Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jon walked up to Martin’s office and knocked on the door. “Martin. It’s me, open up.”

Martin groaned. He didn’t have time for this - he had to be Lonely. “Go away.”

Jon kicked the door. “Let me in.”

“No.”

Jon spoke in a sing-song voice, “Martin, I was in a coma. You shouldn’t be making me kick the door!”

“Go away.”

Jon kicked the door again, continuing his sing-song voice. “But I will anyway!” Kick. Kick.

“GO AWAY!”

Kick.

“JON!” Martin marched up to the door and flung it open, looking down into the smirking face of a man who’d up until very recently been all but dead. A man whom he loved. But he didn’t have time for this. “Do you have no respect for when other people are working?”

Jon shrugged, non-chalant. “Martin, I’ve been dead for six months watching people’s traumas terrorize them over and over again while I was powerless to help. My life was basically one endless existential hell. I don’t really have much respect for anything at the moment and I’ve half lost it. Honestly -” he chuckled bitterly, “it’s a shock that I’m as coherent as I am right now.”

Martin felt a pang of sympathy. Poor Jon. But no - he didn’t have time for this. He had to be Lonely. “Jon. You were dead.”

“Martin. I came back.”

“And I’m not going to let that happen again.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “... Which part?”

“What?”

“Me dying or me coming back?”

Martin let out a bitter chuckle. “Both, I guess, seeing as you have to die to come back.”

Jon sighed. “Martin. I just woke up from being dead and I don’t even get a hug? I woke up to Basira and Georgie but… they weren’t very nice. Georgie basically told me she wished I was brain-damaged and stalked off without saying goodbye. Basira was her normal rude self and was unsympathetic. Melanie welcomed me by throwing a mug at my head and saying she wished I was dead. Basira was, once again, unsympathetic. I didn’t expect a welcome party, sure but… frankly, coming back has sucked even more than I’d have expected.”

Martin winced. Had everyone really been that mean to him? But he mustn’t show any weakness. He shrugged. “Sorry.”

Jon looked hurt. “...Sorry? That’s… that’s it?”

“That’s it.” Martin stepped back from the door and closed it in his face, locking it.

Jon decided this wasn’t the time to worry about being professional. He pounded on the door, screaming. “LET ME IN! LET ME IN MARTIN BLACKWOOD OR SO HELP ME I’LL -”

Martin threw the door open. “WHAT?!? You’ll what, Jon? Get yourself killed again? Because I’ve already been through that once.”

Jon crossed his arms. “You can’t block me out like this, Martin.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Oh, I rather think I can.” He closed and locked the door again. Jon began to pound at it with his fists, screaming again.

“LET ME IN! LET ME IN! LET ME IN!” Then he wondered why he was letting a simple lock stop him - he was, after all, good at breaking and entering. He quickly took the credit card out of his wallet and wiggled it in the door until it popped open. Heh.

Martin sat up with a start as Jon walked into his office. “J-Jon? Go away!”

Jon smirked and shook his head. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Martin.”

“Y-you… s-shoo! Shoo!” Martin waved his hands at him like he was a bug he wanted to chase off.

Jon smirked. “Martin.”

“Get out of here! Shoo! Scram!”

Jon crossed his arms and continued smirking. “No.”

Martin gave an exasperated sigh. “Do I need to get a squirt bottle? Because I will.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Um, excuse me?”

Martin nodded. “Mhm. If you don’t get out of my office right this second I will squirt you with a squirt bottle like you’re a disobedient cat.”

Jon gave him a half incredulous, half amused look. “You don’t really mean that.”

Martin reached down onto his desk and picked up, sure enough, a squirt bottle. He pointed it at Jon’s face and held it six inches away. “This is your last chance, Jon. Get out.”

Jon shrugged and smirked. “Take your best shot, Martin.”

Spray.

Jon wrinkled his nose and winced as a mist of water hit his face. “Rude.”

Spray.

Jon sneezed and wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to remain composed. “Wow.”

Spray.

Jon raised an eyebrow. “How long are you going to -”

Spray.

“Martin -”

Spray. Spray. Spray.

Jon sneezed again and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Martin, why -”

Spray. “Get out of here. Bad Archivist. Shoo.”

“Martin, no -”

Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray.

“M-Martin, please -”

Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Spray. Mist. Mist.

Jon smirked. “Run out of water, have you?”

Martin sputtered. “N-no, this… this was supposed to work!”

Jon cackled. “You think I haven’t learned from the best? I love cats, Martin.”

Martin groaned. “Get out!”

“Nope!” Jon cheerily smiled at him and brushed wet hair out of his face. “Too bad, you’re stuck with me!”

Martin groaned again and ran his hands through his hair. “Jon, just go. Away.”

Jon shook his head. “Nope!”

“UGHHHHH!” Martin looked down at his desk and a grim expression crossed his face. Then, seemingly coming to a decision, he picked up the thermos of cold tea on his desk and lifted it. “Jon. This is your last warning.”

Jon shrugged and continued smiling at him cheerily. “And I’m going to continue telling you, I’m not going anyw-”

Martin dumped the thermos on Jon’s head and he let out a yelp as the cold liquid poured down his head and neck and soaked his shirt. Martin crossed his arms. “You done?”

Jon convulsed with a full-body shiver and looked at Martin with an unreadable expression for several seconds. Finally he spoke. “I’m going to go take a shower.” He left the room and Martin breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness.

Jon smirked to himself as he walked down the hall, even as he shivered. He’d just have to remember to wear a raincoat with a hood tomorrow. He’d be ready.

Chapter Text

When Martin opened the door to see Jon in a full length raincoat and sealed lab goggles he knew he was in for a long morning. He let out a long sigh. “Jon.”

Jon smirked at him. “Hello Martin. Good morning.”

“Can you please leave me alone?”

Jon pushed past him into his office. “Nope!”

“UGH!” Martin put his head in his hands. He did not have the energy to deal with this today. “Jon, I’m only going to say this once. Go. Away.” Jon ignored him and proceeded to walk to the back of the room where he began to pick up and examine the contents of a bookshelf. Martin glared. “GET OUT!” Jon opened and began flipping through a book, pointedly ignoring him.

Martin’s gaze fixed on the rug Jon was standing on. Heh. He crouched down and began to drag it towards the door and Jon lost his balance, falling onto his backside with an “oof!” Martin gave him a passing glance to make sure he wasn’t dead and finished dragging the rug outside into the hall, quickly stepping past him and closing the door in his face.

“And stay out!”

Jon looked towards the door, grimacing as he rubbed at his now sore backside. He hadn’t expected this. No matter - this was hardly the meanest anyone had been to him in the past year. Honestly this was pretty tame, comparatively. And he wouldn’t even scar. It was nothing. It still hurt as he pushed himself to his feet and stood shakily outside Martin’s door. He briefly considered knocking but figured that Martin would probably just tell him to go away. He didn’t even need to be the Archivist to figure that out. No, he’d simply barge in.

He beamed at Martin as he pushed the door open and limped over to where he was sitting at his desk. Martin looked up and raised an eyebrow, a flash of guilt crossing his face as he noted the limp that hadn’t been present before. Had he done that? No matter - the man needed to respect his boundaries. Unfortunately Jonathan Sims had the understanding of personal boundaries that a cat does - he understood that they existed, sure, but he just didn’t care. He also had the vague sense that he was adorable enough to get away with it. He took off his goggles to help with this - he Knew Martin thought he had pretty eyes.

…

Basira had to admit she was curious how Jon's mission to bring Martin back would go. She herself had been trying to bring him away from Peter since he'd gone over but had stopped trying so hard months ago. Jon brought fresh energy and a frankly impressive amount of determination with him and might fare better. It was also greatly amusing to watch him emerge from Martin's office covered in tea or flat on his backside on a rug. She might have taken a few photos surreptitiously with her phone to share with the rest of the archives staff later. Melanie especially would get a kick out of this. It made her not think of Daisy for a bit too which was nice.

“What’s going on?” Melanie walked over and sat down next to her in the breakroom.

“Look!” Basira smirked and handed over her phone which was opened to the photos app.

Melanie scrolled through the album. “Seriously?”

Basira nodded. “Yep. Jon’s trying to get Martin’s attention.”

Melanie stood up. “I think I’ll help Martin.”

Basira was too busy giggling at the photos to pay any attention.

…

Martin stared at Jon with his arms crossed. “JON! GET OUT!”

Melanie walked in. “Martin, I’m here to help.”

Martin turned in confusion. “Melanie, wha-?”

Melanie grabbed his shoulder and pushed him out of the room. “You aren’t going to want to be in here for this.” She closed the door behind him, put on her heavy-duty goggles, and brought out her canister of bear mace. “Jonathan Sims.”

Jon turned around, “Hmm?” He saw the canister of bear mace. “OH G-”

Chapter Text

Martin heard the agonized screaming coming from his office and saw Melanie running out, whimpering, and a lump sobbing and writhing on the floor. “Jon?!?”

Melanie fled past. “You don’t want to go in there!” She was coughing and heading towards the showers.

Martin smelled something awful and grimaced. “What the-”

Basira walked out of the breakroom, sniffing at the air, confused. “Did someone accidentally let loose some bear spray in here?”

Martin’s eyes got wide. “Oh… oh no.” He turned to Basira, panicked. “I think Melanie sprayed some in my office… at Jon.”

Basira glanced into Martin’s office and swore, hurrying down the hall and returning a minute later with a pair of heavy-duty goggles. She shoved them on her face and hurried into Martin’s office, dragging Jon out by his ankles. “Martin, want to take him the rest of the way to the showers? You’re going to need to decontaminate him - use baby soap and cold water, I’ve got some baby soap in there already, just look on the third shelf from the bottom - and I reckon he’d prefer that be you instead of me. Don’t let it run down him - it’ll burn everywhere it goes. I’ll clean up the floor behind you.”

Martin nodded and reached for him. Basira stopped him with a hand. “Don’t let him touch your clothing - he’s contaminated. If he does, you will need to get rid of the clothes since it won’t come off and you don’t want to end up burning later.” She nodded towards Jon. “And as for his clothes… they’re a lost cause.”

Martin nodded again. “Okay, um… I guess just bring some of my extra clothes for after? They’re by my cot.”

Basira raised an eyebrow. “In your office?”

Martin chuckled. “No, my secret cot. It’s in a hidden corner of the library. So I can stay extra Lonely.”

Basira nodded. “That works. And I’ve still got more underclothes from the pack I bought him this week when he got out of his coma.”

…

Martin dragged the screaming, writhing Jon down the hall and into the showers, trying to be comforting. “Jon, I’m so sorry!” Jon didn’t appear to be really aware of what was going on, too distracted by the pain. Martin turned on the water on its coldest setting and laid Jon on the floor, holding his face under the water while he coughed and spluttered. He hurried to grab the baby soap and poured some on his face. Jon continued sobbing and Martin let the water keep rinsing while he started cutting off his clothes. Then he poured on more baby soap and kept going, gently pushing the rest of him into the shower as well and adding more baby soap while keeping his eyes carefully directed at Jon’s face.

Sometime later, Basira knocked on the edge of the outer wall. “I’ve got some clothes out here.”

“Thanks.”

“The screaming seems to have stopped, that’s a good sign.”

Martin gave a bitter chuckle. “I hope so. He’s mostly gasping now - I think the pain mixed with the icy water has been kind of a shock for him.” He gently ran his fingers through Jon’s hair, testing for any peppery feeling. It seemed fine. Just to be safe he got some more baby soap and lathered up his hair, gently washing it as Jon whimpered and spluttered. Finally he felt he might have gotten somewhere. “Jon, does it still hurt anywhere?”

Jon shivered fiercely, his teeth chattering too hard to form words. “J-J-us-t… c-c-old…”

Martin turned off the water and hurried to get him a towel from the shelf, helping Jon stand up and wrapping it around his shoulders. Then he guided him over to the bench where Basira had put the changes of clothes. “Just take what you want - I’m going to shower now, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

…

Martin sat across from Melanie in the archival assistant office, shivering. “Melanie.”

Melanie sat with her arms crossed. “What? Upset that I made your office temporarily uninhabitable? It’ll clear out eventually.”

Martin sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Melanie. That’s… that’s not the main issue here.

Melanie laughed and flipped her sopping wet hair back, sending water droplets across the statements on the desk. “What, you can’t tell me you’re upset about what happened to Jon.”

Martin pounded his fist on the desk. “MELANIE KING! You cannot go around MACING PEOPLE in the archives!”

Melanie shrugged. “It was fun. And you wanted him out of your office, right?”

Martin groaned. “Not… not like THAT!”

Melanie gave an exasperated sigh. “Well, excuse me for trying to help!” She got up and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Martin put his head in his hands. Then after a minute he got up and walked down the hall to Jon’s office and knocked on the door.

“W-who… is it?” Jon’s voice was anxious.

“It’s me.” Footsteps came from the other side of the door and Martin heard a lock disengage as the door was opened. Wide, terrified eyes met his and he smiled reassuringly in response. Jon stepped aside and Martin walked in, carefully closing and locking the door behind him as he figured Jon probably wouldn’t feel safe otherwise. Which appeared to be the right decision - Jon relaxed somewhat once the door was locked. “How are you feeling?”

Jon averted his eyes and looked towards the floor. Martin felt sympathetic - this had clearly been a rough day for him on several levels. He was also shaking, likely from a mix of cold and stress. He slowly walked across the room to where he saw a couple throw blankets crumpled up on the floor and carried them over. “Here, you look cold.” He wrapped Jon in the blankets. Jon shivered and Martin sighed as he wrapped his arms around him as well. Jon gave a start and hopeful eyes met Martin’s. Martin sighed. “Not to make a habit of this but I don’t want you freezing. Now, where have you been sleeping?”

Jon said nothing but his eyes darted to the corner of the room where the blankets had been. Martin raised an eyebrow, somewhat incredulous. “You’ve been sleeping on the floor?”

Jon looked at the floor again and Martin saw a tear trace its way down his cheek. Okay that wouldn’t do. “Come on.” He grabbed Jon’s hand and led him down the hallway to the library and to his secret cot. “Use my cot for now.” Jon stared at the cot for a few seconds until Martin gave a somewhat exasperated sigh and pulled up the blankets before gently pushing Jon down onto the bed. “Get some sleep.” He began draping the blankets over Jon and he nervously laid down and rested his head on the pillow. “Good.” Martin finished tucking him in then nodded, satisfied, and left the room.