Hello friend!! I got seized by the spirit of the season and decided to write this today <3 It’s an archives polycule AU where everything is nice and everyone’s happy, but it’s specifically focused on Jon/Tim. I hope that’s okay!!
“Are you sure you don’t want to help me?”
Jon nodded, a serene smile on his face. “Yes.”
“Not even the tiniest bit?”
“Not even that.”
“Could be fun! All that snow-”
“Tim.” Jon was giving him his most unimpressed glare. “Look at me. Do I look like I want to shovel snow?” It was true. Jon was currently wrapped in their two fluffiest blankets, sitting in front of a fire Tim had started and sipping from a mug of tea, a book in his other hand. He looked cozy and warm and all the things Tim wanted to be right now if he hadn’t announced that as a ‘good boyfriend,’ he should clear the driveway for when Martin and Sasha arrive. They’d woken up this morning to see the ground blanketed in a thick layer of white, the storm that Tim had insisted ‘would just pass through’ had evidently decided to stay the night. Tim wanted to make sure they didn’t have any trouble coming up. Unfortunately, he announced this right as he wrapped Jon up, and Jon was not moving any time soon.
“You only have one shovel,” Jon pointed out, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “There’s no point in my standing out there if I’m not going to help.”
“Moral support!”
Jon heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes. “I’ll watch you from the window. You don’t want me to get cold, do you?” Jon wasn’t above a little guilt trip and Tim was the one who bundled him all up. It would be a shame to destroy all of that hard work, especially when the finished product was so damn cute. “Or you could just stay in with me-”
Tim groaned dramatically, winding a scarf around his neck with a flourish. “No, it’s fine. I think we’ve established I’m the good boyfriend, and you’re the lazy one.”
“I prefer practical.”
So now here he was, both sweating and freezing (the worst combination, objectively), making little progress on the driveway while Jon sat by the fire, cozy and warm and cute and very pleased with himself. It made Tim want to scowl and also squish Jon to his chest and never let him go, a fairly normal occurrence.
This wouldn’t be an issue if everyone had come to the cabin at once. Tim had managed to lure Jon away by promising him control of the radio on the ride up, as well as an hour-long detour to the farm that had the horses Jon liked to talk to in very serious tones. Sasha was all about efficiency and wasn’t as indulgent as he was, so she was going to leave a few hours after them with Martin to keep her company. Martin would never allow one of them to feel lonely, though he did look put out at the thought of not being able to watch Jon with the horses. Tim promised to take lots of pictures. In the end, it was probably for the best- Martin had a tendency towards overpacking even for a weekend trip, so this would be a roomier arrangement. But then a surprise storm hit, delaying the two until the next morning. And Tim was going to make sure they had an easy time of it, if he had anything to say about it.
But it was so cold, and he’d slipped twice already, though his falls were cushioned by the snow. On both occasions he saw Jon burrowing his head into the blanket, trying to hide laughter. And Jon needed to stop- well, he needed to stop being Jon and enticing him to come back in. He kept tilting his head in the way he always did when there was an interesting passage in his book, and yawning and blinking like a tired cat, even nodding off a few times, only brought back by a shake of his head. Was he doing this on purpose? Was it all a part of his master plan to leave the driveway un-shoveled and keep Tim all to himself? Terrible, dastardly man.
The last straw came when he was tired and aching, about half-way done. Jon had shuffled out of the room, blanket around his shoulder like a cape. He came back a few minutes later with two mugs of tea and something under his arm. He moved close to the window, setting the mugs down very purposefully, and tucking a bottle out from under his arm, pouring a rather liberal amount of whatever was in it into the mugs. Tim saw the beginnings of a smirk on his face and he dropped the shovel on the porch, stamping his way inside an exaggerated sigh.
“Fine, fine! You’ve seduced me from my work, my small cabin-dwelling siren,” Jon dodged the forehead kiss, Tim had yet to shed all of his cold, wet outdoor gear. “Hope you’re happy.”
“Very.” Jon settled back onto the couch with a little smile, opening up the blanket for Tim to join. “You weren’t getting much done, Tim. You spent most of your time staring.”
“You were being distracting!” He threw the coat into the corner, not caring about the mess so much as getting warm. He took the mug gingerly in his hands, walking over and burrowing into the blanket, Jon melting into his side. Jon was an icicle in almost all circumstances, but a few hours in front of a fire and nestled in blankets seem to have done him good; the man was like his own personal heater. He took a sip and almost choked at the way it burned his throat. “Jesus, what did you put in here?”
“Vodka,” Jon mumbled, tucking his face into Tim’s shoulder. “Only a little.” Jon’s flushed face and half-lidded eyes said otherwise.
“Have you been drinking all this time?”
“Hnnn...maybe.” It was only noon. Tim opened his mouth to chastise him before thinking better. Well, we’ve done worse. “Catch up.”
Tim took another sip, still cringing at the taste. “I can’t get blasted like you are, pal. I’ve still got work to do.”
Jon shook his head against Tim’s arm. “Just stay here. It’s supposed to snow later, anyway.”
Tim paused. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah, this afternoon.” Jon let out a yawn, closing his eyes. “Gonna undo all your hard work.”
“How long have you known that?” Tim stared down at him, a bit irritated as Jon only shrugged.
“Dunno. An hour, maybe?” He peeked his head up, looking out from under his eyelashes. Damn him. “But I liked watchin’ you work.”
Well, Tim couldn’t fault him for that. He ruffled Jon’s hair, ignoring the petulant whine it earned him. “You’re a little devil, you know that?”
“Mhm,” he mumbled drowsily, climbing right into his lap and throwing his arms around Tim’s neck. Well, that’s nice. “And I’m here to warm you up.” Tim wouldn’t say no to that.
It had been a while since it was just the two of them- don’t get him wrong, Tim loved the time any of them got to spend together, as tearing Jon away from his work was nigh on impossible. But sometimes it was nice to be alone, the two of them in front of roaring fire with alcohol coursing through their system and the sky growing ever-grayer in the background. He took a generous sip of Jon’s hideously doctored beverage and sunk deeper into the cushions, giving Jon a squeeze.
“Alright, you win. They’ll have to deal with a snowy driveway. They should’ve come up earlier, anyway.” He’d see them soon, it was fine. Till then, he would exhaust their liquor stash and thoroughly enjoy the warm, tipsy Jon in his arms. The man laid there quietly for a bit, warm and content, before he pulled back to meet Tim’s eyes with a look of deep offense.
“Can’t believe Sasha didn’t want to see the horses. Horses, Tim!”
(if you feel like it) what about “snowed in” or “comfort” with jontim for the tma december bingo? my jontim brainrot never stops and I’d love to see what you come up with (I’m sure it’d be amazing as always) thanks so much !
The JonTim brainrot is real and appreciated! I combined this prompt with one of @balanced-to-a-tea‘s, who asked for Secret Santa with the season one archives gang! Here there be 3.5k words of gifts, pining, and kisses of the Jon/Tim variety :)
“It’s a mess out there,” Tim reported, plopping down in his office chair and looking strangely cheerful, given the situation. “Looks like we’re stuck here for the time being.”
There were audible groans all around, though Jon’s was quieter than the others. If he were being honest, their current situation was his fault- he asked them to hang back at the end of the day and help him with some unreachable boxes (unreachable for him, that is). He was trying to get into the habit of checking the weather in the mornings, though he never managed to actually do it until he was too far from his flat to get an umbrella or a heavier coat. This resulted in a few sticky situations, including several occasions of arriving late, looking like a drowned rat.
“And here I was going to tuck in for the night, have a glass of wine, blast the heat at unreasonable levels,” Sasha complained, doing a half-hearted twirl in her chair. “Terrible!”
“What if we lose power?” Martin fretted, still outfitted in his coat and scarf. “I heard there’s going to be high winds. High winds!” Jon’s guilt increased. Being stuck with his (likely angry) staff in the Archives was not a great start to his career as Head Archivist. And just when we were getting along again…
“I’m sorry,” he began, his hands fidgeting. “I shouldn’t have started this project so late, I didn’t realize the weather would get quite as nasty as it did…”
“Don’t worry about it, boss!” Tim grinned, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on his desk, an act Jon would usually scowl at him for. “Should’ve told you ‘bout the storm. You never check the weather reports.” Jon flushed; Tim knew him too well. “Besides, I can’t say I was expecting it to get this bad; London’s not known for its prodigious snowfall.”
“You don’t seem too put-out by it.” Martin eyed Tim suspiciously as he began to unwind his scarf. “You’re smiling.”
“Well, yeah!” Tim swirled around, eyeing them all with an unfettered glee. Jon wondered what he had in mind; there was never a dull moment when Tim had free time. He’d learned that the hard way. “There’s something so romantic about being snowed-in, don’t you agree, Jon?”
Jon did not agree; being trapped, even in a big building like the Institute, left him feeling anxious and restless. Sasha agreed, if her rolled eyes were anything to go by. Martin seemed to be considering it, though.
“I suppose there’s something poetic about it?” he mused, leaning back against the wall. “The snow falling, blanketing the ground in white…” All eyes turned to him and he blushed under the scrutiny.
“See! Martin’s got the spirit.” Tim clapped his hands and got to his feet. “We’ve got leftovers from lunch in the fridge. Between that and Martin’s stash of tea biscuits, we won’t go hungry. And there’s that weird frozen lasagna in the back of the freezer…”
“We don’t have an oven, Tim,” Jon pointed out. “And I’m fairly certain that’s been in there for more than a year.”
Tim continued, impervious to any criticism. “And if we have to stay the night, Jon’s got that cot he thinks we don’t know about-”
“Hey-!”
“-and we can raid all the break rooms for their gross cushions-”
“I am not sleeping here,” Sasha said, punctuating the statement with a slam of a hand on her desk. “The weather report says it's supposed to pass over soon. We’ll only be here for a few hours, tops.”
“Weather reports are wrong all the time, Sash! Think of the fun we could get up to.” Tim smiled and Jon’s heart stuttered without his permission, most likely due to the idea of what Tim considered ‘fun.’ With the way his eyes lit up, however, Jon couldn’t fight a small smile. “Ooh! We could do Secret Santa, like we used to do in Research. Remember?”
Jon did remember. He still kept some of the gifts he’d received, mostly small trinkets from Tim and Sasha that somehow managed to give him a small thrill of happiness whenever he saw them. Still, he didn’t know how they could do such a thing in the Archives, with nothing around that could constitute a gift.
“How’re we supposed to do that?” Martin asked, sharing Jon’s concern. “Statements and office supplies are the only things we have access to.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Tim replied, nudging Martin with his foot. “We’ll get creative! I’m sure with a little thought and effort, we can all find something suitable.” He’d already begun to scribble their names on a piece of paper. “C’mon, it’ll pass the time. Please?” Jon sighed, unable to argue when Tim used his most pathetic puppy-dog eyes.
“Fine,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes at Tim’s whoop of enthusiasm. “But don’t expect anything extravagant. I’m not feeling particularly creative.”
“I guess it could be a good distraction,” Sasha acquiesced, with Martin nodding tentatively. “How long do we get to find a gift? Or make one, I suppose.”
“An hour? Two? Then we can all meet back here and exchange!” Tim nodded, and without waiting for any agreement he crumpled the pieces of paper into a cup and stood up. “Martin, you first. No peeking!”
“I won’t,” he mumbled, reaching in with one hand with his head turned pointedly away. He pulled out a slip of paper and immediately turned red upon opening it. “Um, alright. Yeah.” Maybe he got Tim, Jon mused.
Sasha picked next, her face giving nothing away. Tim held the cup out to Jon, waggling his eyebrows. He ignored this, reaching in to pick one of the remaining two slips of paper. Tim!! It read, with several smiley faces and hearts. He felt his own face heating up and shoved the slip into his pocket, staring at the floor.
“And last but certainly not least, me!” Tim took the last slip with a flourish, grinning at what he read. The four of them stared at each other for an awkward beat until Tim broke the silence with a shrill whistle.
“What are you waiting for? Clock’s a tickin’!”
Fuck.
________
It had been an hour and a half. As far as Jon knew, Tim and Sasha were waiting in the break room, steadily demolishing Martin’s stash of sweets, the man himself having locked himself in Document Storage and thereby eliminating one more place for Jon to scavenge for a gift (not that there was anything in there, but it was the principle of the thing). So now here he sat, moping in his office with nary an idea for what to give Tim.
Tim. He was glad they’d started talking again, albeit not with the same frequency as before. There was of course an adjustment period, that was to be expected- especially when someone younger and arguably less qualified than quite a few candidates suddenly became your boss. But Tim had always been there for him, tolerated his quirks, helped him through a breakdown or two. He stuck by his side when most people in the department couldn’t stand him. Perhaps, with some time, they could go back to being as close as they were. Or closer.
Jon tamped that thought down- it was ridiculous to even think about, now that he was his boss. Professional boundaries aside, what would Tim even see in him? It wasn’t his fault Jon read into every wink, every casual word of praise. A hug or a warm arm around his shoulder that he leaned into instead of turning away. Tim did that with everyone, Jon wasn’t special. He wasn’t Sasha, with her beautiful laugh and her razor-sharp wit. Hell, he’d probably pick Martin over him. Someone nicer, with less sharp edges. Someone who laughed as easily as he did.
Someone who wasn’t Jon.
He shook himself from these thoughts, attempting to concentrate on the task at hand. What did he have that Tim could possibly want? Not his rubber band ball, though he knew that Tim was jealous of its now astronomical proportions (he added to it when he was stressed, which he always was these days). Not the stale packet of crisps in the bottom of his drawer. He thought vaguely of getting a book he thought Tim would like from the library, but that was more of a loan. Maybe an article he found interesting? Tim always used to read the ones Jon forwarded him, and even had a thing or two to say at the end of them. But maybe he found them annoying. Maybe he just did that to shut Jon up. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Jon’s thoughts kept straying to the foyer of the institute, where festive decorations had been set up at the start of the month, most likely Rosie’s doing. There was a beautiful handmade wreath, filled with pinecones and red flowers and other seasonal flora. He remembered back in Research, when Tim would terrorize them all with stupid little pranks and games, his main target being Jon. Jon would always duck away, grumble and complain, and Tim didn’t take it personally. Maybe I’ll indulge him just this once.
Mind made up, he slipped out of his office.
________
Tim watched his three friends with undisguised amusement.
Martin was fidgeting in his seat, constantly crinkling the grocery bag he’d decorated to look more seasonal. Tim knew at once that he’d gotten Jon; he wouldn’t have turned that red for anyone else. Poor sod. Tim had Sasha, a gift he wouldn’t sweat over. She appreciated a good gag. He was fairly certain Sasha got Martin, judging by her neutral, unbothered expression.
Or maybe he just hoped she did. Because that would mean that Jon got Tim.
Not that it would mean anything. He was just interested in what Jon would pick out, that’s all. He could be surprisingly thoughtful, if past gifts were anything to go by. He still had the small box of fidget toys on his desk, where they got regular use.
He clapped his hands decisively, attempting to clear his mind of any more Jon-thoughts. “Well, then. As the emcee for this event, I’ll go first. Sasha, may I present to you the Tim Stoker Coupon Bonanza, valued at over one thousand dollars- but for you? Free!”
He revealed it with all the fanfare of a marriage proposal, bending down on one knee to hand over a binder of hastily drawn nonsense that Sasha would surely appreciate. She took it just as delicately, thumbing through the pages with a delightful smirk.
“One free coffee from the place around the corner?” She put a hand to her chest in faux- surprise. “Tim, you shouldn’t have!” Never mind that he already got her coffee every morning.
“I know, I know. I’m too generous, really.”
“One three hour lunch break. Don’t think Jon would like that.”
“He can come along. Marto too!”
“One date to the Jade Buffet, where we will split the check- Tim, the rest of these are more for you than they are-”
“Moving on!” He interrupted. “Sasha, why don’t you show us what you’ve got?” She ignored his wink, shutting the book with an over-exaggerated sigh. She reached out for a small bag on her desk, which she handed over to Martin. He thanked her quietly, unwrapping a mug- Sasha’s favorite, with a cartoon of a dog that she’d hand-painted (Sharpie’d, would be more accurate) to look like one of those highland cows Martin was always going on about. The entire effect was monstrous, but Martin seemed touched. Tim was happy too, as this meant Jon must have drawn his name.
“Oh that’s- that’s so nice, thank you Sasha!” His smile was infectious, even Jon wasn’t immune to it (though he tried to hide it).
“It’ll probably come off if you wash it, so I wouldn’t actually use it,” Sasha advised. “But it could make a nice pencil holder.”
“Oh! That’s handy-”
“Ahem!” Tim once again interrupted; he was eager to see what Martin had whipped up for Jon, considering he’d holed himself up for about two hours. “Martin, I believe it’s your turn?”
“Um, y-yeah.” He put the cup down with some reluctance, picking up the bag he’d decorated with snowflakes and trees and handing it over to Jon, who looked surprised that anyone had gotten him anything. It was an expression Tim was used to; Jon never expected kindness, even in circumstances when he would very clearly receive it. Silly man.
As soon as Jon began to reach into the bag, Martin stumbled through an explanation. “You don’t need to keep it, n-not if you don’t want, but y-you’re always saying you’re cold and y’know, I have extras, so-”
Martin had given Jon one of his many scarves, this one a worn, dark green that was sure to look lovely with his skin tone. He spent two hours deciding on that? It was a nice gift, for sure. Jon held it in his hands like it was completely foreign to him, though Tim could see him running his fingers over the knit appreciatively, looking at it with wide eyes.
“B-But this is your scarf, Martin,” he said, once he found the words. “I can’t-”
“Well now it’s yours,” Martin replied, his voice steadying with resolve. “Anyway, I um- it’s got your name on it. Or your initials, at least.” He gave a nervous laugh, his face turning even redder if possible.
And sure enough, at the end of the scarf was a small, messy embroidered J.S., along with a crude attempt at a small cat face. The effort was adorable, and it sent a pang through Tim’s chest for several reasons he didn’t want to name.
“T-That’s- well, thank you, Martin.” Jon ran his fingers over the small ‘J’ as if it would disappear if he looked away. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” Jon placed it almost reverently back in the bag, giving Martin a rare, genuine smile, one that Tim wished he had put on his face. Stop that.
“Jon’s turn!” he said, mustering up his last bit of enthusiasm. “I for one have no idea who Jon got, so this is going to be a real surprise-”
“S-Shut up, Tim.” Jon muttered, reaching for something behind him. He hesitated, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled out a small sprig of what looked to be pine needles, because it couldn’t be what Tim thought it was, no sir, that wouldn’t make sense-
He watched as Jonathan Sims moved closer and with shaking hands and a beet-red face, moved up on his tippy-toes to hold a tiny sprig of mistletoe above their heads. And then, in what surely must have been a hallucination or a dream sequence, two lips met his in a tiny peck of a kiss that was over before Tim could truly register it.
He stared unblinking as Jon sank back on his heels, his eyes still tightly shut from the kiss. Tim brought a hand up to his mouth, the warm tingle of slightly chapped lips on his still fresh in his mind. Jon began to stutter in the absolute silence of the room, stumbling backwards without looking up from his feet.
“I’m, um- I-I have to. S-Sorry! I’m going to... goodbye now.”
And with that Jonathan Sims fled the room, leaving three stupefied assistants in his wake.
_________
“Knock Knock!”
Tim tried to keep his voice as light as possible. He didn’t think Jon could stand anything more than that right now.
He’d given him a half hour of solitude, enough for him to overcome whatever embarrassment he felt over the encounter. Martin was stewing in a corner, looking shell-shocked and mopey over the turn of events. Tim was just as shocked as he was. Little Jonathan Sims, grumpy researcher and now even grumpier Head Archivist, giving Tim a kiss? Under the mistletoe?
“Go get him,” Sasha smirked, kicking his chair. “Bring him some food. And maybe return the favor.”
So he took a plate of reheated Pad Thai and a bottle of rum he kept under his desk for special occasions, hoping to win Jon over. Let him know the kiss was much appreciated, and that perhaps he’d like another if Jon was so inclined.
The man jumped up from his desk, where he’d had his head pillowed in his arms and his chunkiest cardigan wrapped around him for warmth. It was getting colder, and Tim hadn’t checked outside recently, too distracted by current events. His face was still flushed red, and he wouldn’t meet Tim’s eyes. I’ll have to change that.
“Thought I’d come bearing gifts.” He waved the bottle of rum around for Jon to see as he walked into the room. “Of the food and drink variety. But I wouldn’t mind a repeat of what happened in the break room.” He threw in a wink for good measure- God, why couldn’t he ever be serious? He always fell back on jokes and teasing words.
“I’m-I’m sorry, Tim,” Jon groaned, reaching out for the rum and pouring a liberal amount into a mug that previously housed tea. He still avoided Tim’s eyes. “That was completely inappropriate, I-I just couldn’t think of-”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he placed the food down on Jon’s desk, ignoring the pain in his heart at the apology. So he didn’t mean it. He plopped down on Jon’s couch, trying to feign a lightness he didn’t feel as he drank straight from the bottle. “No harm, no foul. It was nice.” He shrugged. Jon moved from his desk to join him on the couch, looking so adorable and cozy that Tim had to restrain from taking him in his arms. He watched as Jon took two large mouthfuls of the rum, knocking it back like a champ. Jesus. And then he raised his eyes to his, meeting them with a wide-eyed hopefulness that made Tim’s heart stutter in his chest.
“So- so you didn’t mind?”
“Nope.” Tim took another sip of the rum, wondering where this was going. He wouldn’t…
“Then you-,” Jon gulped, seemingly gathering his courage. “You wouldn’t mind if we- that is, if I maybe did it again?”
Tim stared.
“I-I still have the mistletoe.”
Jon sat there, so earnest and vulnerable, his hands fidgeting with the drink in his lap. Tim remembered the first time he laid eyes on him, the taciturn young researcher with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. He imagined asking him on a date, getting to know the man under that prickly exterior. Making him laugh, getting that rare smile that Martin got today. But he didn’t seem interested and Tim never wanted to push it, too respectful of his boundaries.
But maybe he hadn’t imagined the way Jon leaned into his touch. How he laughed at Tim’s shitty jokes a bit longer than necessary. That the looks he got in the library weren’t ones of annoyance, but fondness. So he set the bottle down, took the drink out of Jon’s hands and replaced it with the warm grip of his own. His voice came out low, quiet and serious and utterly unlike him.
“I wouldn’t mind at all.” And he leaned in and kissed Jonathan Sims, just like he wanted to do all those years ago.
It was a sweet, lingering thing- the taste of rum on his lips, lips that parted so easily for Tim like he’d been waiting, wanting this for so long, maybe even as long as Tim had. And when they finally parted, Jon stared at him with those deep brown eyes and gave him the smile he’d been wishing for and it was just for him. He put that there.
“Was-was that okay?” he murmured, feeling nervous and open under Jon’s intense gaze.
“Yes,” was the whispered response. He let out a small, charming laugh that Tim would always remember when he thought back to this night, the first night of many stolen kisses and secret smiles. “I-I liked that.”
“Well, good!” Tim could no longer contain the urge to have Jon in his arms and pulled him to his chest, appreciating the small squeak it earned him. “Because there’s more where that came from.” Jon leaned into his touch, as if trying to leech every bit of warmth from Tim that he could. It felt so utterly right to be here, on this uncomfortable couch with an armful of the man he’d been pining over for the last three years. Score, a giddy part of his mind yelled. They laid there in silence for a few minutes, reveling in the feeling of affection finally realized when Jon’s head perked up from his chest, a concerned look in his eyes.
“Do you think Rosie’s going to notice I nicked her mistletoe?”
Tim snickered. “Oh, absolutely. But I’ll take the fall. She’s not getting that back.”
Jon was always thoughtful with his gifts. And this was one he intended to keep.
i am all for you writing more holiday archives fun, the last one you posted was so cute!
thank you thats so sweet! i might post a few more i have written already, but they don’t get as much feedback as my other ones so i might focus more on my prompts/other projects, dont want to be annoying with the posts. ill tag any more as #advent archives if you want to find, though! :)
