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Tim felt like he was being slow cooked. The Archives were stuffy and hot and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get away from the heat. He’d already unbuttoned most of his shirt, Jon would say he was being unprofessional, but he couldn’t care less right about now. There was sweat trickling down his back and he couldn’t focus on anything for the life of him.
Sasha didn’t look as horribly uncomfortable. She was wearing a long flowy skirt today and Tim envied her. At least Martin seemed to be struggling with the heat as much as he was, though he hadn’t started removing any clothing.
Jon, for some ungodly reason, had come into the archives in his usual look of long dark pants, shirt and jacket even completed with a tie. Tim hadn’t even greeted him, just stared because—how on earth wasn’t he dying in those clothes?! He’d retreated into his office, doors shut and not come out all day.
It didn’t take much longer for Tim to decide he couldn’t take it much longer. He got up from his desk, shoving away the statement he’d been attempting (and failing) to read for the past 20 minutes and marched over to Jon’s office.
As much as he just wanted to get out of here, he at least wanted to ask for permission before running out to get some cold drinks from the coffee shop across the street. Surely Jon wouldn’t mind… (Tim happened to know that the other man was secretly very fond of the pink lemonade they served, even though he would never admit it)
He knocked, but didn’t wait for a response before pushing the doors open.
“Hey boss, would you mind if I—“ he froze mid sentence.
Jon was on his tip toes, reaching for a book at the very top of one of his shelves. Usually Jon wore shirts with stiff, tight cuffs that never slid down his arms, but now Tim could see that he’d opted for a looser, lighter fabric shirt, probably due to how hot it was. And with him, having his arms above his head (and apparently not wearing his jacket anymore), his sleeves had slid down to his elbows.
Tim suddenly realized he’d never seen Jon’s bare arms before. He had… tattoos. An intricate design with clouds and swirls and vines on one side and flowers, little stars and planets wrapping around the other one. They were beautiful. The sight was so startling that Tim could only stand there, gaping at him like a fish.
Jon, of all people, fussy about the rules, grumpy unless there was a cat around, using words like “Ambivalent” and “Perspicacious” unironically, Jon, was the last person Tim would’ve ever expected to have tattoos… and a lot of them.
He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, one hand still holding on to the doorknob.
Jons cheeks flushed slightly once he realized what Tim was staring at and he put on his trademark scowl while pulling his sleeves back over his arms.
“What can I do for you, Tim?” He asked.
“You—you have—what-“ Tim stuttered out, completely forgetting what he’d actually come in here for.
“Yes, yes, big deal. I was 18 once too” Jon waved one of his hands dismissively.
“Is that why you’re always wearing long sleeves?” Tim shrieked, finally having found his voice again.
Jon pinched the bridge of his nose with an exaggerated sigh, “Elias says my tattoos are unprofessional…”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“Because it’s irrelevant to t—enough, good Lord Tim, pull yourself together! What do you want?” Jon snapped, but Tim knew him well enough by now to be sure he wasn’t actually upset.
After being over the initial shock Tim couldn’t help grinning like an idiot, “I wanna get some cold drinks from the coffee shop, because we’re all melting in this heat—just wanted to know if you want something as-well?”
“Maybe some… cold water” Jon mumbled, abandoning his tries to get the book and returning to his desk.
Tim fought hard not to roll his eyes, “I’ll get you a lemonade bossman!” He said with a wink. Jon just grumbled something acknowledging, whilst already riffing through a stack of statements again.
Tim suppressed a laugh and was almost out of the office again when— “oh and Tim?” He paused and realized that Jon had a sly smile on his face, an expression Tim had only seen once, when Jon had gotten drunk.
“Yes…?”
“No one will believe you,” he simply said and turned his attention back to his files, that damn smile still on his face.
“You—“ Tim gasped, trying desperately to come up with a response but not finding anything.
He very nearly slammed the door and ran over to Sasha’s desk.
“Did you know about the—“ he gestured at one of his arms, probably looking like a crazy person. Sasha looked up at him with a bemused expression, and that sparkle she usually got in her eyes when she was doing something illegal with computers. “Obviously! It’s really cool, isn’t it?”
Tim laughed, “does he know, you know?”
“Of course not!”
“What are you guys on about?” Martin asked, glancing over to them from his desk, looking confused.
“Oh nothing much, but you should reallyyyyy find an excuse to see Jon today! Maybe ask him to help you get one of those boxes up into one of our shelves?” Tim couldn’t help messing with the other a bit, not after the grand discovery he’d just made.
Martins eyes narrowed in suspicion, “right…”
—
Martin did not, in fact, look for an excuse to talk to Jon. He was far too suspicious of the mischievous smiles Tim and Sasha had thrown at him, and he really didn’t need to be doing anything that pushed him further out of Jon’s good graces. If his facial expressions were anything to go off on, it seemed he simply disliked Martin. And Martin wasn’t too sure yet, how stable this new job was, especially if his boss had it out for him. But before long he’d already forgotten about that weird interaction and resumed his sad attempts to focus on his work.
An excuse to talk to Jon however, came his way all by itself.
He’d stumbled across one of the weird statements, the ones that wouldn’t record to his laptop. When they’d first come across them, Jon said to just send them his way. So that’s what Martin would do. He gulped. Going to talk to Jon was in almost any case, a particularly stressful situation, especially for him.
Sasha and Tim at least knew him well enough… well enough to tease him, and comfortably talk to him. Tim always told him: “he’s actually kinda hilarious if you can sit through the acid”, in an attempt to make Martin feel better. It almost worked, but then Jon would throw him another one of those disapproving looks…
He pressed the document up to his chest and shuffled over to Jon’s office. One breath in, one breath out, he knocked. A small acknowledging grunt came from inside and he entered.
Jon wasn’t looking at him, just typing something on his Laptop in a mildly aggressive way. (Martin guessed he was typing out an email to Elias) there was a half drunk pink lemonade on his desk, he would’ve never guessed Jon would drink something like that…
“Uhm, Jon? I got another one—would you mind taking a look?”
Jon looked up at him, his eyes wandered down towards the papers he was holding and he sighed, pushing away from his desk.
“Sure.”
Jon walked over and reached for the document, his sleeve gently slid down. Martin almost dropped the statement.
“Are you alright?” Jon asked, furrowing his brows.
That’s when Martin realized that he was beet red. His face was on fire. Jon had tattoos…they were hot . And Martin wanted to sink into a hole in the floor and not come back because—no! No no no, that couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t have a crush on his boss!
“Yep! Yes, totally—I’ll just be,” he practically shoved the statement at Jon, backing away, “I’ll just be going-“ he turned around, feeling like he’d somehow, impossibly, gone more red.
He couldn’t see Jon anymore, just feel the confused silence radiating off him.
The door slammed behind him and his eyes immediately fell on Tim, who was leaned against Sashas desk with the most shit eating grin plastered on his face.
“Hey Sash, I think we broke him,” Tim said, nudging her.
“You—you absolute-“ he spluttered, unable to find a curse bad enough. He settled for a brief death stare before returning to his desk, to burry his head in his hands.
He would never live this down…