when it comes to the way jon talks about his assistants, his early s1 grudge against martin gets a lot of appreciation and rightly so, but I actually think there is just as much charm to the equally consistent refrains of 'tim's definitely a slut but I'm too british to say so, anyway I respect it' and 'sasha is literally the coolest person i know, she wins, everyone else go home'
spiritual continuation of jon and tim's epic murder moment but this time they actually take a moment to remember the real sasha and mourn their beloved friend bc its MY season 5 au and GOD they deserve a moment to grief... 😭😭😭
Sometimes he tried. Sometimes he didn’t. Regardless, the result was almost always the same. Him stammering and stuttering and walking away. Friends were few and far between, mostly classmates who he had spent enough time with that they must have reached that milestone, but Jon didn’t feel like he knew very well.
He did know Tim and Sasha. They were often in his space and sometimes loud, and they never seemed to want to leave him alone. Even if they weren’t talking at him, they were always near, hanging around research after hours when Jon was trying to catch up on work, buying far too much food and then all but forcing Jon to help finish it, dragging him away from his work when he was almost done.
For as annoying as they could be, Jon found that he… enjoyed the time they spent together. He felt awkward at times, not sure how to be in the face of Tim’s bold personality and Sasha’s knowing nature, and even still, he liked being around them.
That was why he’d accepted when Tim had invited him over for a movie night with him and Sasha. There were so many social engagements that sounded so draining that Jon could barely think about them without feeling overwhelmed, but… a movie night with two other people? That would be okay. Maybe even fun.
Maybe Tim and Sasha would want to be his friends.
“So!” Tim said enthusiastically. “Jason Bourne?”
Sasha scoffed. “No.”
“Aww, Jon come on, back me up here!”
Jon startled. “Oh- um, I don’t really watch many films. Mostly documentaries, really.”
Sasha gasped. “Ooh, you might like the Martian!”
“No!” Tim groaned. “Not the Martian again Sasha, we’ve watched it like five times!”
“It’s good!”
“It’s not good five times.”
She grinned. “Well maybe it’ll be good six times!”
“No. I refuse to watch the Martian ever again in my life. You can’t make me.”
Sasha’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, can’t I?”
Tim must have caught something in her eye that Jon didn’t, because he shot off the couch, out of her reach. “Not if you can’t catch me!”
Jon watched bemusedly as Sasha caught him with ease, playfully tackling him to the floor, and the next thing he knew Tim was shrieking with laughter, stirring an odd, sour feeling in Jon’s stomach.
Sasha laughed evilly. “Say we’ll watch the Martian! Say it!”
Tim batted at her, snorting. “N-never!!”
She tutted. “So be it.” And slid one hand up his shirt to tickle at his stomach.
Jon rolled his eyes half-heartedly. “Must you always be so childish?” He grumbled, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the odd emotion stirring inside him.
Sasha released Tim with one last pinch of his stomach. “Yep, more fun.” She countered.
Tim crawled onto the sofa beside Jon, still grinning widely. “I take it you’re not ticklish then?” He asked, and before Jon had the chance to reply with ‘of course not’, reached over and gave his side a quick squeeze.
The touch sent an odd sensation shooting up Jon’s spine, eliciting a yelp he couldn’t contain and… oh. It seemed he was suddenly on the floor.
And Tim and Sasha were both grinning at him.
Oh.
“Ah. U-um…”
Tim’s smile grew. “Oh, I have never been happier to be wrong in my life.”
Jon felt like he had become prey. “Wait- wait, Tim!”
Tim pounced with no preamble, hands immediately latching onto Jon’s sides and wiggling, and how did it feel like that? Admittedly Jon wasn’t someone well versed on physical contact, but Tim’s fingers felt like lightning, he had no chance to resist, no hope of doing anything but… laughing?
God, it was so strange! Tim was just poking at him, really, and it- it tickled, Jon accepted, curled up into a ball on the living room floor, squeaky giggles that he was certain he had never produced in his life bubbling forth from his mouth.
Well, this is new.
All of a sudden, Tim stopped. “Okay, okay, I won’t be too cruel.” He chuckled, ruffling Jon’s hair.
Jon looked up at him with wide eyes. Cruel? That wasn’t cruel, it was… fun. New and surprising and- nice. “Wait!” He blurted impulsively. “Try that again?”
They both snorted. “No chance you’re convincing us you’re not ticklish now.” Tim joked, poking him in the ribs and sending another bolt of sensation through Jon’s form, which was endlessly fascinating.
Jon’s hand wrapped around the spot as if to savour the lingering feeling. He poked experimentally, but felt nothing.
Sasha’s smiled softened when she realised what had happened. “Jon.” She said. “Did you know that you’re ticklish?”
Jon looked up at her in surprise, his expression closing in more to being defensive when he caught the amusement. “I- no one ever told me!” He blustered. “I-I thought it was some odd personality quirk or something!”
Tim snorted into his hand, trying not to find this too funny. “Personality quirk?”
“Well how was I supposed to know it was a-an actual sensation?”
Sasha smirked, leaning forwards on the arm of the sofa, ready to attack. “I bet you’ve got other spots too.”
Tim snorted. “Don’t kill him, Sasha.”
“I’m just curious!” She countered, lowering herself to their level on the carpeted floor but keeping her hands to herself for now. “Besides, you did say to try that again, right Jon?”
“Run.” Tim joked. “While you still can.”
Sasha glared playfully and, because she could, pounced towards Tim, digging her fingers into his stomach, and making him burst into silly cackles. “Didn’t take your own advice, hmm?”
“Sash!” Tim shrieked, half curling into a ball and clinging to her wrists, but clearly not pushing her away very hard.
Jon watched their playful tussle curiously. They both looked so happy, smiling and laughing like that. Knowing that Tim’s squealing laughter was utterly beyond his control did make it feel that bit less obnoxious. Perhaps he’d just been jealous of their closeness.
Oh.
Yes, he’d definitely been jealous.
A hand closed around Jon’s ankle, making him yelp loudly even as he realised he was being dragged into the fray. Tim wheezed a laugh. “Bad move, not paying attention!”
Jon probably could have fought back if he’d wanted to, kicked, or squirmed free, but… he couldn’t find a good reason to resist. He wanted this, even past his own curiosity. Tim and Sasha were his friends, that was certain now, and they were just playing. They were dragging him over there because they wanted him to do the same, wanted to make him laugh and smile like they were, and Jon didn’t want to fight against that.
That said, he couldn’t exactly stop himself from twisting away from the grabby hand squeezing at his side, making him squeak loudly. Unfortunately, moving away from one hand sent him right into another, this one gently spidering over his stomach, and the next thing Jon knew he’d curled up into a ball and clamped his hands over his face, squealing at every new touch.
Tim laughed, holding Jon’s elbow with one hand and poking at his side with the other. “Aw, you’re like a squeaky toy.” He teased.
Sasha was grinning too; Jon could just about see her through his fingers and his twitching. “So, sides and stomach, not a bad start.”
“I dunno, we haven’t confirmed it yet.” Tim said. “Hey Jon, for research purposes, does this tickle?”
His hand switched from poking to grabbing Jon’s side in some kind of vibrating claw that made him shriek and burst out into bright laughter, his arm finally pushing back to try to defend the spot.
The claw quickly froze, though Sasha’s nails scratching and tapping over his stomach was more than enough to keep Jon giggling, much as he tried to stop.
Tim put a hand over his heart. “Sasha, look.” He said, only half teasing. “Jon can smile.”
Sasha snickered, “I don’t know.” She poked at Jon’s upper ribs, trying to worm a finger under his arm. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Jon’s hands stayed firmly clamped over his increasingly flushed face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard. Could barely remember the last time he’d laughed at all. And now he was here, lying on the floor between his mischievous friends as they tickled all that laughter out of him, and he- he loved it.
Sasha’s nails shifted from wiggling at his ribs to gently scratching about his neck and ears. Jon was fairly certain his voice couldn’t actually go that high, but apparently not. “C’mon, let me see that smile.” She teased.
Having a fight to win only made Jon more stubborn, even when she found a spot just behind his right ear that made him honest-to-god snort. Part of him wanted to fight back, wanted to push at them and try to tickle them just because he could, because he wanted to play like that and see them smile and laugh like this, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead and he felt more than a little giddy from… everything.
Sasha giggled. “Oh, I think I can see it there!” She teased, fingers moving to trace over the parts of his jaw and cheeks not covered by his hands.
Jon squeaked, melting into the ground, trying to will his hands to cover more of his still widening grin. This was ridiculous, he knew, they’d definitely seen him smile before and anyway, it was hardly a secret or something to hide, but that somehow only made it worse. The knowledge that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed or flustered only made him feel more embarrassed and flustered, especially when all he wanted was for this to continue.
A hand started squeezing at his kneecap and Jon shrieked, kicking and rolling from side to side in an attempt to shake Tim loose, his giggles giving way to pitchy laughter.
Sasha fluttered her fingers behind his ears, catching Tim’s eye and grinning. This was too much fun. “Such a cute little smile!” She cooed, the edges of it now quite visible around Jon’s twitchy hands.
In a last-ditch effort to retain some modicum of dignity, Jon swung hard and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the carpet, his now free hands batting at Sasha’s, still trying to kick away Tim to no avail.
Tim and Sasha laughed at his meagre defence, the sound making Jon want to curl up into a smiley melted ball. His thoughts had been reduced to giggly mush.
Those wicked nails wiggled into a particularly bad spot behind his ear, and Jon snorted and turned his head to block them on impulse. Then he opened his eyes and saw Sasha smiling back at him, alerting him too late to her trap.
“There, see?” She teased, wiggling her fingers until his chin. “Such a cute smile.”
Jon squeaked and buried his chin in his chest, but didn’t otherwise hide his face. He wasn’t sure he even had the energy to, as drunk on laughter as he was. He did squeeze his eyes shut, if only because he couldn’t stand the gentle affection in Sasha’s eyes.
Sasha couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to. Jon was honestly too cute. “Had enough?”
Jon didn’t answer, giggling and jerking from Tim’s fingers dancing in the spots behind his knees.
She laughed. “I think you’re done, hmm? Last thing anyone wants is for you to die laughing.”
Privately, Jon didn’t think that was a bad way to go. Once Tim had stopped, he curled up into a ball, shaking with residual giggles. Sasha pressed a somewhat hesitant kiss to his cheek, which only made him feel even more melted.
Tim chuckled, ruffling Jon’s hair. “Documentary then?”
Sasha nodded. “As if anyone could say no to that face.”
Jon said nothing. In honesty he was a little confused about how he was supposed to exist now, all bubbly and giddy. Tim seized the remote from the sofa, Sasha dragged the throw pillows down, tugging Jon into a sitting position and shoving a pillow behind his back. The familiar sounds of the BBC filled his ears, replacing the jumpy happiness with something softer and more peaceful.
It was easy to melt, when Tim flung an arm over his shoulders to hold Sasha’s hand. They were friends, after all.
the difference between jontimsasha and timartinsasha is that in the first one if either jon or sasha stay up late doing whatever the other will eventually wake up get up and curiously go join them, only for tim to wake up alone at a godawful hour to go to the bathroom and be like Hey. Come On. Meanwhile in the other martin never fell asleep in the first place bc that man has insomnia and can hear sasha coming and going in the living room, so he gets up to make himself tea yknow chamomile or smth to help him sleep. He offers her one as well and thats how he gets her sleepytired enough to go rest u_u
*continues to spend hours of my life drawing increasingly mundane archive scenes*
Re: my stance on hot jon. He’s got the potential but generally is to much a hot mess to utilize it. When he first gets promoted he puts some effort in and it’s super effective! (spoiler: it doesn’t last long)
this is technically polychives but martin is only mentioned. while tim and sasha are busy tickling the heck out of jon, just imagine martin’s grocery shopping or taking a nice stroll.
—
“I knew I heard the sound of mischief.” Sasha leaned forward, against the back of the sofa. “Why are you bullying Jon this time?” she inquired with open interest.
“Bullying? Me?” Tim feigned hurt. “I was just asking Jon about his latest fashion choice. It’s not my fault that he’s so noisy.” Right on cue, Jon let out a scoff.
Shifting slightly to peer over Tim’s shoulder, Sasha gathered that he must’ve been talking about Jon’s socks. There was nothing especially eye-catching about them, save for the fact that they were definitely new. Lightweight, practical, and argyle, they were primarily patterned with shades of green. Nowhere near as bold as Tim’s colorful wardrobe, yet certainly on the brighter side for Jon.
“Oh, I see. Did Martin pick them? They remind me of that scarf he gifted you last year.” Though Sasha directed these words at Jon, she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer.
At the other end of the sofa, Jon appeared to be hiding between the cushions. Having abandoned the book he’d been reading to the floor, his hands now clutched onto a throw pillow.
“Jon,” Tim called out. “Sasha’s talking to you.” He tapped Jon’s right sole the same way one might tap a shoulder. Jon’s leg jumped just a bit in response, though it couldn’t go anywhere with Tim’s weight on top of it.
The situation boiled down to this: Tim had Jon’s feet trapped in his lap. Thoroughly engaged with his latest reading material, Jon hadn’t paid any mind to Tim joining him on the couch. Tim, for his part, had taken things slow, maneuvering until Jon’s feet rested on his left thigh. It wasn’t until Tim’s right leg hooked over his ankles that Jon startled and realized the position they were in.
“Guess he’s not in a chatty mood,” Tim shrugged, then eagerly grinned up at Sasha. “But anyway, you said these match Martin’s scarf? Care to elaborate on that?”
Sasha glanced further to the left, where there was just enough room to squeeze in beside Tim. It was almost as if he’d been expecting her… or expected Jon’s reactions to draw her out. Only minutes ago, she’d been planning to catch the new episode of What the Ghost? as it premiered… but considering all she knew about the host, Sasha had a feeling Georgie would understand.
—
Jon was doomed. He knew he was doomed. At least he could hide his face for once. Although, the fact he couldn’t see anything was a rather significant tradeoff. Sasha had taken a seat beside Tim. He was aware enough to realize that much. That meant she was also right by his feet.
Jon tried very hard not to twitch.
He hadn’t expected any attention when he’d slipped on the socks that morning. Sasha wasn’t far off the mark, as Martin had been the one to spot them at the shop. Jon had bought the pair without any real fuss, if only because Martin thought they suited him. He certainly hadn’t wondered if Tim or Sasha would notice, much less see it as an invitation.
“Hmmph!” He flinched at a sudden poke to his heel, recognizing it as Sasha when she resumed speaking.
“These darker diamonds, we could call them emeralds, are basically the same shade of green as that scarf.”
Poke-poke-poke-poke. Sasha made it a point to poke every “emerald” she saw. Given the nature of the argyle pattern, she was essentially poking all over his feet. Even muffled by a pillow, Jon convincingly imitated a squeaky toy. Every prod shot sensation straight up his legs, and he knew they were only getting started.
“Huh, alright, I see what you mean,” Tim agreed with faux thoughtfulness. “But what about this whole mess of white lines? Don’t you think they clash a bit?” Using a single finger, he traced along the diamonds, following the dotted lines that traveled through them. Randomly zigzagging in all directions, it successfully triggered a fit of giggles.
“Actually, I think they complement the green quite well. It’s a nice choice for Jon, in my opinion.” Sasha took hold of his left foot as she spoke, brushing over the patterned sole with her thumbs. “Oh! The material’s quite nice, too,” she commented as if he hadn’t started trembling. When the feeling spread enough to make him curl his toes, she casually pried them back to stroke the ball of his foot.
Across the sofa, Jon’s giggling intensified as he crushed the life out of the pillow in his arms. Admittedly, he was surprised Sasha hadn’t gone straight for his toes, though the grip she had on them still spelled danger. With the opening she’d just created, Tim was guaranteed to join back in any second. Jon’s nerves hummed with anticipation, jolting to life at the very next touch.
“Wow, you’re right, it feels so smooth!” Tim’s fingertips slid easily across the fabric. Further emboldened by the way Jon squealed, he escalated to rubbing with his entire hand. “Kind of on the thin side, though isn’t it?” he observed over the sound of poorly suppressed keening. “Not ideal for any real protection.”
“And what is it you think Jon needs protecting from here?”
Tim and Sasha were terrible, Jon decided, as they continued discussing him as if he weren’t right there. As if they weren’t literally holding his feet captive, tormenting him without the decency to even acknowledge it. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to shout. He wanted to curl up into a ball. However, he ultimately did none of those things, trying to maintain at least a scrap of dignity.
“Look, if you’re gonna waltz around in just your socks, they’d better be strong enough to hold up. What good are they if the slightest friction wears through them?”
“Ah, are you suggesting a quality check?”
Oh no. Oh no. Jon could tell where this was going. He swallowed a peep when Tim mirrored Sasha’s hold. Pulling his toes back enough to stretch his feet taut, they left him no wiggle room past his ankles.
“Better we find out sooner than later if these were a worthwhile investment. Now, let’s see… Where to begin?”
Then they dug right into his arches.
“PffffffffFAHAHAHAH!” Jon’s crumbling composure finally collapsed. Trying to keep quiet was absolutely impossible with nails scribbling up and down his feet. Even with socks on, it was maddeningly ticklish. Tim had been right about the lack of protection. Jon’s helpless cackling was clear confirmation, not that there’d ever been any real doubt.
“Any input from you, Jon?” Sasha piped up.
“NononOHOHO!” Jon babbled frantically. He clawed at the arm of the sofa in front of him, though it was obvious he’d never pull himself free. “Yohohou’re ahahawful! B-Both of yohohou!”
“Awful? But we’re only trying to help!”
“You know Jon. He’s just being stubborn.” Tim punctuated this with a playful pinch.
While Jon’s senses were too scrambled for him to notice, Tim and Sasha gradually migrated towards a new target. With every broad sweep across his soles, the tickling inched higher, bit by bit. They were clever, overwhelming him enough that he couldn’t keep track of any specific motions. Before he could even wonder what they planned to do next, fingertips were burrowing under his toes.
“Wha-!” Jon gasped before it hit him. Laughter exploded out of his lungs. He began to flail in earnest, hyperaware of the nails scratching at his toe stems. They tickled, and tickled, and tickled, and tickled, only easing up when Jon started wheezing. Several mirthful moments later, Tim announced his personal verdict.
“Well, I’d say these socks pass the test,” he concluded cheerfully. He massaged Jon’s toes for a few more seconds, inducing a bout of breathless giggles. “What about you two? Everyone in agreement?” Jon grumbled something unflattering. However, when he offered no further feedback, Sasha realized the decision had fallen to her.
Pausing to evaluate Jon’s condition, she found it to be more of a challenge than usual. Given she could only see the back of his head, reading his expression was off the table. “As a group of seasoned researchers, we could always be more thorough,” she replied, testing the waters. When Jon shifted but didn’t protest, Tim naturally followed her lead.
“Jon does like it when we put in extra effort. Would be a shame to let him down now. Any ideas on how to follow-up, Sash?”
She barely contemplated the question before her eyes lit up.
—
Roughly a minute later, Sasha returned from the bedroom, proudly brandishing her mysterious prize. “Holy shit,” Tim reacted, half-stunned, half-impressed. “You’re going to kill him,” he couldn’t help but say.
Immediately alarmed, as well as morbidly curious, Jon strained to see what exactly Sasha was holding. Straightening his crooked glasses, his eyes widened once he realized what he was looking at.
It was a comb… a French twist comb. Sasha occasionally wore them in her hair. Though simple in appearance, it was distinctly curved, and had more than enough teeth to send Jon’s heart racing.
“S-Sasha…” he practically whimpered, invoking her name like a plea. “That… That’s…“
“A perfect test. If this doesn’t snag the fabric, then nothing will.”
With that, Sasha reclaimed her seat, and preferring not to twist his neck, Jon had to stop staring. The knowledge of what was coming nearly had him vibrating, his entire body tingling with anxious excitement. Tim and Sasha must’ve communicated something silently, as Jon felt Tim’s palm smooth over his feet. Jon half-expected another barrage of scribbling to follow, but it remained an innocent soothing gesture.
A few seconds passed. Tim moved a hand to his legs, resting it lightly on the back of his calves. Nobody moved. Jon waited... and waited...
And then bucked hard when the comb made contact.
“Bloody hell!” Tim exclaimed with a start. “Are you trying to make me do a split?!” Humor colored his tone more than shock, though he was grateful he’d had the foresight to brace an arm over Jon’s legs. Jon, meanwhile, was absolutely hysterical, writhing and thrashing as much as possible. The comb was evil. Sasha was evil. He’d never realized just how mean she could be.
Scritch-scritch-scritch-scraaaatch. Sasha raked the comb across his sole. Alternating between brief grazes and long pulls from heel to toe, it was the most intense tickling Jon had ever experienced. He swore sharply when she switched feet and started scraping the comb sideways, clawing at any wrinkles or folds that appeared when he instinctively tried to flex.
Tim, in the middle, was content to just watch as Sasha tickled their boyfriend to pieces. Partly because he was still keeping Jon from kicking, but mostly because Sasha seemed to have everything in hand. The comb was far more wicked than anything Tim could’ve come up with, and he doubted Jon would be able to endure it much longer. Honestly, he was amazed Jon hadn’t folded instantly. Seeing Sasha with that thing had almost made him shiver.
Eventually though, the fight did leave Jon, and he collapsed weakly against the cushions. Once loud wailing trailed off into light sobbing, Tim and Sasha withdrew completely. They wasted no time rearranging themselves on the sofa, making sure Jon was comfortable as they settled on either side of him.
“Feel alright?” Tim brushed his hair back. Jon huffed, hiding his teary face against Tim’s chest.
“Yes,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat. “Despite your best efforts to murder me.”
“Aha, so you caught onto my true plan: tickle you to death and finally get that promotion!” Sasha fluttered her fingers over Jon’s neck as she said this, making him turn to defend the spot. As soon as his wobbly grin was exposed, she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
“This is mutiny,” Jon accused when Tim took the chance to kiss his other cheek. His already flushed face only grew warmer as they both lingered, cuddling him between them. It was embarrassing… but not at all unpleasant. Even if they had just been torturing him.
By the time Martin came home, Jon was fast asleep on their laps.
