I'm honestly on a roll with writing right now, so I'm posting this one before my motivation runs out! 😅
I've always loved AUs where Jon met Gerry when he was still working in research, so I wrote one!
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Jon is walking up the large stone steps of the Institute, bulging messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and arms full of the books that he couldn't fit. As he nears the top step, he hears a loud rumbling from the street behind him, and he turns to see a vintage motorcycle pull up to the curb.
The rider swings one ripped-jean clad leg wide over the bike and pops the kickstand down. They stride up the steps toward Jon, taking them two at a time. The sleek black helmet still obscuring their features.
"E-excuse me," Jon stammers, motioning to grab the taller figure's arm as he walks past, "can I help you? Are you here to give a statement?"
A low chuckle comes from under the tinted visor, before the biker reaches up to remove the helmet. He pulls the heavy thing free of his head, and shakes out his long black hair. He runs a hand through it to tame some of the more unruly hairs.
Now that Jon can see the man, he's certain that he doesn't work here. Dark makeup is smudged around bright blue eyes, and he has two twin piercing on his lower lip, which is painted a similar shade of black to his eyelids.
The taller man has to look down to meet Jon's eyes, and he can't help but laugh louder at the look of indignation on his face. Eyes hard set on him, but brow knit in confusion.
"What's so funny?" The smaller man asks, a bit more irritation filtering into his tone.
"I'm Gerry," the leather clad man says coolly, taking a step toward Jon, and Jon quickly takes a step back, shrinking into himself, so Gerry steps back again, choosing to instead extend his hand, "I'm here to see Gertrude."
"R-right, well, I can show you down to the Archives."
"No need. I know my way around pretty well," the man, Gerry, says with a quick wink, opening the heavy oak doors with a flourish, and stepping inside, leaving Jon to stare after him as the door closes.
A few weeks pass before Jon sees Gerry again, walking the halls toward the Archives. Jon catches up with him quickly, matching his steps as he comes up beside him.
Jon looks the tall goth up and down. He's wearing similar makeup to the first time they met, but today half of his hair is in a low ponytail, with some loose strands hanging on the side of his face. Jon's gaze moves lower to the plain black tee hugging his torso, the sleeves just a bit too tight on his upper arms. He wonders if Gerry works out.
Would I even weigh anything to him? Jon begins to wonder at scenarios where Gerry may have to carry him.
"Can I help you?" Gerry asks, pierced brow quirking up.
Jon's face turns a bright shade of pink as the man's voice brings that particular train of thought to a screaming halt, "w-what?"
"Well, I just figured since you rushed to catch up to me, you needed me for something," the corner of Gerry's mouth pulls up as his voice takes on a teasing tone, "or did you just plan on undressing me with your eyes?"
Jon turns wide eyes up to meet Gerry's, face flushing all the way to the tips of his ears, "No! I was already coming this way to deliver this file to Ms. Robinson! It had nothing to do with you!"
"Good," Gerry reaches over Jon's head and pushes the Archive door open, "after you?"
Jon just stares numbly up at Gerry, brain still trying to catch up to what Gerry had said. Was he really staring that hard? Wait. Was he doing it again? Stop staring, idiot!
Jon tucks his chin into his chest and ducks under the taller man's arm, walking into the room and making a beeline straight to the head archivist's office.
Gerry is leaning against another assistant's desk when Jon steps back into the larger room.
"Hey!"
Jon turns on his heel a pins Gerry with his meanest face, "what?"
Gerry lifts his hands as in surrender and pushes himself off the desk, stepping toward Jon like a deer he might spook, "well, I was just heading out to grab lunch from the cafe down the street and wanted to know if you'd like to join me? Since you seem so enthralled with me," he finishes with a cheeky wink.
Jon just stands stunned, clutching the newest files he'd been given to his chest. He makes a big show of thinking the offer over, turning his eyes up toward the ceiling and tapping his foot. And it must be a pretty good performance, because the assistant whose desk Gerry had commandeered is snickering.
"Oh, I suppose if you want my company so badly, I could be bothered for a few moments," Jon says in his most dramatic, put-out voice.
Gerry's smile is so bright that Jon has to look anywhere but his face.
A few moments later, they're both standing out on the front sidewalk. Jon is just staring wide eyed at the helmet being offered to him.
"Ooooh, no! There is no way you're getting me on that thing!" Jon yells, taking a step away from the rumbling machine in front of him.
"I'll take it easy with you, I promise," Gerry says, still holding the helmet out to the smaller man, but shaking it a little.
"I don't care! Do you know the statistics of injuries from those death machines? I'll walk and meet you there, thank you very much!" Jon turns his nose up and begins marching down the sidewalk.
Gerry shuts the bike off and puts the helmet back in its storage box, jogging to catch up to him. Once he catches up with him, he gives him a quick tap on the shoulder.
Jon stops and rounds on him, "yes?"
"It's, uh, it's this way." Gerry points his thumb over his shoulder in the opposite direction.
"Fine, lead the way." Jon says curtly, motioning with his hand.
Jon spends more time paying attention to the man across from him than the sandwich he had ordered.
The way his eyes sparkle when he starts to talk about whatever project him and Gertrude are undertaking.
The way he worries his lip ring with his teeth and apologizes when he thinks he's gotten too excited.
The eyes tattooed on each of his joints, from his fingers all the way up to the one sitting squarely in the middle of his throat. He wonders if there are more, and where they would be.
When Jon looks up again, Gerry is chewing at the hoop on the right side of his lip, "sorry, am I boring you?"
Jon's eyes widen and his cheeks flush, "no! No! I was just, um, looking at your tattoos."
"You like them? Did most of them myself!" Gerry says, and there's that beaming smile again, but this time Jon doesn't look away, he just smiles brightly back.
They spend the rest of their time in easy conversation before Gerry snatches the check and heads toward the counter.
Jon huffs and follows him out the door, "I could've gotten my own food!"
"I know, but I didn't want you to. I always pay on the first date."
Jon stops dead and stares at Gerry's back, "was this a date?"
Gerry stops and turns to look over his shoulder, soft blue eyes scanning the smaller man's face, "I would like it to be."
"Oh. Okay," Jon says quietly, picking up his pace and coming to stand next to the taller goth, "then I guess this is the part where we hold hands?"
"Only if you want it to be."
Jon reaches out, tentatively brushing their knuckles before lacing their fingers together. He shoots Gerry a timid smile before starting back down the sidewalk.
They quickly fall into an easy routine. Either Jon will come down to the Archives or Gerry will come to research and they'll head down to the cafe for lunch. Every time Gerry tries to convince him to get on the bike, and every time Jon vehemently refuses. So they walk, hand in hand down the street.
After a few weeks of this, Jon steps into the archives early one morning. He scans the room before realizing that Gerry isn't there.
"Um. Um, excuse me," Jon says, trying to draw the attention of the assistant at the desk in front of him.
Without looking up, the guy just hooks a thumb over his shoulder at Gertrude's office door.
"Alright. I'll just wait here, I guess." Jon whispers to himself, sitting in a small folding chair by the door.
His attention is pulled from the book in his lap at the sound of the door opening, and Gerry calling his name.
"Gerry, hi!"
"What are you doing here? Lunch isn't for another hour?"
"Well, I needed to go to the shops, and it's quite a long walk," Jon says looking down at the closed book in his lap.
"Right, well, I could use the fresh air." Gerry stretches and grabs his jacket off the hook, and heads out the door.
"Did you grab your keys?" Jon asks as they near the large oak doors that lead out to the street.
"I always have my keys, but why? I thought we were walking?"
"It's a pretty long walk to the bookshop I need to go to, so I thought maybe we could, um, take the bike?"
Gerry's eyes light up as he digs his keys out of his jacket pocket, "really?"
Jon just gives a short nod and holds out his hand for the helmet. Gerry grabs it off the back of the seat and puts it on Jon's head. He puts the key in and kicks the bike to life. Jon can feel the rumbling in his chest as he takes a small step closer.
Gerry is already straddling the motorcycle, and he pats the seat behind him. Jon swings his leg over and slides on right behind him.
Leaning his head onto Gerry's shoulder he yells over the roar of the engine, "wait! Where's your helmet?"
"You're wearing it," Gerry yells back. He kicks the stand up into place and gets balanced, "don't worry, I'll take it slow for you!"
The bike jerks into gear and roars away from the curb.
Jon's mind is racing with all of those chain emails he used to get in uni. The guy who gives his helmet to his girlfriend to save her after he learns the brakes fail. The gory details after they slam into a tree or wall or parked car. It's not until Gerry places a hand over his own that he realizes he's been white knuckling the other man's jacket.
Gerry turns his head so his voice can be heard over the wind, "hey! You can relax! You're in good hands! Just sit back and enjoy the ride!"
Jon takes a few deep breaths and picks his head up from where he'd had it hidden in Gerry's back.
The sidewalk next to them is a blur, and he can feel the wind pulling at his sweater. He sits up a bit straighter and feels the vibrations from the motor running up his legs into his chest. He reaches up to push the visor up so he can feel the wind on his face, and suddenly it all makes sense.
This must be that feeling that everyone always talks about. He never believed them when they said it felt like flying, but this, this is exhilarating. His arms loosen around Gerry's waist, and he throws his head back.
Gerry can feel Jon's chest shaking with laughter as he leans back as far as he can, and that's his cue to turn the bike onto a side street. He wants to draw that joy out as long as he can, so he takes the scenic route.
Once the laughing fit has passed, he sighs and leans his full body into Gerry's back, tightening his hold. This grip isn't from fear, and as Gerry laces one of his hands with Jon's, he feels a warmth spreading through his chest that pulls his lips up into a soft smile.
Gerry brings the bike to a slow stop on the curb in front of the bookshop, and leans it onto the stand. He swings his leg up and over the tank, and offers his hand to Jon.
Jon swings his leg over the bike, but stumbles as he tries to get his legs to remember how to hold his weight.
Gerry catches him by his upper arms as he nearly crashes right into his chest, "don't worry, that happens to everyone their first time."
Jon holds onto Gerry's arm as he wanders around the bookshop, grabbing the few books he came in for. Gerry takes them from him once he's paid and starts out of the shop. He sets the books carefully into the saddlebag on the back and straddles the bike once more.
Jon slides right behind him like he was meant to be there his whole life, and pulls the helmet down onto his head.
Gerry puts the bike in gear and their off again, Jon pressing himself into Gerry's back and watching as the world blurs around them.