voices in the distance.

He picked out Vicky’s first. “And this is obviously my favorite room down here.”

“When you called it a nest I thought you were exaggerating.” That must be the roommate. “Damn Vicks, and I thought my job was nice. What kind of degree do you need to work here?”

The door to the sleeping room was open, spilling warm light into the dark hallway. “That depends on which department you’re aiming for.”

“Actually,” Jon leaned against the doorframe, “you’d be surprised how far you could get with common sense and enough diligence.” Vicky and her roommate were settled into a bundle of blankets and pillows. “No degree required.”

The roommate, who had vibrant pink streaks in their choppy bob, elbowed Vicky. “You didn’t tell me he was hot too.”

“It’s not really worth mentioning.” Vicky untangled herself from the blankets and her roommate. “He usually can’t be arsed to dress in clothes that fit him and he’s completely besotted with his partner.” She grabbed a hairbrush from a cabinet and turned to Jon. “Did I use that right?”

“Arguably, expletives are not bound by the common laws of grammar, so if you said it and you meant it, you said it right.”

“Jon please,” Vicky stuck her tongue out at him, “Mia, this is my boss.”

Mia stood and brushed off the skirt of their dress. Jon idly wondered if either of them realized that Mia’s dress matched Vicky’s blouse. “Mia Jones, she/her pronouns only please.” She stuck a hand out to shake.

Jon gave her a firm shake, “Jonathan SIms, the Archivist. He/him or they/them.”

“I’m thinking a single braid down the back. If you’ve got any special accessories hand ‘em over now.”

Jon traded her a box for the hairbrush and sat down. He’d brushed his hair at home but the journey back to the Institute hadn’t done him any favors. Vicky took over quickly. “What’s your job, Mia?”

“Oh, I’m technically a music producer but these days I’m usually doing audio editing for content creators. I get to set my own schedule and stuff so that’s cool.”

Vicky chimed into their conversation occasionally but focused most of her attention on securing the golden eye pins in his developing braid. Mia was interesting. He could see how she and Vicky moved in sync, comfortable in each other’s company.

Vicky finished his braid with a tug. “You better keep this intact. I refuse to be held responsible if you lose any of these pins.”

“Thank you Vicky.”

“You might want to reapply your lip gloss, I’m grabbing the camera.” Vicky tugged Mia into the bullpen.

“What camera?” Mia raised her eyebrows at Jon.

Vicky nudged Mia in front of the cork board. “You’ll see. Say cheese!”

Mia stuck a pose, one hand on a cocked hip and a foot extended to show off her floral combat boots. Vicky snapped a few photos with the polaroid camera. Mia traded positions with her and Vicky smiled with her hands in the pockets of her slacks.

Vicky stepped away from the spot with a flourish, “Mr. Sims, please grant us a photo.”

“And how am I to pose, Ms. Groves?” He grinned at her. “My last professional photoshoot was of a very different nature.”

“Just stand there you big drama queen and do what I say.”

Jon let himself be directed by the two women into several poses as the camera clicked.

“Damn Jon, I wish I was this photogenic.” Mia was making arrays with the photos.

He looked over them and couldn’t help but think that Vicky and Mia’s poses fit together. He’d never been overly fond of seeing himself in pictures but photography had always fascinated him. He could see the aesthetic appeal, almost, of the Jon in the polaroids.

The smaller details weren’t as concrete. However, the crisp lines of his dark olive slacks and matching waistcoat were distinct. He’d rolled up the cuffs of his shirtsleeves at Vicky’s suggestion and there was a photo of him in the act, smirking at the camera. They’d gotten profile shots “to show off his makeup skills” and it displayed the braid well. He liked the contrast between right and left. His right side had a simple golden stud and the grey streaks were less prominent. His left side had a larger emerald earring that dangled on a golden chain and heavier grey streaks. It was remarkable how different two sides of the same face could be.

Vicky slid the photos of Jon into a neat stack, “Thank you for this Jon, these are perfect.”

“What exactly do you need pictures of me for?”

“Christmas gift for Martin.”

“Who’s Martin?” Mia collected the pictures of herself and Vicky, tucking them into a pocket on her jacket.

Vicky froze, Jon met her gaze and saw the question in her eyes. “My boyfriend.” Jon answered for her. 

“Please tell me he’s upstairs and I get to meet him.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find him at some point. Speaking of, it’s probably time we make our way upstairs.” Jon waved a hand at the ceiling. “The party awaits.”