Work Text:
Jon was not a social man.
Perhaps it had something to do with having a bit of an abnormal childhood that made him a bit too awkward around other kids so he didn’t get the proper socialization skills he should have.
Or maybe he was just awkward in general.
He always gravitated towards anything else other than socializing—books, animals, or just staring into space holding imaginary conversations in his head where people could understand.
He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him a bit of a hardass. But it was easier to act like a dick than exhibit emotional vulnerability, especially when he knew most people would call him crazy for that book he read as a kid. Not that it was any excuse, but it was enough of one for him to rationalize that he was better off alone than admit that he didn’t want to be.
For better or for worse, that changed in college when he met Georgie.
They had quite literally forced him out of his shell—mostly by arguing with him about why he was an idiot when it came to people. Georgie pushed him to try talking to people that were like him, even to the point where he joined a band for a while.
He was still a hardass, that’s for sure, but it was like the world opened in a different way. Because despite being on his own for so long, he met someone who actually understood him.
He didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t an awkward guy that didn’t block out his emotions, because for some reason she was just able to read him.
For more reasons than Jon would probably ever admit, he owed Georgie a lot.
And it was probably that underlying admiration that made him feel like he owed a debt that brought him to where he was right now, standing in Georgie’s living room, eyes shifting suspiciously to the cat that they both shared custody of.
Georgie was holding the Admiral up by his cat armpits, wiggling him slightly as if to get Jon to take the boy.
Jon complied, cradling the cat like a newborn infant child.
He raised his eyebrow and asked, “What exactly is this about?” and Georgie grinned—instantly striking fear into Jon’s soul.
When Georgie grinned like that, it meant that Jon was about to have a week-long headache at least. The last time that expression had adorned their features in college, Jon had ended up drunkenly breaking into a cat café at three in the morning.
“I need you to babysit our son for a few weeks.” She said, and Jon eyed them even more suspiciously as she ushered him to sit on the couch.
Jon had unconsciously begun to pet the Admiral, who was purring very contentedly in his arms. He hummed, considering exactly how it would really work out with his new job and all. But realistically, he was never going to deny the opportunity to be with the Admiral. After all, the two of them had adopted him together, Georgie just had custody after their ‘divorce’ because Jon’s old flat didn’t allow animals.
Jon reached his conclusion quickly. “Sure, it’s just a little odd for you to be gone for a few weeks.” He commented, and Georgie’s grin shifted to one that was shyer.
“Why do you look so suspicious…?” Jon mumbled, looking within their micro-expressions for anything that could betray her motives. He was still cradling the Admiral.
For a split second, Georgie’s cheeks darkened, and that was all it took for Jon to recognize what was going on. Especially considering how silent she was being.
See, while Georgie understood Jon in a way no one else could, Jon could also understand Georgie in a way no one else could either. Part of it probably has to do with bonding over having odd experiences in a supernatural sense that no one else would believe, but also because they were best friends who spent most of their time together in college.
While Jon didn’t know if he could exactly call them best friends anymore since he was in the middle of trying to resolve their (platonic) relationship, he still had years of experience in reading Georgie.
Georgie turned their face away from Jon.
“Y-you have a crush!” Jon sputtered out, and a similar grin to Georgie’s previous one appeared on his face.
Georgie blushed darker, and Jon let out an airy laugh.
“I’m happy for you, Georgie.” He reassured them, and she turned back to face him.
Her eyes were narrowed, and she huffed. “Are you sure you aren’t a psychic or something?”
Jon shook his head and continued to pet the beloved Admiral, waiting for them to explain.
Georgie sighed and leaned back into the couch staring at the ceiling and not looking at Jon. “So, you know the podcast, right?”
Jon hummed in acknowledgment, seeing them glance in his direction of out the corner of his eye.
“Well,” she paused and turned to face Jon, apparently finding the courage. “I met someone that’s also kind of in the field.”
“And…?” Jon pressed.
She shyly knit her hands together. “And… well. Have you heard of the ‘GhostHuntUK’ YouTube Channel?”
Jon nodded. “Yes, you’ve talked about them before.” He met her eyes and bore a shit-eating grin again.
“Melanie King, right?”
Georgie lightly slapped his shoulder. “Yes, you prick. Now you’re just trying to make tease me.”
Jon didn’t deny it. “So, what exactly does this have to do with me watching the Admiral?”
From there, Georgie began to recant how the two had apparently been talking recently and thought it would be great ‘for the fans’—as if Jon didn’t see through that bullshit—to do a collab on both channels by going on a ‘tour’ of sorts in the U.S. to visit a bunch of haunted locations.
And that was how Jon got custody rights for a few weeks of the Admiral, and unbeknownst to the Archival Staff, would soon begin the unraveling of madness over the next few weeks.
“It’s too early, dammit,” Tim mumbled quietly enough that Jon couldn’t hear the profanity from his office, sighing loudly as he plopped his bag on his desk.
He rubbed his eyes as harshly as he could, hoping that maybe it would distract from the exhaustion and hangover from drinking far too late into the previous night…er—this morning.
Tim grabbed his $8 coffee and savored the taste. Internally, he was hoping that Jon wasn’t going to be in a bitchy mood today but since it was a Monday…that was unlikely.
Don’t get Tim wrong, he liked Jon a lot. He had his moments of being a dick, but recently he had taken to actually getting to know his assistants and the stick in his ass wasn’t quite as obvious as it used to be. Tim wasn’t sure if that was because it was difficult to be a dick to Martin, or if it was because Jon and his assistants had found common ground on account of Elias being the world’s bitchiest boss—even topping Jon! In reality, it was probably the constant trauma that the four had been put through together, but Tim really didn’t want to think about that at the moment.
Despite this, Jon was still a professional workaholic and was still the boss. Unfortunately for Tim, Sasha, and Martin, that meant he had to act like one.
“Morning, Tim!” Sasha called, sliding her own bag onto her desk with enthusiasm even Tim couldn’t muster after last night.
“Ughhh…” He groaned, and Sasha laughed, walking over to clap him on the back.
“I did tell you not to drink so much.”
At that moment, Martin walked through the door and Tim started to feel jealous that neither Martin nor Sasha looked hungover.
Martin called out a ‘morning’, also heading straight to his desk and Tim resisted the urge to not tell them both how much he hated them for having so much energy.
“Well,” Sasha started, glancing around the room, and moving her gaze to Jon’s office door. “Has he left his office this morning?”
Tim scoffed. “That’s under the presumption that he hasn’t been here since Friday.”
Tim could see Martin making a concerned face and Sasha rolling up her sleeves as if she was about to go in there herself to drag their 5’4 boss out and face society.
“Have either of you heard from him since Friday?” She asked, checking her phone.
Tim and Martin did the same, and Tim pulled up his messages with Jon.
The Bosstm
Saturday 5:56
Tim: hey boss! Just wanted to let u know Sash, Marto, and I are going out for drinks Sunday night if u wanted to join?
Tim: y’know, let loose,, have fun? u know what ‘fun’ is rght?
Jon: …
Jon: Tim, despite what you may think, I do know how to have fun.
Tim: so…yes?
Jon: No. I’m afraid I already have plans.
Jon: Sorry to disappoint, but I’m sure you three will have plenty of fun without me being there. I also don’t think it’s a good idea to go to the pub the night before work.
Tim: :P
Tim: And not get th e chance to mess with u?
Tim: what if I say pls? hmm?
Jon: Doesn’t change the fact that I have plans, Tim.
Tim: killjoy.
Jon: …
Tim: your ‘plans’ better not be to hole yourself up in your office over the weekend.
6:05
Tim: Jon?
6:13
Tim: hello?
6:45
Tim: jon is2g
Tim shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Nope. Not since I asked him to join us Saturday.”
Sasha hummed, and Martin’s look of concern seemed to deepen upon realizing the man probably did spend the weekend at the office. Tim had to block the curiosity in the back of his mind at how much Jon made in overtime.
“Right”, Sasha said, shoving the chair she had pulled out from her desk. “I’d say that marks the ground for ‘Code: Green’. Martin, start the tea run.” She clapped her hands together, and the three went into action.
Martin nodded and headed into the break room to begin making tea. Sasha grabbed a few bars from her granola stash and Tim grabbed a random blanket from their blanket pile that they had on hand for a Code: Green situation.
See, the archival staff, despite what Jon might think, had grown very accustomed to his habits. They had a whole coding system for what exactly was going on with him and how they needed to act. Code Green was for when he was overworking himself too much, even by Jon’s workaholic standards—there was a Code Red for when he was cranky, a Code Blue when Elias was being a bitch to Jon—they had a spreadsheet they made a few months ago.
By all accounts, they may be stuck at this job due to their shitty eldritch horror boss’ boss, but dammit that didn’t mean he wasn’t their friend.
Jon had worked his ass off to protect them—from Prentiss, Michael, and even Elias at times. This was how they returned the favor.
Sasha and Tim were about to break into Jon’s office when his office door suddenly opened.
And the air in the room itself froze.
Sasha didn’t dare to move. Tim’s jaw was on the floor.
He was wearing a baby carrier.
Jon was wearing a fucking baby carrier.
Strapped to Jon, was a neon pink baby carrier with a black and white fluffy cat purring loudly into his chest.
Jon, apparently oblivious to the shock that had caused both Tim and Sasha to be nearly foaming at the mouth, shoved past them with a stack of folders in his arms—plopping them onto each of their desks.
“Right,” he started, glancing around the bullpen. He paused, noticing someone was missing.
The cat was still purring into his chest. Tim still hadn’t picked his jaw up off the floor.
“…where’s Martin?”
“…t-tea.” Sasha stuttered out, managing better than Tim who had begun to shake.
Jon nodded. “Well, whenever he gets back, I put the statements on each of your desks I would like you to work on today.” He took a moment to pet the head of the cat that was strapped to his chest. What the fuck. Why was there a cat strapped to his chest why—Tim still hadn’t recovered his train of thought even to listen.
“If you could please work with Martin today, Sasha,” Sasha’s gaze snapped away from the cat to Jon. “He had some difficulty last week and I think he could do well with your guidance about formatting. If you’re too busy or something to that effect, I’ll see if I can make some time between statements.” Jon paused, turning back around to his office.
“Just let me know, I trust you all to know what’s best.”
Finishing his sentence, he walked back into his office and shut the door.
The air fell completely silent between Tim and Sasha before it erupted into chaos.
“Was that a fucking cat!?”
“He’s wearing a baby carrier!?”
Tim held his hand up, leaning over his desk like he just ran a mile and breathing heavily. “Did he just say ‘please’ to you?”
Sasha grimaced. “Oh god, he did.” She gasped, fully facing Tim, who had fallen to the floor. “Do you think he’s been abducted? Our Jon isn’t that nice to say please and say that he trusts us in the same conversation.”
“Our Jon isn’t that nice, period!” Tim shrieked,
Tim was heaving now. Sasha had dramatically collapsed into her chair in an existential crisis. Martin had just walked through the door with multiple cups of tea on a tray.
“Oh! I brought the tea, did—” he paused, looking over Tim and Sasha who both looked as if they had aged fifty years.
“Guys?” Martin asked, hesitantly. “Are you alright? Did something happen with Jon?”
Sasha and Tim just screamed.
Tim grabbed Sasha. “We can’t do this to the poor man, Sash. He’s going to have a heart attack and his ghost is going to add to all the spooky stuff going on around here!”
After Martin had returned from making tea for the Archives, Sasha and Tim had caught him up on what just happened. He hadn’t believed them at first, of course. It wasn’t uncommon for the two to play pranks—but this one was just too absurd even for them to make up, at least that’s what the two had assured him.
Martin hadn’t been convinced, if the small frown on his face didn’t make that obvious enough. But Martin was too curious now for his own good, and after setting tea on all three of their desks, Martin had grabbed the last cuppa and headed to Jon’s office door.
“Martin—!” Sasha started to call his name, but it was too late.
Martin lightly knocked on Jon’s door and began to open it after a muffled ‘come in’ had sounded from behind the door.
It was if it all happened in slow motion.
Martin opened the door and walked in.
Tim and Sasha peeked from after him once he entered.
Jon turned around after grabbing something from one of his shelves.
The cat was still asleep in the neon pink carrier.
Then, everything sped up.
Martin froze and the cup of tea fell to the floor with a shattering crack, spilling all over the wooden floor.
Jon’s face went from neutral to sputtering, grabbing for paper towels off to the side and chucking them on the floor to wipe up with his foot, all while returning his hands to the position of cradling the baby carrier like a pregnant mother.
“—Martin! What on earth has gotten into you!” Jon lectured.
Martin still hadn’t moved, and his face was blank. The glint in his glasses from the fluorescent lights in Jon’s office hid his eyes, but his mouth formed a tight line.
Jon was still furiously trying to clean up the tea with his foot.
Sasha and Tim were wondering if Martin had died and gone to heaven.
Without warning, Martin muttered an apologetic sound and turned on his heel, walking out of Jon’s office to his desk. He had closed the door in the process, all while in the background Jon was still yelling out his name.
Tim and Sasha looked at each other.
Then they looked at Martin, who was now sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, blushing furiously.
The two couldn’t blame him, their cheeks were red as well.
By lunchtime, none of them had yet to recover.
They had gotten minimal work done, but enough where Sasha was sure Jon couldn’t be that pissed. No words were spoken out loud, but their group chat had gone wild after they all regained most of their composure.
The ones Jon yells at (minus Jon)
Monday 11:34
The one that actually workstm: this isn’t some kind of mass hallucination, right?
TimTim: if it is i think id like to stay in the hospital
TimTim: he had a baby carrier
TimTim: my soul has ascended nothing else matters
The one that actually workstm: same.
The one that actually workstm: I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy since research
TimTim: @teaboy
TimTim: @teaboy
TimTim: @teaboy
TimTim: u doing ok buddy?
11:37
TimTim: @teaboy Marto?
teaboy: …no
The one that actually workstm: yeah that’s fair
Whether a good thing or not, Jon still had yet to leave his office after the “tea incident”, which is what the assistants had now started referring to it as.
None of them had the heart to try to force Jon out, as they were all currently in the depression stage of internally working out what had happened and didn’t have the energy to try to convince him otherwise.
At least they hadn’t, until Jon walked out on the dot at noon, heading to the breakroom. He didn’t spare any of them a glance, and the assistants all took a moment to confirm that they really hadn’t been hallucinating the incident.
Then, one after one, they snuck behind after him—hiding behind walls, ensuring that he went first.
Once he did, they all stood off to the side of the entrance of the breakroom, muttering to each other about what to do.
Finally, Sasha sighed. “You know what, this is stupid. It’s just Jon. Yeah, it’s weird, but it’s not like he isn’t a person.” Martin stared at her as if she just said the most absurd thing in the world. Tim nodded, very much in agreement with Martin.
“He’s carting around a cat like a human child, Sasha.”
But as usual, Sasha was the voice of reason. “Yes. And now I want to find out why.”
And there she went, apparently having reached the acceptance stage far faster than Tim and Martin. But they still followed her into the breakroom.
Jon either didn’t hear them or was ignoring them completely as he dished what looked like homemade cat food into a dish, and took the beautifully fluffy cat out of the carrier, letting the cat munch to heart’s content.
Jon then opted to take off the carrier, setting it in one of the far chairs next to the window before grabbing a granola bar out of one of the cabinets.
“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Sasha asked him, having entered the breakroom and beelining for the fridge.
Tim and Martin just stood in the doorway.
Jon played with his ponytail as he sat down in the chair next to the baby carrier and unwrapped his ‘lunch’.
“Yes…?” He answered, as if that wasn’t unhealthy.
Sasha did not like that answer apparently and pushed a spare sandwich she had brought into his hands. “Have this. It’s simple but it will give you more energy than a granola bar.”
Jon smiled.
Sasha, Tim, and Martin froze.
“Thank you.” He said, and the cat took a moment from eating out of his dish to sneeze.
After the interesting dynamics of lunch, everything sort of turned back to normal.
The assistants were still a bit of a stuttering mess, especially after Jon revealed to them that he was watching the cat (“Admiral, is his name,” Jon informed them) for an old friend from university for the next couple of weeks (“Couple…of w-weeks...?”), and had the idea for the baby carrier after deciding he didn’t want to leave the Admiral at home alone for so many hours every day. Tim had really had to resist the urge to call Jon cute after that, but he managed once Jon half-heartedly lectured them for spilling tea in his office.
So, things were back to…normal-ish.
Every so often, Jon would walk out of his office to feed the Admiral or let him out so he wasn’t just cooped up in Jon’s office, and the assistants could actually attempt to get work done.
The next few days followed in a similar fashion, with the Admiral becoming comfortable enough to start perching himself on the assistant’s desks.
Within a week, the Admiral became the Archive therapy cat, and whenever someone in the Archives—whether the assistants, Jon, or statement givers—needed emotional support, the Admiral was there to curl up in their arms and purr.
The Admiral was also great for pest control, much to the dismay of Martin who had wanted to save the spiders that had wanted to make their way into Jon’s office. He had even caught several odd-looking worms!
Jon walked out of his office in a bit of a hurry to his assistant’s desks. Strapped to his chest was the Admiral, apparently in the middle of a nap.
While muted, the slight look of concern on his face was enough to bring their attention to him.
“Is something wrong, Jon?” Martin had asked, rather nervously as Jon seemed to be stressed.
Jon clutched the Admiral.
“Elias is coming down to the Archives, and I need you all to pretend the cat isn’t real.”
“What?” Tim asked, unsure if he heard correctly.
Rather urgently, Jon grabbed Tim by the shoulders and stared him dead in the eyes. “The Admiral doesn’t exist. He is not here.”
Sasha stifled her abrupt laughter, but not well enough.
She held her hand up. “Wait. Wait—Jon, are you wanting us to gaslight Elias?”
Tim grinned at that and cheekily gave the Admiral a few scritches on his tiny little head, unfortunately, interrupted by Jon turning to Sasha.
He pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t call it, gaslighting, per se.”
Surprisingly, Martin spoke up. “You just want us to pretend that we don’t understand if Elias tries to ask about the Admiral?”
Jon nodded. “Exactly.”
Sasha crossed her arms. “But shouldn’t he already know about the Admiral…with those spooky powers and all?”
Jon grimaced. “Not exactly. The Eye has decided it likes me better, so when it informs me that he’s trying to spy on any of us, I start projecting sea shanties, so he gets pissed.”
Tim burst into laughter. “That,” he wiped his eyes, “is the funniest fucking thing I’ve heard boss.”
Martin was also giggling, finding immense joy in knowing from his experience of working with Peter for a brief time that what he had told Jon about had actually come in handy.
Jon smirked. “Our HR Department is nonexistent so I have to do what I can somehow.”
Elias stared.
The Admiral stared back, unimpressed.
“Ah, Elias. Is there something you need?” Jon asked, after having turned around from a filing cabinet where he had filed one of the less realistic statements away.
The two had been having a silent standoff since Elias had walked through the door.
He knows the Eye would never betray him, but there is no way that Jonathan Sims was wearing a neon pink baby carrier with a fluffy black and white cat strapped to his back.
“…are you wearing a cat…?” He asked and swore that the cat started glaring at him.
Jon’s face didn’t betray any emotion. “…cat?” He asked, sounding just as confused as Elias had.
Elias tried to See what was going on, but all he could hear is those blasted sea shanties that Peter would always torment him with during their third divorce when he realized how much Elias hated them.
And what…? Elias turned to the assistants, all of which had empty minds? That’s impossible.
“Jon. That is a cat on your back. You are wearing a baby carrier.”
Jon quirked a brow. “Elias, I do not know what you are talking about. My clothes fit within the dress code policy…?”
Elias could feel a vein threatening to pop out in his forehead as he turned to the Archival assistants.
“Martin.” Elias picked out, and the man in question turned his head towards them.
If there was anyone that would be unable to lie about this, it would be Martin.
“Why is your boss wearing a cat?” He asked, attempting to Compel him.
Martin, however, was fully unphased—not that Elias was able to tell.
He quirked his head to the side, in mock confusion. “Sir, I’m not sure what you mean. Jon doesn’t have a cat?”
What the fuck. Elias thought crudely. There is no way I am imagining this.
He attempted to do the same for Sasha and Timothy, both of which responded in the same manner Martin had.
Jon sighed in annoyance. “Elias, I understand that you are under quite a bit of stress, but I do not see how that warrants you taking it out on me and my assistants.”
The cat hissed at him.
It hissed at him.
Elias huffed. “Jon, I am doing no such thing. You all are gaslighting me into believing that there is not a cat strapped to your back.” Elias waved his arms in further frustration.
“I do not know how you are doing it but know that this will not go unpunished.”
With that, Elias stormed out of the Archives, blissfully unaware of Martin and Tim high-fiving each other.