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waterfallofspace · 2 months ago

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Op I would eat up anything w/ Tim that you write but since you're askin' ,,,,maybe cat allergies with a lil bit of timsasha? 👀 -Tim anon

hello!! this took me so long to finish oh gosh... however here is Tim and Sasha ft. Tim with cat allergies!! also i'm not sure if you wanted it more on the romantic side but it didn't quite go that way when i was writing it, i'm sorry!!! i hope you will enjoy either way :')

“Happy new flat!”

Tim thrusts the bouquet of flowers out in front of him, a shimmery gift bag hanging precariously from his wrist. He peeks round the edges of the daisies to see Sasha in the doorway, clad in pyjamas and a cardigan that’s swallowing her, giving him a bemused smile.

“Sorry, is eleven am on a Saturday too early for you? Need some more beauty sleep?” he teases. Sasha rolls her eyes.

“Come on in. I was just making coffee.”

When he steps inside, there is indeed the heady scent of coffee in the air, along with the telltale burbling of a percolator atop a stove. Sasha regards him with amusement as he slips his shoes off excitedly.

“So? Are you going to give me the tour?”

“Slow down,” she laughs, “We’re having coffee first, Mister Morning Person. And,” she raises an eyebrow, “I won’t let you hold my present hostage for that much longer.”

“Greedy,” Tim quips, but holds up his one free hand to show his acquiescence. Sasha takes the flowers from him as she leads him into the kitchen.

It’s light and airy, filled with light wooden countertops and morning sunlight. Tim can see the beginnings of a few touches of Sasha herself: her favourite mug waiting beside the stovetop, tea towels with brightly geometric patterns, a clock in the shape of a daisy on the wall.

She locates a vase for the real daisies and sets about arranging them, her soft, sage green sleeves pulled up to the elbow. Tim allows himself a smile as he sees her linger to touch their petals gently, to get them just right.

“Thank you for these,” she says, a smile in her eyes as she holds out a hand, “Now the gift.”

“Fine, fine! It’s like you’re not even happy to see me.” He hands it over anyway, watching the grin unfurl as she opens the bag.

“Oh!” She says with a laugh. In her hands is a framed photo, one of the two of them, a stupid photo snapped when they were a little too drunk at the last Christmas party. They’re clinging to each other, cheek-to-cheek, grinning ecstatically for the camera. Inexplicably, they’re both covered in glitter, and the camera has caught it in violet and silver glimmers on their cheekbones. “I’ll give it pride of place.”

“You had better,” Tim tells her. The coffee pot begins to whistle, and he wanders over to remove it from the heat. Sasha tails him, retrieving a second mug from the nearest cupboard. “The next time I come over, I expect to see it. If you lock it away in a cupboard somewhere, I swear to god…”

“I would never,” she laughs. “Mostly because you have easy access to the coffee I drink in the office, and I wouldn’t put it past you to poison me out of spite.”

“I would never!” Tim echoes, a dramatic hand pressed to his chest, before he turns to pour them each a cup of coffee. “This is a lovely kitchen, you know.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sasha says warmly. “There’s so much more space than in my old flat, and-oh, bless you!” She reaches out a hand to steady Tim’s own as he directs a sudden sneeze into the crook of his elbow. “Please don’t spill the coffee.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He replies, half-sniffling, half-laughing. Spills averted, they take their mugs to the kitchen table.

“Who took that photo, by the way? I barely remember it being taken,” Sasha asks as she sits down.

“Funny you should ask that,” Tim says, “Actually, it was-oh, hello, who are you?” His eyes flicker down towards the floor to rest on the cat that’s just wandered into the kitchen, sleek and black with perfectly round copper-coloured eyes.

“Oh! I forgot.” Sasha gestures between the two of them with a hand. “Tim, Seabiscuit. Seabiscuit, Tim. I’m looking after him for a uni friend.”

Tim squints at Seabiscuit, who sits down opposite his chair and fixes those bright coppery eyes directly on him.

“Seabiscuit, huh? He doesn’t look much like a horse.”

He holds a hand out. After a moment, the cat deigns to rise and sniff at his fingers. A second later, and he’s purring, pushing his head against Tim’s hand.

“I knew you two would get along,” Sasha smiles, taking a sip of her coffee. Tim just chuckles, rubbing Seabiscuit’s ears before he returns to his own mug.

He takes a large swig, concentrating on the way the coffee scalds his tongue, trying to distract himself from the way each breath is beginning to bring with it an inevitable itch. The sneeze when they were making coffee no longer seems so insignificant.

“So, who did take the photo?” Sasha asks.

“Oh yeah,” Tim rubs at his nose with the back of a hand, “It was Jon.”

“Wait, wait wait. He was there? I thought he didn’t go to office parties?”

“Me too, but- well. Martin s-said-” He breaks off, frowning, still rubbing fitfully at his nose. His breath is just on the edge of catching, his eyes burning now, and he only just has the presence of mind to uncurl his fingers from round his coffee mug before-

“hh-KTSHH-uh!...huh-...huh’KTSCH-uu!-fff-fuck, sorry.” His apology is premature. He twists to the side again, a third, more desperate sneeze tearing against his throat. “huh’TSCHUU!-ohhh, god.”

“Woah, Tim, bless you!”

Scrubbing at his eyes, he doesn’t see Sasha’s quick glance between him and Seabiscuit, still loitering near his chair. Decisively, she stands and circles the table to pick up the cat, carrying him gently from the room. As she goes, she says over her shoulder, “You could have told me sooner you’re allergic to cats!”

Tim, sniffling persistently now, grimaces. “I forget sometimes!” He calls back, before sneezing again, twice, into the crook of his arm.

When Sasha returns, it’s with a box of tissues and a packet of antihistamines. “Your eyes are going all puffy,” she says as she sets them down in front of him and goes to fetch a glass of water. “Should I be concerned?” There’s a bite of anxiety underlying her voice that belies her genuine worry.

“No, no,” Tim waves her off and grabs a tissue, taking a moment to blow his nose before he answers. “Cats just make me… huh’KSHHuu!-ugh. Yknow, itchy and sneezy. Nothing life-threatening.” He accepts the water and downs one of the pills with practiced ease.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sasha says. When Tim raises an eyebrow at her, she cocks her head to one side, regarding him. “The puffy eyes are a good look on you. Very love-sick romance protagonist.”

Tim makes a face and grabs another tissue to sniffle into.

“Why did you call him over if you’re allergic to cats?”

“God, Sasha, who do you take me for? I like cats-” His breath stutters and he smothers another sneeze into the tissue, followed by a groan. “They just don’t like me. Adorable little bastards.”

Sasha shakes her head, a smile on her lips. “Next time you’re coming over, I’ll stock up on antihistamines.”

“Got it, boss.” Tim gives her a thumbs up. “I still want the-...hh-....hh’KKSHHuh!-...the tour of the whole place. You’re not getting out of it just because of this.”

“Bless you!” She pulls a fresh tissue from the box and holds it out to him. “Let’s wait for the pills to kick in properly first. Then I’ll show you around, I promise.”

#god.... i always need more t/im hes just..... ashddshkj i love him.#this is so good op oh my GOD i cant even-#him KNOWING but still calling over the cat and 'oh i forget sometimes' and s/asha teasing him about how he looks #puffy eyed and all- adjsnkg #they're so adorable i love a good pair of friends that just know each other so well #and the picture thing!!!! j/on taking it???? small part but means SO MUCH to me #and this was just adorable i adore how fast hes just ruined andashdijkf #thank you for sharing op!!!!! always love some t/m/a and always will #especially t/im my best guy my king my icon my love #waterfallreblogs

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waterfallofspace · 2 months ago

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Do you still have any interest in Trigun? Just curious

I do, but I'll admit, the hyperfixation stage is over, which makes it a lot harder for me to really dig into it, but ww is still my type, and blondie will always be adorable, so yeah! I still do enjoy the show, just maybe the snz aspect of it fell off a lil for me~ thanks for the ask!

#waterfallasks #thanks non! sorry this answer is so middle of the line~#im very much a 'can enjoy it again even if i dont right now' person #but also a VERY deep 'my hyperfixations own me' person so~ weird middle ground i walk

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waterfallofspace · 2 months ago

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still training?? in your condition???

2 hr. rough sketch animation | ju//jutsu ka//isen

!!! do not repost to non snz blogs !!! pls&ty

#hello hi no but youre incredible you know that?????#some of the best art on here i swear- AGHAGH the LINES!!!!!#they make me so happy and its so SMOOTH and i love how you draw these lil guys #the eyebrows alone deserve a whole post and essay worth of praise AHGAHG #eating this. climbing the walls and biting a table- affectionately ofc <333 #this is just amazing and i am in AWE and GOADHSHJS!!!! idont have good words so #take my keyboards smashes please and know im doing unholy screeching adsjkjdkjdksjkdjk sdhhdsdhdhdhshd #waterfallreblogs

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waterfallofspace · 2 months ago

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auhgssufhgh... g- g/ojo... allergic.... im begging.... anything i mean anything of this man just wrecked and itchy and him hello hi aggufh him

totally only if you want to though!!! and if u want more specifics I could maybe figure something out, but i'd honestly just lose it for anything with Him <3 augghuhg him

hihi !! it's only been *checks watch* one billion business years since I asked for requests and then absconded like a criminal!!!!! but I return bearing gifts!!!! have an allergic gojo!!!!

#DJSOAKDJSAKLG barking- howling- climbing a wall- eating a table #thank you so much for filling this omg (and no worries about length! i can take forever to answer reqs too- i get it <3)#but AFJISDKNFKGAFKDGL LOOK AT HIMMMMMMM godgodgodgodgodogd aghfadjfskms arhhhghgh #him not wanting to put them down is DNASHM yes. yes.#ALSO it wasnt on purpose but. him snzing off the glasses. is so. shrimp fried rice. (chefs kiss) just ADAJSAIOFKG i love this thank you #it is beautiful ADUHG asjidkfmgds sdhsdhsdh i love it.#waterfallreblogs

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waterfallofspace · 2 months ago

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Hello! Just wanted to say that reading your fics has reawakened the t/m/a hyperfixation in me. I am loving it so I must thank you for that XD

Since you asked for prompts, would you consider writing J/on trying to push through a massive dust allergy in the archives? Maybe he forgot to take his meds and is still trying to quietly tackle the monumental task of organizing G/ertrude's hellscape of an office by himself. Unfortunately for him, it doesn't go to plan ^v^"

Have a good day/night! 🧡

I'm glad!! it's such a hyperfixation for me too haha~ thank you for the prompt, I hope I managed to do it some form of justice!~ this is early days though, so do be warned that Martin and Jon will not have the uh, more friendly vibes we know of them from later!~ <3 which did actually hurt a little to write ;-;

Malfunctions

The one in which Jon experiences some... bodily malfunctions.

Word Count: 3.5k Characters: Jon, Tim, Martin

“Boss?”

Jon waves a hand for Tim to enter, barely glancing up from the paper he’s scouring. If he’d have known what kind of state the archives was in when he was offered the position… well he’d still have taken it, but he might have negotiated a better pay.

“-about it, right?” Tim says, seemingly the end of a sentence, not the beginning.

Wearily, Jon looks up, groaning softly as he realizes Tim has definitely been talking this whole time. “Apologies, I was… a bit preoccupied. Would you mind repeating that?”

Tim simply shrugs, giving Jon a winning smile. “It can wait till later. What’s got you so distracted? Another case not workin’ on the laptop?”

“Quite. It’s frankly unbelievable, the state Gertrude left these archives in.” Jon starts, clenching the paper slightly in his hands. “Boxes and boxes of files and paperwork, all scattered and randomized and don’t make any sort of sense- You’d think someone with such a meticulous system of numbers would bother making it a usable one!”

There’s a slight chuckle from Tim, but Jon hardly even registers it.

“And then the fact some won’t even record- Not to mention the fact they’re mostly just rubbish fiction, it’s starting to feel like her entire existence was aimed at making my job as difficult as possible,” Jon finally trails off, slightly out of breath.

Tim chuckles at this, giving Jon a playful smirk. “Much as Gertrude may have been a bit of a waste of an archivist by the end, I don’t really think you can blame her for your laptop not recording properly.”

“I can blame her for whatever I damn well please…” Jon finds himself muttering under his breath. Tim’s raised eyebrow proves he heard it, but neither of them acknowledge this. Instead Jon simply nods, letting out a long sigh.

“Anyways,” Tim continues, gesturing to the file that- Jon didn’t even notice he was holding. “Found another one fallen behind a shelf, figured you’d want to know about it.”

Another weary sigh, followed by Jon nodding for Tim to leave it on the nearest pile of boxes. What Jon meant was for Tim to set it on top of the boxes so he could go check it out once he was finished here. What Tim did, however, was drop it on top without a care in the world.

A plume of dust rises from where the file hits the box, drifting around into the office air. Tim immediately coughs a few times, waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to clear a bit of it. Jon, on the other hand, winces visibly, fighting the urge to pull his shirt over his face. He settles for running a knuckle under his already twitching nose. The slight itch that he’d been fighting since this morning spreads into a burning tickle, and it takes everything he has not to sneeze.

“Woah,” Tim exclaims, still coughing slightly. “Bloody hell there’s a lot of dust around here.”

“Seems cleanliness was hardly one of Gertrude’s strengths either,” Jon replies, each word bringing him one step closer to the brink.

Mind over body, he does not have to sneeze. He’s not allergic to dust, and his eyes are not beginning to water. He’s a professional, damn it. And professional archivists, head archivists, are not taken down by something as simple, and common, as dust.

“I mean I knew it was bad in storage,” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to the struggle Jon finds himself fighting through. “But I figured at least in your office it would be a bit cleaner.”

“I haven’t had a chance to get a deep clean done,” Jon retorts, feeling annoyance start to creep into his tone. “I’ve been quite busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Tim holds up his hands in mock surrender, “Right, right, wasn’t making a comment on your work ethic or anything. Honestly I just figured Elias would have sent someone to do it for you or something.”

“I know,” Jon offers, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit…”

“Yeah,” Tim replies. His smile is back, but it seems a touch more genuine this time. “We’re all pretty stressed. Gertrude left us a hell of a mess to clean.”

“Quite literally,” Jon says, giving a small smile of his own. “And yes, Elias did offer, but there’s hardly been a reasonable hour that I haven’t been here cleaning up hehh– her mess.”

It’s only for a second, but Jon feels his entire body go slack as the sneeze begs to be released, teasing up the edge of his nose. He manages to turn away from Tim enough to pinch his nose for a minute. It does nothing against the deep itch that’s beginning to creep up into his ears and eyes, but at least for now it stalls the sneeze enough for him to turn back.

Tim, for his part, doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, he’s standing in the doorway, holding up one hand with the other hovering in front of his face. At first, Jon can’t for the life of him figure out what the hell Tim’s doing. Is this some form of practical joke?

It takes him right up until Tim gasps, with Jon nearly jumping to his feet at the sudden noise, before he realizes.

“hiehh– hiH’YIESHh’ooo!”

Jon finds himself damn near envious of Tim. He always seems so carefree and unashamed. Those were never qualities Jon shared, even with something as trivial as this. His own nose throbs fiercely in response.

“Wheew,” Tim sighs, lowering his hand with a dramatic sniff. “Sorry ‘bout that, not normally that affected by dust, but I guess if there’s enough it’ll get to anyone!”

There’s a beat of silence, Jon finding himself physically incapable of response. The tickle’s damn near unbearable. His entire being is aching for the release. He knows there’s no point in fighting, it’ll just make it worse when it finally breaks free, but still. A boss should be able to control themselves. The Head Archivist should be able to control their own body.

“What, no blessing?” Tim mocks playfully after a moment of silence passes. He pauses slightly when Jon still shows no sign of response. Finally, Tim seems to get bored, waving a hand in front of Jon’s face as he chuckles out, “Boss? You still in there?”

It’s barely a breeze, but the movement is enough to stir the dust in the air around Jon’s face again. Imperceptible to anyone else, but Jon sees the particles begin to swirl. It’s just enough to break his focus, and he hardly has time to pinch his nose before the sneezes begin to break free.

“hh’nGT–! ah’gNDt–!”

“B-less you boss! See, that’s how you respond when someone sneezes-” Tim begins, trailing off slightly as Jon shows no signs of stopping.

“ah’gNT–! gNNT’ch-! hh’gNDTchh-! Good lord... h-hehh– ah’dNGT–iuh!”

“Bless you some more, wow you really-”

“hH’NNGT-iuh! ah’knDGT-dhh!”

By this point Tim has the decency to look concerned, reaching across Jon’s desk and pulling the tissues closer. Jon blearily grabs a handful, pausing for a series of desperate sounding hitches before ducking into the pile for a few more tight stifles.

“Damn, boss,” Tim says, seemingly a bit lost for words. If Jon’s misery wasn’t the sole cause, he might even find that a bit entertaining. It’s hardly a common occurrence for Tim to be speechless.

“‘Scuse mbe. I’b fide-” Jon begins, noticing Tim wince at the congestion in his voice. Can’t really blame him for that.

“You certainly sound ‘fide’,” Tim mocks gently, moving the tissues closer again. Jon blushes slightly at this, taking a few and turning away politely to blow his nose. Tim, for his part, seems unfazed by this, simply waiting until Jon finishes to resume his taunting.

“That was a hell of an attack, never knew you were so allergic to dust!”

“I’m not,” Jon starts, almost by instinct. Tim’s immediate raised eyebrow confirms there’s really no way out of it this time. “Alright, maybe a little, but it’s usually not nearly this bad. I juhh… hehh– eh’GNDt–iuh! Excuse me. Just forgot to take my medication this mor- enGT-uhh! Excuse me. This morning.”

Tim looks a touch taken aback, staring at Jon with a face Jon can’t quite place. Almost… concern, but with a bit of respect?

“How do you function like this?”

“It’s not normally like this,” Jon replies, massaging the brink of his nose gently. “That’s the point of the medication. I simply was in a rush this morning, and it slipped my mind to take.. t- take… hH’ENGT-dhh! ah’kNDt-iuhh! Excuse me. To take some. Then with your little file incident-”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Tim interrupts, giving a bit of a smile. It’s equal parts sheepish and mocking. “If I’d known you were so allergic, I’d have been a lot more careful.”

Jon fights back his lecture about ‘carelessness in the archives’, and instead settles for a deep sigh. “It’s alright. No way you could have. Like I said, it’s usually quite manageable.”

“Well,” Tim continues, “It’s still quite early. You could run home and grab some medication, I’m sure the archives can survive without you for a quick hour or so-”

“I appreciate the suggestion,” Jon cuts him off, “but I’m fine. I am perfectly capable of running my archives.”

Tim simply shrugs. This is obviously a battle he doesn’t feel like fighting. Jon gives his nose another rub, shivering slightly at the lingering tickle that’s steadily only growing worse.

“Ihh.. If there’s nothing else?”

“Nope! That was all. I’ll leave you to it,” Tim replies, starting to exit the room. Just before he leaves though, he turns on his heel and gives Jon another winning smile. “Oh, and I’ll be sure to tell Martin to pick up some more tissues.”

Jon just grimaces, half certain Tim’s simply trying to get a reaction out of him. But knowing the man, he’ll do it just to get some entertainment. Still, telling him not to would just be ensuring it happens. There’s really no winning here.

Thankfully, Tim closes the door as he leaves, and Jon finally has at least enough privacy to let out another small fit without prying eyes.

“hH– enGdt-iuh! eh’gNT-uhh! ah’ngxT–! eiH’ZSHhhuh! Good lord…”

The last one breaks free, and Jon silently hopes Tim was far enough to not hear it. It’s mortifying enough that Tim’s witnessed what he has, he certainly doesn’t need to see or hear anything further.

Sheer power of will carries Jon through the next two statements relatively uneventfully. Sure, the recording has to be rapidly paused once or twice, but that’s simply a slight malfunction that he quickly corrects. On audio you should hardly be able to tell.

One such… malfunction, however, does manage to slip onto a tape. Of course it had to be one that would only record on the damn tapes. Jon internally (and perhaps externally) curses the statements for refusing the digital plane. A slight hint of editing could remove this error in mere moments, as he perhaps did with a few others. Instead, he sighs deeply, ignoring how damn itchy that sigh was, and rewinds the tape.

“Statement of Elyse Williams regarding unusual activity in her attic. Original statement given March 21st, 2011. Audio recording by Johh…”

Jon pauses for a second, collecting himself and stalling off the impending interruption.

“Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Mahh… hH- h’nDGxt–dhh! Christ.”

The tape clicks off again, and the whirring sound of it rewinding sets Jon’s teeth on edge. Head archivist of the damn Magnus Institute! What kind of archivist, head archivist, can’t even control themselves long enough to record a statement.

With the next go he manages to make it almost halfway through before another interruption.

“It was then that I saw them, crawling all… all around my… hihh– eh’knDgt! ek’nGDt–dhh! Good lord.”

This time he doesn’t even bother rewinding, settling instead for grabbing a new tape entirely. He’ll record over this tape later, but with so much to rewind… it would simply be a waste of time to do it now.

“Statement of Elyse Willaims regarding unusual actihh… activity in her attic. Original statement gi- hh’nXGt! given March 21st, 2011. Audio reco- eh’ngDT–dhh! Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head… hhh– Head Ar… Archivistofthe- hk’ZSHHieuhh! Goddamn it!”

There’s a timid knock at the door, and it takes everything Jon has not to throw something at it. Letting out a low groan, Jon clicks the tape off and calls out, “Come in, Martin.”

As expected, the door swings open to reveal Martin with a collection of boxes stacked in his arms. He seems to hesitate slightly in the doorway, futilely attempting to control the concern and worry lacing his features.

“S-sorry to bother you, I was just looking over some of these files and had a few questions about the research you asked me to do- oh, but you’re recording and I should have checked and I’m-”

Jon sighs loudly, cutting off Martin’s rambling. “It’s fine. I was… taking a break. What are the questions?”

Martin starts off on them, most of which are fairly trivial and Jon finds his headache beginning to grow. He manages to sneak a couple of silent stifles, passing them off with a light cough or simply timing them when Martin’s preoccupied.

“Martin-” Jon finally interrupts, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He can pass it off as the headache that he does have, but he can’t help but admit it might have more to do with the blooming tickle. After a pause he continues, “make a list of the questions. Tim and Sasha can handle most of them, and the ones they can’t I’ll answer or pass on for Elias to answer.”

“Oh, r-right!” Martin stutters, gathering up the boxes into his arms again and heading for the door. He pauses, once again lingering at the entrance.

“Is there somethh… something else?” Jon asks, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. The tickle is growing unmanageable, and he has mere minutes to get Martin out of his office.

Martin’s still standing, fidgeting with the boxes as he seemingly builds up the courage for something. Irritating at the best of times, of which these are decidedly not. Jon can’t help but sigh, though he does notice a slight shudder run through Martin at the sound.

He can’t linger on this however, as the sigh pushes his nose over the edge and he finds himself ducking into his wrist for a tightly contained- “hk’nGDT!”

“Oh, bless you Jon!” Martin says. Apparently able to form words now. Perfect timing.

“Thank you, do excuse me. Now, are you just planning to wait in my office for the remainder of the workday?”

The tone is harsh, and he knows it. There’s a pang in his chest as Martin’s face falls for a moment, but Jon quickly crushes it. He’s wasting time, and lord knows they don’t have enough of that to spare. They should both be working. The tone is warranted.

Despite this, Jon finds himself softening slightly when he speaks again. “Is there anything further I can help you with, Martin?”

“N-no, not really, just the questions, I’ll make the list like you said,” Martin rambles, still not moving towards the hall. Jon raises an eyebrow, not missing the way Martin blushes slightly.

“O-okay… well… yes, there is… well-”

“hk’gNDt–dhh! Excuse me.”

“Bless you, that’s actually- that’s uh, that’s actually what I wanted to…” Martin trails off, setting the boxes on the ground and rummaging through one of them. He produces a box of tissues along with a handful of travel packs, and Jon curses Tim under his breath.

“So I take it Tim told you to… t-to… hk’nGT–dh! Excuse me. Tim told you to bring those?”

Martin mumbles a blessing, but lets Jon finish his sentence otherwise uninterrupted. There’s another awkward silence as Martin stands frozen, eyes wide as he seems to be running through a million possible answers in his head.

“He- he did mention something, yeah,” The answer finally comes, Martin blushing slightly again as he places the box on Jon’s desk. “But um… well, you’ve also been- it’s uh, it’s not exactly been… subtle?”

The tone pitches up towards the end, and Jon feels the heat begin spreading over his own face in return. He wants to say something, make some form of denial, but… he’s not an idiot. And at this point, denial might be a bit out of reach.

Case in point, Jon finds his breath catching again, his mouth falling open slightly. Martin takes notice of this, and timidly holds out a travel pack, offering a warm smile that Jon merely glimpses as his eyes begin to flutter closed. He accepts them, weighing the embarrassment of accepting help with the mortification of letting this fit out into his hands.

“Thankyou-” Jon manages, breathy and high, before he ducks into his stapled hands, tissues pressed in them.

“hH’nDGt–dhh! hk’gnDXt–uhh! Excuse me. Oh god… I’m gon- gonna… hH’DZSHHhuhh! eh’zzZSHhhh’oo! hH’DZSHhhuh!”

The last of the fit breaks free, and Jon finds himself blushing behind his hands.

“Bless you a lot, Jon, Christ. Are you alright?”

“I’b fide-” Jon starts, still from behind his wall of tissues. There’s no point in attempting any discretion now, and he gives Martin an apologetic glance before swivelling in his chair and blowing his nose. It barely helps the itch, but it does help reduce some of the congestion before he speaks again.

“I’m fine. Please do excuse me, that was-”

“Quite the show!” Martin interrupts, laughter beginning to seep into his tone. It doesn’t feel cruel, nor does it even carry the tone of mocking Jon had grown so accustomed to from Tim. This laughter feels… almost light. As if he’s included in the joke, instead of being the subject of it. Despite himself, Jon feels the hint of a smile ghost his face.

No. It’s unprofessional, and… he has to be mocking him… just, he’s better at hiding it. That's worse than Tim's blatant lack of respect. At least he doesn't pretend to... to care.

“I suppose. Now, back to work,” Jon says, letting the ice dip into his voice.

Martin blushes a bit, beginning to stammer again, “R-right, of course, well I just- I mean, I didn’t mean- I’m just- I don’t want to pry but… I wasn’t- uh, are you sure you’re fit to work right now…?”

The question is almost whispered, Martin’s voice dropping off in what might be… concern? Jon finds himself biting down the urge to reply. To tell Martin that no, he’s not fit to work, he needs to go home, and that he just feels… miserable, to put it frankly. But no, it isn’t concern. It’s… pity. It has to be pity.

“I am fine,” Jon begins, standing from his chair. “I am more than fit to continue my work, and more than that I am capable of continuing to act as your boss. This is nothing I can’t hahh– hH’NdXGt–dhh! Nothing I can’t handle.”

Martin whispers a blessing, but goes a bit pale while doing so. Jon feels that familiar pang start in his chest, the one that says… maybe you went too far. Honestly, he’s not even sure why Martin brings that out of him. Tim mocks him all the time, Sasha even can cast a glance and throw a joke but… somehow when it’s Martin it just…

“S-sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry-” Martin’s rambling cuts through Jon’s thoughts just in time for him to see Martin beginning to walk into the hall.

“No, I’m sorry Marti-” Jon starts, but finds it comes out merely a whisper. The door closes, and he hears Martin’s footsteps retreating down the hall.

Well, that’s that. Jon grabs a handful of tissues, choosing the box Martin had brought for… well because it’s closer. That’s why. That’s the only reason why.

He blows his nose a few times, letting out another stray “hH–dnGt’uh!” into the soft folds. After a few rounds of this, he clears his throat, and finds the quality satisfactory. He still sounds a bit rough around the edges, but on such an old device you should hardly be able to tell.

Clicking on the tape again, Jon starts the statement over from the beginning. Again. He pointedly ignores the guilt beginning to fester in his chest, devoting himself entirely to the recording. He was merely being the boss, doing what he needed to do. Martin was speaking out of turn, and had to be reminded of such.

Still… he makes a mental note to thank Martin for the tissues next time he sees him. Suppose maybe he’s not entirely useless after all.

“Right, now then,” Jon says, grabbing his papers and placing the recorder in front of him.

“Statement of Elyse Willams regarding unusual activity in her attic. Original statement given March 21st, 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.”

#waterfallasks #waterfallwrites #thank you for the request!! i dont think this is exaaactly the same as what you asked for #but i had the ideas and wanted to write this so i hope i still managed to get enough of what you were looking for!!#dust allergy j/on is such a beloved of mine like AUGH!! he absolutely WOULD wouldnt he~ insert dreamy sigh here~#snz #snzfic #snz fic #snzkink #snzblr #the m/agnus a/rchives

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waterfallofspace · 3 months ago

Text

Actually Adorable

The one in which Jon and Martin both discover something new about each other.

feat. martin with kitten allergies, and snzs~ not actually one of my main t/ma snz bois, but he's absolutely precious to me, and i got a request, so I hope this is enjoyable!

(warning: there is talk of wheezing in this, it's pretty light and nothing super heavy, but just be aware of that incase you don't like that sort of thing)

Characters: Martin, Jon, Tim Word Count: 4k (so much for 'small drabbles')

He’d normally avoid the alley, but being as late as he is, Martin finds himself with no choice. It’s not as if it’s a particularly bad part of town. In fact, while the institute doesn’t get much respect, everything around it always seemed to be well kept. At least, everything outside of the archive, that is. Still, ducking through the alleys of London isn’t exactly Martin’s idea of a safe commute.

The city’s background ambience dulls in the quiet street, Martin finding himself humming slightly just to fill the gap. It’s a fast walk, cutting nearly ten minutes off his commute. Again, normally that wouldn’t be worth much, but being already nearly twenty minutes late, he’ll take what he can get.

“Jon’s going to kill me…” he hums to himself. It’s not as if anyone’s around to hear him singing about his death in an alley behind the institute. It’s okay to lighten the mood a bit before his imminent demise.

A sudden, yet oddly soft noise knocks him from this spiral of thought. He barely manages to catch the scream that starts, smothering it into a strangled noise of pure panic. Martin scans the alley, heart beating into his throat. It takes him a minute to locate the source of the sound, and the sight that greets him is enough to leave him speechless.

There, in the corner of the alley, crouching beside a few abandoned boxes, is Jon. As in Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the magnus institute, his boss. In an alley. Crouching.

“J- Jon..?” Martin whispers, almost hoping he isn’t heard. The wish is, albeit self-fullingly, granted. Jon doesn’t look up, still entirely focused on whatever task has brought him here. His hand is reaching out behind the boxes, and Martin can’t seem to make out what he’s doing.

Martin finds himself standing there for almost too long, debating what to do. Okay, there’s a few ways this could go. Option one; he can go back the way he came and take the extra nearly twenty minutes it’ll take to get all the way back, and just hope Jon’s too busy to notice. No, Jon will definitely be back inside by then and he’ll be screwed.

Okay so option two; shuffle past Jon as fast as humanly possible, and hope Jon doesn’t see him. Except what if he does, and Martin didn’t announce himself, and then Jon thinks he’s a creepy stalker, prowling the back alleys and looking for- no, that won’t do.

So option three it is; announce himself and make sure Jon knows he’s there, and try to explain that he was running late (and that he’s so sorry for that) and hope that whatever Jon’s doing isn’t any form of criminal activity that would lead to getting fired-

Another soft noise cuts through these thoughts, Martin realizing it’s the same one as earlier. He manages to focus his gaze on Jon, watching as Jon kneels down closer to the floor, reaching out his hand again. This time a small form crawls out from behind the box, and rubs up against the hand. Oh.

Martin finds himself nearly fainting with relief, the million ways this situation could end badly starting to fade as he watches the scene unfold. Jon has sunk fully to a sitting position by now, coaxing the kitten closer with a mixture of soft cooing and gentle tongue clicks. The kitten seems enraptured, beginning to let out a purr as it sinks into Jon’s lap.

They stay like this for a few minutes, Martin unable to draw his eyes away as Jon strokes the kitten behind the ears, continuing to speak softly to it. The kitten, for its part, purrs loudly enough that even standing a few paces away, Martin can hear it clearly. Jon has a look on his face Martin’s never seen him have. It’s mesmerizing, and Martin has to fight to keep the warmth from flooding to his cheeks. He’d never known Jon was such a cat person, but he seems a natural at it.

There’s something so… open about Jon’s posture. It’s an unfamiliar sight on the normally politely restrained boss. His voice, which would usually carry a tight air about it, is soft. Warm. He’s… almost adorable like this. It’s a tone Martin didn’t even know Jon could produce, though he feels a bit bad thinking that. Of course Jon can be soft, he’s just always at work when they see each other. Not the place for such things.

There’s a slight pang in his chest as Martin starts to drift into imagining Jon speaking to him with the same- No. Don’t be creepy, that’s a completely unreasonable train of thought. This is your boss, and you are watching him in an alley. Okay, line definitely crossed.

“Jon?” Martin speaks up, clearing his throat first, hoping that’ll be a touch less startling.

Jon nearly jumps out of his skin, eyes snapping to face Martin. The kitten, however, barely stirs. It seems far too content in Jon’s lap to worry about anything else. It purrs deeply, melting into Jon’s chest, dozing lightly.

“Martin? What the hell are you doing here?” Jon asks, all softness drained from his tone. Martin feels another pang, but pushes it down. He’s just surprised Jon in a back alley, of course his tone is tense.

“S- sorry! I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, I promise, I was just running late- which I know I should have been more prepared for, but it was that kind of morning- which isn’t an excuse! But the point is I was trying to save some time, and-” Martin feels the words start pouring out before he can really stop them. It always seems to happen when he’s nervous, and around Jon? That’s almost always.

The look on Jon’s face is hard to read, and Martin manages to cut himself off abruptly as Jon holds up a hand.

“S-sorry,” He stammers out again, meeting Jon’s eyes carefully.

“It’s of no matter,” Jon sighs, glancing down at the kitten before tracing back up to Martin.

“He’s cute!” Martin says, hoping desperately to break the tension. He reaches down and gives the kitten a light pet, smiling as it leans against his touch. “I didn’t know you were a cat person! What’s his name?”

“Doesn’t have one,” Jon replies, looking almost tenderly at the mass of fur. “Found her out here. At least I think it’s a girl. Not exactly an expert.”

“Oh, r- right! She’s cute then!”

Jon clears his throat, “Indeed.” There’s a pause, then he continues with, “I was just…”

Martin waits for the end, but it doesn’t come. Jon’s mouth sort of just… closes. He won’t meet Martin’s eye, and for a second it seems like… embarrassment? But for what? Finding a kitten? Petting it?

Martin doesn’t have the time to linger on these thoughts, however, as a new one presents itself with urgency. He has to sneeze. And badly.

He pulls away from Jon, taking a few steps back and managing to get an arm over his face before the first breaks through; a tiny stifle that’s barely audible over the kitten’s still pronounced purring. “hh’nxt!”

Jon doesn’t reply, simply watching Martin with… another unreadable expression. Martin stutters out a few apologies, before turning on his heel and ducking back into his arm for another tight, “ih’nxt! hh’ngt!”

This time Jon does reply, or at least… Martin thinks he does? Whatever it is comes out hushed, barely a whisper, the only trace it was even there is Jon’s lips seeming to form some sort of words. He does, however, stand up. The kitten gives a disgruntled mew as it’s jostled from its position, sluggishly crawling back onto the ground.

“Well,” Jon says, lightly brushing off his legs. “Shall we go inside then?”

Martin blinks a few times from behind his arm. He was expecting some form of lecture about being late, but… gift horses and all. He decides to just take this mercy. He drops his arm and nods silently, falling into step behind Jon as they walk, not quite together, but both in the same direction.

“What about the kitten?” Martin finds himself asking, regretting it instantly as Jon’s entire back goes tense. “Or, I- well, I was just… I don’t want to leave it to die out there… N- not that I’m saying you’d- I didn’t mean you-”

“I’m sure that Sasha or Tim can find it a nice place to stay,” Jon replies, voice tight and contained. “Tim’s always looking for an excuse to dip out of work. As for right now, we are late, and I know I have a lot of work to be doing. I’m sure you do too.”

Martin curses himself internally, that was of course a stupid thing to ask. Jon’s obviously a bit on edge about being seen like that, and it’s not really like he can blame him! He’d certainly not want anyone at the archives to catch him unawares. If someone walked in on him recording his poetry… Martin feels a shudder at the thought. And then another one, as his nose begins to burn again.

He manages to stifle these too, a quick triple that he’s almost certain Jon doesn’t hear. It’s a short walk to the institute, of which Martin is deeply grateful. The itch in his nose is rapidly growing, and it’s beginning to spread to his eyes. He’d really thought just a single small pet would be alright. They were outside, it wasn’t like he was holding the kitten to his face or anything like that.

Yet it was becoming rapidly apparent that it was not alright. Thankfully, Jon still seemed oblivious. Or perhaps was just giving him the courtesy of pretending he didn’t notice the increasing amount of sniffling.

“hk’gt! eh’nxt! nxgt!”

Or the small bouts of sneezing that kept breaking free. Martin had always been quite allergic to cats, but could never quite find it in himself to dislike them. They’re such intelligent animals, and so cute, and fluffy, and… well, they always seemed to like him back. He’d been told more than once by their owners that cats can always spot the allergic one, and seem to gravitate towards them. In his experience at least, this had been true.

“Martin!” Jon called, snapping him back into focus. Turns out he was so focused on his own thoughts he’d nearly walked right past the institute entirely. “Planning on coming into work?”

It was heavily sarcastic, and Martin felt the blush sink deeper into his ears as he gave a light nod and muttered apology. He hurried through the door Jon was holding open, ducking his head a bit to avoid Jon’s glare.

Just walking past him, Martin could see the fur coating Jon’s entire lap, and spreading up over his vest. The sight of it reflexively brought his hand to his nose, pinching it shut as his eyes crashed close against another round of- “h’kngt! nngt! hk’ngxt!”

This time Jon did offer a blessing, to which Martin replied with thanks, apologizing again. Jon’s face is unreadable, and Martin chokes back the urge to apologize. Again. It seems it’s the only thing he’s capable of doing anymore. Though, with Jon… that was starting to feel like the norm. With him, it always felt like no matter what Martin did, it was always wrong.

Before he can get too lost in that trainwreck of thoughts, Martin pulls himself together, and gives Jon a polite excuse, attempting to move to the kitchen.

“Martin, wait-” Jon starts, before awkwardly pausing. There’s a beat of silence, both of them staring at each other. Martin blinks slowly, feeling a bit worried as the seconds seem to tick on forever. The more time passes, the harder Martin finds it to ignore the tingling spreading throughout his sinuses. Finally, Jon manages to offer a weak, “I’ll forgive the lateness this once, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Th- thank you…” Martin stutters out in reply. They drift into another awkward pause, before Martin ends it with a rapid “hh’ngxt–nngt–k’nngdt! ngt’shiiew!”

The last one breaks free, and Martin blushes hard, more apologies tumbling out over each other. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I was trying to catch it but they were a bit fast and it just slipped out-”

Jon interrupts by clearing his throat again, and looking distinctly not at Martin as he offers, “Nothing to apologize for.”

Tense silence settles over them again, and Martin’s starting to think maybe being berated isn’t actually all that bad. It certainly beats the hell out of whatever this new dynamic is.

“So,” Jon starts, Martin nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden noise. “Back to work then.”

“Yes, of course,” Martin begins to turn around, before pausing as Jon speaks up again.

“Unless you… need anything?”

It sounds oddly sincere, and Martin feels confusion spreading across his face. “S- sorry? I don’t… I don’t think so, I’ve got a fair number of cases already to investigate, and I’m sure Tim and Sasha will have some things for me to do too.”

Jon looks a bit taken aback at this, and Martin feels the panic swell again. Was that the wrong answer? What else could he possibly have meant-

Before he can spiral too far, Jon seems to collect himself, that unreadable expression settling back over his features. “Indeed, yes. Back to work then, lot to get done, and we’re already behind. Lord knows everyone’s overworked as it is, and Tim will surely complain about our absence.”

Martin nods cautiously, biting back the urge to apologize again. He’s not even sure what for, there’s just… that sinking feeling that he’s said something wrong. He absentmindedly rubs at his eye, but nearly lets out a groan at the sensation. It’s equal parts relieving and unsatisfying, the itch far too deep to actually scratch. What it does do is spread the tickle back through his nose.

“Oh-” Martin lets out involuntarily. He barely catches a glimpse of Jon turning back from where he’d begun to walk away through his rapidly watering eyes. Seems they both keep getting pulled back into this interaction, and Martin curses internally. If he’d just kept quiet and rushed away before the fit broke loose- Well, too late now, and he attempts to stutter out, “Sorry I think… thinkI’mgonna– hh’nxt! eh’gnxt! nngt–ed’gnxt–ngt’iew! hihhiieshh’iew!”

“Good lord, Martin,” Jon says, and Martin suddenly wishes he could sink through the floor.

He tries to stutter out more apologies, but his breath is stolen by the ever-increasing fit. Rapid, yet tiny, sneezes continue to pile over each other, though the stifling is long forgotten for lieu of being able to get a breath.

“hh’ieshhiew! ishhhiew! ishhiew! tshhh’iew! ishhh–eshhh–eshhh–eshh’iiew!”

Jon’s standing in stunned silence, seeming unable to pull his eyes away. Martin can only stand, arm against his face, gasping into his sleeve, waiting for the end of this humiliating display. It, mercifully, comes fairly quickly, a final “heh’iSHHHiew!” seeming to clear out the remainder of the burn.

The absent tickle still lingers, his eyes watering as the itch still buzzes through them too. At least the fit seems to be over. Jon’s still staring, mouth pulled tight as he surveys the scene. Martin wishes, again, that he could sink through the floor. There’s another silence, Jon seeming to just… watch.

“I’b so-” Martin starts, before hearing his own congested voice and blushing deeper. Jon seems to notice it too, wincing slightly as Martin attempts to sniff, the noise coming out strained and heavy. There’s another pause before Jon suddenly turns on his heel and hurries away.

Martin feels the shame begin to sink into him, and he curses again, this time a little more externally. Of course Jon would leave, that was a humiliating display, he can only imagine how disgusted Jon must be with him. It’s so unprofessional, to have a fit like that in front of your boss, Jon would never succumb like that in front of Elias.

His self loathing is interrupted by a clearing of the throat, Jon standing in front of him almost- nervously? But that doesn’t make any sense, why would he be nervous? Surely it’s gotta be something else, maybe it’s-

“Here,” Jon says, cutting through the silence. As Martin glances down, he realizes Jon is holding out a box of tissues. He accepts them, a bit hesitantly, utterly speechless.

Jon seems to notice this, and gives him a slight nod, an attempt at being reassuring. “You seemed to need them. Bless you, by the way.”

The words seem to be a bit foreign to him, he doesn’t stutter over them or anything of the sort, but they seem to be a conscious effort. Come to think of it, Martin can’t recall ever hearing Jon bless someone. Unlike himself, where it’s a habit so deeply engrained it’s more of a reflex than anything else.

It does make sense, Jon’s always seemed more the polite yet tightly wound sort. Whenever Martin’s heard him sneeze, which has been quite rare, it’s been obvious he wants no attention drawn to it. Perhaps he assumes others feel the same..?

Either way it hardly seems to matter, and with a start, Martin realizes he’s been standing here silently for almost a full minute. He gives Jon an appreciative look, pulling out a tissue, folding it, and turning around to lightly blow his nose. For his part, Jon turns away, most likely to give him a bit of privacy.

After cleaning himself up, Martin throws the tissues in the wastebasket nearby before turning back to Jon. “Thank you, for the uh- tissues and all.”

Jon stares a bit, before clearing his throat. “Right. Well, again you, uh, seemed to need them.”

“Yeah,” Martin gives a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that. Just a bit of allergies.”

“Seems an understatement,” Jon replies, seemingly without thinking. Martin chuckles a bit at the candor.

“I suppose you’re right,” he says with a laugh. That was apparently a bad idea, the vibrations from the laughter leaving him gasping. Jon looks on in what appears to be sympathy as Martin grabs a few more tissues. He just manages to bring them up in time.

“hh’ishhh! ishhhiew! t’shhhew! tshhh–tshhh–tshhh’ieeww!”

“Bless you,” Jon says, this time without much hesitation. Martin nods his thanks, grabbing another tissue, and folding it nicely before attending to his nose with it. These he also deposits in the wastebin.

“Thank you, sorry again,” Martin starts, breaking off with a light cough. It’s not chesty, but it does come with a slight wheeze to his breath. Jon definitely takes notice of this, his face going a bit pale.

“Are you- are you wheezing?” Jon asks, almost a touch accusatory in his tone.

Martin blushes slightly, but draws in a deep breath to test it. There’s an audible wheeze, and he finds himself getting caught in another cough.

“S- sorry,” He sputters out between light coughs, glancing down at the cat hair covering Jon. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry, it happens quite often, I’m just uh… a bit allergic to…”

Jon follows his gaze, looking over his clothes. A moment passes, then realization dawns across his face and Jon pales a bit further. He gives Martin a look that’s quite clearly concern, before it’s quickly replaced by a glare.

“Good lord Martin, why didn’t you say something?!” Jon snaps, taking several steps back.

Martin feels a shiver run through him at the harsh tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, you didn’t,” Jon interrupts, his tone still firm, but with something that still sounds a lot like concern flowing through it. And maybe… guilt? “If I’d known, I’d not have made you stand here, suffocating yourself with an allergen.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Martin tries, his body betraying him with another “ishhh’iew! ishhh–ishhh–t’shhheeww!”

Jon gives another blessing, his displeasure palpable. Feeling another twinge of guilt, Martin attempts to apologize again, but finds his words stolen by another set of sneezes. “ieshew! tshhiew! hihheshhiew!”

“Bless you,” Jon says yet again, taking a few more steps back. Even through his slight wheeze, Martin thinks he hears Jon mutter something. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was something about ‘actually being quite adorable’. A smile begins to slip over Martin’s face before he even has time to process the words.

It’s quickly countered by Jon calling out for Tim. Martin nearly jumps at the volume, coughing again as the jostle brings another light wheeze.

Turning back to Martin, Jon begins to give instructions. “I’m going to go to my office, I have a change of clothes in there, I’ll switch over to them. Tim will help you, he always has some meds around for his own struggles, I’m sure he can lend you some. You are to sit down, and under no circumstances are you to go back near the kitten. Sasha can find it somewhere nice to stay.”

Before Martin has a chance to respond, Jon’s rushing down the hall, taking a turn towards Sasha’s desk. Tim comes around the corner at the same time, just barely managing to avoid crashing into Jon. He utters an expletive, but Jon pays it no mind whatsoever, just pointing towards Martin, and saying something Martin can’t make out.

“Jeez,” Tim calls out as he gets closer. “What’s his deal?”

“There was a ki-” Martin starts, before stopping himself. Jon hadn’t exactly been advertising that he was in the alley with the kitten, and… much as Tim was a nice guy, he’s not entirely above taunting. Especially if he knows this isn’t something Jon wants people to know about.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to come up with a new excuse, as the tickle returns with a passion. He simply ducks into another handful of tissues for another set of “hhshhhiew! ishhhieww! t’shhh! kshhhiew!”

“Woah, bless you,” Tim says, giving Martin a quick once over. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Martin sighs, with a bit of a wheeze. He attempts to give Tim a reassuring smile. “I’m alright.”

“Clearly not,” Tim replies. “You’re wheezing and sneezing all over the place. Plus the boss sent me to help, figure that’s not for nothin’.”

“Just… a bit of a run in with an allergen,” Martin says, coughing against his sleeve. Tim looks sympathetic, they both know he’s had a few of those himself. Even in the time he’d been here, Martin had witnessed a couple of situations when someone brought a bouquet into the archives.

“Sounds bad,” Tim says, a bit more gently.

Martin nods, bringing another group of tissues up to his nose. “ishhh! eshhh! kshhh! hhieESHhiew!”

“Bless you!”

“Thagk you,” Martin replies, giving Tim a soft smile. He’s interrupted by another fit, this one breaking out rapidly, piling over each other until he feels Tim’s hand on his arm steadying him.

Tim lets out a low whistle as Martin blows his nose again. “That’s quite the attack. You’re nearly on my level! Right-o, let’s get you medicated, shall we?”

Martin nods, putting up no resistance as Tim begins to guide (drag) him back to his desk.

“You know, you have quite the kitten sneeze going on there,” Tim says, looking a bit confused as Martin begins to laugh. “Something funny?”

“No, no,” Martin replies. “It’s nothing. Thank you for the help.”

Tim nods at this, giving a wide grin, and going on some tangent about his own allergies, and the last time he had an attack like this. Martin nods along, but finds his thoughts drifting back to Jon, and the words he could almost swear he heard. ‘That was actually adorable’.

Sasha will surely be told about the kitten by now, but… the details of how Jon found it… well, Martin has a good feeling that’s something only he gets to know. He feels oddly warm at this thought. Even if it wasn’t exactly Jon’s choice to tell him, it’s something they get to share.

A memory just for them.

#waterfallwrites #the m/agnus a/rchives #wrote this pretty much stream of consciousness style so! i hope it's enjoyable~ didn't spend a lot of time editing this time~#like i said in the intro too- hes not reallllyyy one of my snz bois #but he IS so precious to me and one of my t/ma beloveds so <3 #happy to write him getting a lil wrecked for content <3 #i also cannot apparently write something short so i hope thats alright!~ <3 #thank you to anyone who reads this and comments/likes/reblogs or anything <3 #you're appreciated a lot~ and if no one else likes this that's alright!~ i'm actually having #a really good time lately writing t/ma <3 easy to write when you're just SO obsessed with something i guess~#snz #snzkink #snzfic #snz fic #snzblr

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