I Hate Everything About You
Summary: What if Jon and Tim's fight at the end of MAG 65 had gone a little differently?
[Most of the dialogue is from the transcripts so obviously full credit to Jonny for those lines.]
Word count: 1952
Author's note: It's finally here! Sorry to keep you all waiting, but it's here now! I would apologize in advance but, I'd have to feel remorse to apologize so.
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The tape recorder clicked back to life.
“Supplemental. It looks like my posting on a few of the more tech-savvy boards appealing for statements has worked. While the incident itself seems ultimately inconsequential, I was able to convince Tessa to have a look at Gertrude’s laptop, claiming to have locked myself out,” Jon turned to the now glowing screen of the laptop. “I don’t know what she did - something about “command lines’’ and “administrative privileges” - But I now. Have. Access.” he let out a slow, shaky breath. “I’m almost afraid-” he froze at the sound of the door creaking open. Tim stepped through the door.
“Hey, where did you put the-” He stopped at the sight of Jon hunched over the recorder. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you while you were being suspicious-”
“It’s fine.” Jon cut him short before he could drag this nonsense out again.
“No, no, I’ll - catch you when you’re not scheming.” He threw his hands up and backed out the door, turning and reaching to pull it shut behind him. Jon knew he should leave it at that. But he couldn’t help the words that spilled from his mouth, unfortunately, loud enough for Tim to hear.
“No need to take that tone-” Tim whipped around faster than Jon thought possible.
“What?” There was a venom in Tim’s voice, the look of disbelief on his face made something twist in Jon’s stomach. He straightened in his seat, attempting to smooth things back down to their normal levels of discomfort.
“Nothing. I’ll see you later -”
“No.” Tim stepped back into the room, the door closing silently behind him. He turned the chair in front of Jon’s desk around, sitting on it. “What did you say?” He was leaning over the top of the back of the chair, still managing to tower over Jon even seated and at a distance. Jon once again readjusted in his seat, hoping he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt.
“I said there’s no need for the attitude, I know things have been difficult but -” Tim cut him off, again.
“Oh, they have, have they? ‘Things have been difficult?’ You’ve spent a month staring at that footage -” he leaned even closer, practically laying on the desk, “double-checking every moment, timing every tea break, looking at me like I somehow staged it - but no! You’re right: ‘Things have been difficult.’” His face was twisted in anger, his breathing was getting shallower.
“It just seems a little too convenient!” Jon could feel himself getting worked up, could feel his composure slipping.
“Excuse me!?” Tim sounded like he’d been shot. His mouth hung slightly agape, and Jon couldn’t place the look in his eyes.
“I mean, the CCTV is so corrupted that the police can’t just use it immediately, and then they happen to finish restoring it when I start really digging into the murder!? And if it was an option, why not clean it up when she first disappeared!?” He could hear himself getting louder, but he didn’t care. Tim wanted to talk, they were talking now. “And don’t get me started on the lack of cameras in the Archives - I know, I know Elias’s whole spiel about ‘signal degradation’ and ‘installation issues,’ but I don’t buy it. I mean, he got the CO2 system put in easily enough-”
“Shut. Up.” TIm’s voice cut through Jon, silencing him. He looked up to see Tim staring at the desk, teeth and fists both clenched, tight.
“What-”
“Shut up. Just stop talking. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you! We didn’t kill Gertrude, and no one wants to kill you, you pompous idiot!”
“Now, listen here-” Tims hand slammed into the desk.
“No. No. You listen, for once. I was fine in research. Happy. Then you asked me to be transferred here and suddenly it’s all monsters and killers and secret passages, oh my!” He was standing now, making his way around to Jon’s side of the desk. Jon turned in his seat to face him, not yet daring to stand. “And the worst thing - the actual worst thing - is that no one here has my back. With any of it! Elias doesn’t care, Martin just wants a tea party, and Sasha - ugh - and you! - You’re treating me like I’m somehow to blame for it all, like I didn’t suffer the worst right alongside you!” His breathing was ragged now, and Jon stood to meet him.
“Well, excuse me if my experiences have made me-” but Tim cut him off again, this time punctuated by shoving him backwards into the wall.
“Your experiences? Fuck you, I got eaten by worms because of you!” His fist was balled in the front of Jon’s shirt, holding him in place against the wall. Jon squirmed in his grasp, turning his head as far up as he could to try and meet Tim’s eyes. Tim’s gaze was hard and set on Jon and nothing else. If looks could kill, well, Jon was glad they couldn’t.
“Well, what do you want? You want sympathy?” He spat the last word out, and something flashed in Tim’s eyes. His grip on Jon’s shirt tightened and he pushed him further into the wall.
“You know what, yeah! Little bit of basic sympathy would have been nice!”
“Jane Prentiss was not my fault, I did not bring her to the Archives-”
“Oh, but you went off the deep end afterwards, didn’t you!? Everything went to hell-” He was gesturing wildly at the air with the arm not currently holding Jon in place. “-and when you actually needed to be in charge, you just hid down here and played with your tape recorder.”
“Well, what would you have me do!?”
Tim’s other arm hit the wall, caging Jon in.
“Anything! Anything that wasn't turning into a paranoid lunatic would have been fine! Anything that showed you could actually do your job!” His face was close now, and Jon could feel his breath on his cheeks. He took in a shaky breath.
“Well,” he let out a strained laugh, “Elias clearly thinks-”
“Elias should’ve fired you weeks ago!”
“What!?”
“After everything you’ve pulled, you should be gone. But no! Instead, we all get to talk about how you’re feeling, because we’re worried about our stalker boss. I, I can’t do this anymore!” Tim was shaking now, and it was sending shockwaves through Jon. Jon didn’t know what to say to help, because nothing would fix this. Whatever he and Tim had had before Jane Prentiss, before the Archives? It was gone. Dead and buried and never coming back no matter how much he dug. He could stand there searching for words forever and none of them would undo the damage. So instead, he said all he could think to, knowing it would be the final nail in the coffin.
“Then quit.” He heard his voice crack and prayed Tim didn’t, “If you hate it so much, leave your post in the Archives. Permanently.”
“Are you firing me?” The shock in Tim’s voice was like a twist of the knife Jon was trying to desperately pretend wasn’t driving its way through his heart. That same, unidentifiable look passed in his eyes, and it made Jon hesitate for a moment before proceeding.
“...I’m offering you a chance to quit. No notice period, I’ll even make sure you get the rest of the month’s paycheck. Just say the words.” The silence hung between them like a challenge. Neither of them moved, Jon could barely feel Tim’s breath on his face, almost like he was afraid breathing would be response enough. Tim slumped forward, forehead practically resting on Jon’s.
“I want to…” It came out more like a release of breath than words.
“So do it.” Jon’s voice dropped to match.
“I…Can’t.” His voice cracked, and Jon saw tears beginning to fall from his eyes.
“Why not?”
“I, I can’t! I don’t know - why can’t I quit!?”
“I-I don’t know. But I don’t think I can fire you either…”
“What?”
“It’s this place.”
“...I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. I’m trying to figure it out I-I’ve got the shape of it but…” He started to reach for him, to offer him some kind of comfort, but his hand froze halfway to Tim’s arm. It hung in the air along with all their unspoken words. “I’m sorry, Tim. Truly I am. But I cannot and will not trust you. This place isn’t right - you see that now. I don’t know how or why, but there is something very wrong with the Archives. And I don’t know who here is a victim of it - and who is an agent.” The words filled the ever closing space between them, and they stung like salt in an open wound. Tim took in a shaky breath.
“So… What do we do?”
“For now…? I suppose we just… do our jobs.”
“I don’t want to.”
“No.” Jon let the moment hang in the air. Let it be for a moment, acceptance washing over him. This was it, the end. Tim made no attempt to move, still gripping Jon’s shirt like a life-line, his other arm firmly planted against the wall, both keeping Jon from moving an inch. Jon’s own arm still hung in the air beside them, half extended to touch the arm holding his shirt. Tim’s grip tightened on Jon’s shirt, which he didn’t think possible, and his face twisted like he was deep in thought.
“Tim, can you please let go?” His voice was smaller than he was proud of, but he was worried to speak any louder would make Tim do something rash. His eyes were unfocused, still looking down at Jon, but more vaguely than trained on him like prey. He tried again, in case he hadn’t heard him.
“Tim.”
“No.”
“Please..”
“SHUT. UP!” His voice boomed with the sudden raise in volume, and before Jon even knew what was happening, his lips were crashing into his own. It was nothing like he’d imagined kissing Tim would be like, though he knew he didn’t deserve the soft, careful kisses he had imagined. He knew he didn’t even deserve this one. He let himself be manhandled, Tim’s hand moving off the wall to hold his jaw firmly in place while he kissed him. Jon let his hand finally fall against Tim’s chest. Flat at first, then eventually allowing himself to also clutch Tim’s shirt, pulling him further into him. He didn’t know how long he had, but he was going to relish in it as long as he could. Tim’s weight shifted almost like he’d stepped closer, god could they get any closer, and then all at once he was gone. He pulled back, putting some distance between them, and stared at Jon.
His face was flushed, his lips bright pink and still wet from the kiss. And that look in his eyes was back though Jon still couldn’t quite place it. Jon took in a breath, his whole body shaking from the effort, he knew he must look pathetic. Neither of them said anything, the silence between them back, but so different now. Tim shuffled further away from Jon, back towards the door.
“...I. um, suppose I’ll see you later.”
“I suppose so.”
The door creaked loudly behind Tim as he shut it. Jon fell back down into his chair, slumped with defeat. So they weren’t going to talk about it, great. What was one more thing they wouldn’t talk about? Jon thought of getting up and following Tim, but he knew Tim wouldn’t want that. His eyes fell to the tape recorder, wheels still spinning.
“End supplemental.” The tape recorder clicked off.
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c.w: fem pronouns
Just watched the new Hunger Games movie and I need to slobber on some district!Bakugou for a while! 😫😫
Like imagine you're both there for the Reaping and a random boy's name is called and both your shoulders drop just a bit because at it's not Bakugou. However, your name is called for the female tribute and Bakugou immediately volunteers. He can't step in for you since there has to be a female tribute, so he steps in as the male tribute so he can at least protect you during the games, even if that means killing or to be killed 😫😫
FUCKKCKCKCKKKKKKKKK and you're just bawling as he walks up to the stand, half out of sadness half out of rage; he finally, finally escaped the games (this being his last reaping), yet here he is, just offering himself up on a silver platter all because of you.
You can't say you don't love him even more for it, are even a little relieved, but... now you're both gonna die and you're not sure who to blame. Bakugo trades places with the random boy (who practically runs off stage) and goes in to comfort you, tell you it's all gonna be okay as the peacekeepers start leading you away, but instead of accepting the gesture, I can imagine you swat him off, angry because he didn't just save himself.
(It doesn't get any easier as time goes on—in waiting for your turn to say goodbye to your family, you can hear his mother berate him for being weak and softhearted, his father is practically nonverbal with tears, disowning him unless he's able to make it home. In boarding the train to the capital, your district mentors tsk at him for "choosing" a girl over a lifetime of freedom, and even the news can't seem to stop bringing up the fact he volunteered only after you were picked.
It makes Bakugo mad, furious even, and more determined to win given how they underestimate him... but it's not like that protects you along with him.)
and even though he never brings those moments up to you once they pass (and you forgive him enough to at least speak to him), there's still these question of what your strategy is going to be. Do you play up the fact that you're a couple, or do you pretend that you don't know one another (except at night, when you can finally sneak into each other's rooms without anyone noticing)? Do you team up in the games as soon as possible and do the whole thing together, or see how far you get alone???????????????
UGH, JUST.... WHY WOULD U DO THIS BAKUGO ????????!!!!!!! we know he gets you both out though
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