heard there’s a magnus drawtober and am contributing with WORDS because i am a FOOL.
day 7: not!them
recommended listening: stalker’s tango - autoheart–
the thing about martin blackwood is that jon can’t come up with a reason to fire him.
it’s not his work that’s the problem; if anything, martin is one of the best researchers he’s ever worked with– technically. his backgrounds are thoroughly delved into, his writing has such precision that jon is even a little jealous himself, and he has numerous documented awards and accolades from various universities worldwide, all showcasing the range of his expertise.
his personal style is so subtle as to barely present itself in his writings while continuing to add a healthy amount of flavor to the text; he doesn’t overuse jargon or otherwise make his arguments inaccessible, and he makes liberal use of the drafting process.
his latin is flawless. he’s never missed a deadline. jon hates him with a burning passion.
it’s not all jealousy, though jon will admit that he’s not immune. no, it is the plain fact that martin k blackwood is intrinsically, explicitly the most ridiculously unfriendly man he’s ever met (and that’s saying a lot, coming from him.)
it’s torture, really, that he be forced to work with someone as– as martin as him; he doesn’t know how tim and sasha put up with it. he’s tried to look back on his thought process for when he hired him; according to elias he was very insistent as to his three choices– but to no avail. he tried bringing up the possibility of letting him go, once, but something stuck in his throat, and he pictured martin’s face, the undoubtedly sullen fury that would smolder in his gaze as jon broke the news, and somewhere in the middle of it all the twisting feeling in his stomach convinced him that it might be better if martin stayed.
he’s looked over his file multiple times since, tried his absolute best to convince himself that his Archives would be better without him in it– and each time he’s put the thing away, sighed, and reached for the next statement he had to record.
he sighs now as he reaches out, idly, arm groping for something that surely is there as his left pauses the tape recorder that had been running.
his fingers grasp at– nothing. air.
what?
he could have sworn…
he curls his fingers, tests the air to make sure one last time that there’s nothing there, then draws them into himself, half hurt by his own.. expectations?
it’s strange. the movement had felt similar, as if he’d been expecting a pen, or a phone, or the handle of a mug to have been there.
he reaches out again, remembers what the pang as his hand slips through the air feels like. for a second, he has a flash of something warm, lightly steaming against his skin. he closes his eyes, breathes in, and if he concentrates hard enough, he thinks he can catch the slightest whiff of– is that bergamot?
there is something missing, he thinks, for the briefest of seconds. something he ought to remember.
it itches after that, nags constantly at the base of his skull. he does his best to ignore it and turn back to his work.
maybe he’ll go buy himself a coffee later.
I LOVE this! But why would you hurt my jon Martin feelings this way?! 😭😭😭 this was fanatastically written and I’m so so happy someone did some writing for a prompt I love all the great writing on ao3 for this fandom it keeps me alive