#prejonmartin

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Eaten By Improperly Filed Statements (Part 2)

This chapters from Jon’s POV, and it’s a little shorter than I would of liked it to be but I really enjoyed writting it so I hope someone enjoys reading it! The muscles in Jon’s back ached, protesting as he slumped over his computer, staring at the screen.

Jon re-read the email once more, hot dread filling his stomach. His request for time off was denied.

His stomach rolled. Jon needed that time off after getting his flu shot. The after-effects always hit him hard. He could already feel a low-grade fever coming on, chills running down his spine.

It was stupid of him though asking for time off when he just recieve a promotion...Sasha wouldn’t of need the time off.

Jon gathered a few files, hoping that his assistants wouldn’t be too upset with a little extra work, not looking forward to widening the ever growing gap between him and his...friends.

Getting to his feet he swayed slightly the room spinning around him as he grasped the edge of his desk, trying to get his bearings. It took longer than he would have liked but eventually his vision cleared.

Jon let go of the desk a bit wary, grabbing his cane as it seemed he would need the extra support today.

Making his way down to the archives he stopped, hearing voices. He thought about turning around not wanting to upset them by interrupting their break time, but then he heard it.

They were talking about him.

It froze Jon in place, hearing the way they talked about him, the snide comments mixed in with Martin’s weak attempts to defend him.

Then he heard it…

“Jon shouldn’t have taken the job he couldn’t handle,” Sasha snapped, back irritated, “now he’s got the job, and he isn’t even doing anything with it!”

Her words cut through Jon like knives, and he barely noticed his stack of neatly organized files slide to the floor. The voices stopped…

Jon turned on his heels, a sick feeling filling his stomach as he quickly walked back to his office, shutting the heavy door behind him with a thud.

Once inside Jon slid to the ground letting his cane clatter to the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes, sliding down his hot cheeks. He sobbed pulling his knees to his chest.

Jon knew the promotion had been hard on Tim and Sasha, but it was one thing to imagine the resentment they had for him and another to hear in person.

If he’d known he’d be breaking some invisible rule of friendship by taking this job...he would have turned it down. Let Elias fire him.

It would have been for the best...Sasha deserved it more anyway. She wouldn’t fumble around pushing her work onto other people.

He swiped at the tears, choking down a sob.

Pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, Jon could feeling a headache coming on. Crying always did that to him.

He had some pain killers on his desk, but it seemed so far away.

All he felt like doing at the moment was wallow in his own misery, it’s what he deserved for being such a rotten person.

A soft knock interrupted his self deprecating thoughts, and a soft tentative voice called out his name.

“Jon?”

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New Year New Stress

Woo first fanfiction of the New Year! Based on this prompt sent to me by an anon: Jon trying to fight through an ailment while recording a statement. (Surprise, it doesn't go well.) Martin tries to help Jon despite him being adamant about hiding himself away. Jon’s not really reading a statement in this but he is still being irresponsible with his health so I hope you still enjoy it!

A distant buzzing tugged at the edges of Jon’s consciousness.

He wasn’t quite awake enough to place where the sound was coming from, and his body was currently protesting being awake, so ignoring it seemed like his best option for the moment. The buzzing went away as quickly as it came.

Jon could feel his sore body sinking into the comfort of cushions underneath, dozing off.

It didn’t last long, as he was soon dragged back to consciousness by someone shaking his shoulder. He grumbled, burying his face further in the blankets, not ready to be awake.

“I know boss, I’m don’t want to be awake right now either.” A tired voice told him, a bit too loudly for his liking, a sharp pain shooting through his temple.

Jon wrinkled his nose before blinking his eyes open, squinting at the too-bright lights of Tim’s apartment.

It took a minute for his brain to catch-up before he could distinguish what he was doing in Tim’s apartment.

He remembered discussing New Year's plans, and when it became apparent none of them had made any, Martin suggested a small get together at one of their flats. Tim had been the first to volunteer his own, and they’d managed to ‘bully’ him into joining them.

Jon remembers a little bit of the previous night but not much, which he could probably attribute to the alcohol. Leaving him with what he was sure was a nasty hangover.

What he couldn’t understand is why Tim was waking him up at an ungodly hour when he distinctly remembered them having the day after New Years off.

Jon scowled at Tim, looking Tim over, glad that he at least looked as exhausted a Jon felt, and the only words Jon could think to say were, “What the hell?” They even sounded odd to him coming out of his mouth.

Tim snorted, amused with how disheveled Jon was at the moment, “Yeah, I know, but double boss called, demanding we come in,” He said, rolling his eyes, “something about a critical file gone missing. Still don’t know why it couldn’t have waited.”

Ice filled the pit of Jon’s stomach as he processed what Tim was saying. He sat up straight, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, with the dread filling the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t look so panicked.” Tim teased, pressing two paracetamol into the palm of Jon’s hand, along with a bottle of water, “ I’m sure it just got misplaced. It won't take long for the four of us to find it.”

Jon nodded, trying to let his co-worker's words ease his nerves.

~

That conversation happened nearly over an hour and a half ago, as they were still filtering through hundreds of statements with no luck in finding the missing file.

Currently, Jon was sifting through the mass amount of papers on his desk to find some semblance of organization. His fingers resting on his temple as he messaged it.

He’d already downed the maximum amount of paracetamol he could take, but it didn’t seem to be doing much for the throbbing in his head. It was a struggle to stay motivated, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t the only one suffering through this.

Jon buried his face into his hands, exhausted, swallowing with a dry clicking. Wincing, he reached for his water bottle, taking a couple big gulp to quench his thirst for the moment.

He was still feeling a bit dehydrated, and the dry air and the dust in archives were wreaking havoc on his poor throat and sinus, leaving him with a fuzzy, tingly sort of ache feeling building behind his eyes that felt all too familiar.

Rubbing the area over his sinus, Jon hoped to quell the feeling, only making it worst until, “HUH’RSHIII!” a heavy sneeze had him bending nearly in half, his nose buried in his hands.

Jon stayed that way for a moment, his head throbbing.

Sniffling, Jon grimaced, feeling the slickness coating his hands. Reaching for a tissue, he blew his nose, pulling a little bottle of hand sanitizer out of his bag.

He used a generous amount, feeling significantly less disgusting afterward.

Someone cleared their throat, and Jon nearly jumped out his skin, his head snapping up to find Martin nervously lurking in the doorway. Jon could feel a hot red flush creep up his face as he wondered how much Martin had seen.

“I brought you some tea!” Martin exclaimed, raising the mug a little to show him. Normally Jon would grip at Martin for making tea instead of working, but honestly, tea sounded terrific.

Jon hastily straightened up some paperwork on his desk, leaving a small empty space for Martin to set the mug, “Any luck finding the file?” Jon asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Martin groaned, setting the mug of tea on his desk, “No, unfortunately,” He answered, “Tim’s convinced that Elias just misplaced it and is trying to blame it on us.”

Jon huffed a soft chuckled, coughing dryly. Martin looked him over, frowning, “How are you doing, by the way?” He asked, worry lacing his tone, “You look…”

“Terrible…” Jon provided, looking up at Martin.

Martin snorted, “I was going to say rough.” He answered, “Can I bring you anything else?” He asked, sounding so earnest that it almost made Jon tear up.

“The tea’s fine, Martin.” Jon answered a bit curtly, “What I’d really like is to find this stupid file?” He groaned.

“Right, I’ll get back to that!” Martin told him, clapping his hands together before standing back up. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He said, hurrying out of the room.

~

Jon stumbled out of his office ten minutes later when it became clear he wasn’t going to find what he was looking for in his office.

A crumpled tissue pressed to the underside of his nose, the box under his arm as it was clear his allergies weren’t going to let up any time soon.  His nose was taking on a pinkish hue from all the abuse.

It was going to only get worst when he entered the stacks.

He could already feel his eyes getting watery, and he was sure they were already a lovely shade of pink. Jon cleared his irritated throat, coughing, rubbing his aching sinuses.

Standing in front of the endless rows of files, he couldn’t help but feel completely overwhelmed, leaning against a cool metal cabinet, sinking down to the floor. His whole body throbbed, eyes stinging with unshed tears as Jon started to realize how long this was going to take.

Jon’s breath snagged harshly, “HAH’GXSSshh! HIH’GXSsht!” He stifled his sneezes harshly, exhaustion seeping into every muscle in his body.

He closed his eyes, resting his head against the cool metal. He just needed a short break…

~

Jon awoke to a cool hand pressed against his cheek.

Opening his eyes, he found Martin's face staring back at him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, “Hey there.” Martin said, smiling softly, “How are you doing?”

“S’fine just a hangover…” Jon slurred a bit, still feeling a bit hazy, “need to get up.” He tried pulling himself up, but Martin just pushed him back down gently.

“Hangovers don’t typically come with fevers, Jon,” Martin told him, brushing his hair gently away from his face, “I think you should probably call it quits for today. The rest of us can keep looking.”

Jon tried to protest weakly, but he was no match for Martin’s fussing.

He let Martin gently direct him to the cot in document storage, allowing himself to be tucked under the covers. The last thing he heard before his eyes slipped shut, and he passed out was Martin’s soft voice telling him to: “Have a good nap.” Before he fell into a blissful slumber.