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Listen. Listen. Before s1, before Jon was ever appointed archivist, before he asked to have Tim transferred with him, before worms and paranoia. I think that Jon was painfully, unsurprisingly antisocial and awkward in the office. He didn& #39;t really make any friends, he never
went to happy hours with coworkers, he didn& #39;t know how to make small talk. Which was fine with him? Jon had always been ambitious and always been awkward, had mostly been disregarded as a kid too and any (sisyphean) attempt at real emotional intimacy had sputtered out so. He
was fine with it. He was comfortable being vaguely disliked but largely ignored, with being very good at his job and nothing else. But then Tim starts in research as well, is a presence more loud and alive than Jon is used to, and makes friends almost instantly. The research
floor thaws suddenly, more than it ever has, and people chat and laugh and there& #39;s a good-natured camaraderie that bubbles up. And almost as quickly as the mood changes does Tim zero in on Jon as a project, as someone who never laughs over the cubicles at his jokes, who never
joins in on office happy hour. Jon is incredibly exasperated at the fact that the new guy keeps coming over and leaning on his desk, laughing when he accidentally knocks something over or when Jon sputters in indignation at mild, joking insults. Jon is downright dour to the man,
more curt than usual, even, but somehow that just seems to make Tim grin wider and Jon can& #39;t help the feeling that he& #39;s being mocked. Every day Tim comes back, asking Jon if he& #39;ll come to this week& #39;s happy hour (no), if he watched last night& #39;s football game (no), if he& #39;s ever
been kayaking (no), if he would like to try it? (no), offering Jon an orange slice (no), the rind he rudely peeled off laying on Jon& #39;s desk next to where Tim leans during lunch. For Tim& #39;s part, he& #39;s charmed by this bitchy, fussy man who tsks over orange rinds like he cares about
cleanliness but still has yesterday& #39;s tea under a stack of files on his desk. Jon is quiet, Jon is brusque, Jon is fun to get a rise out of and even more fun to study- he honestly didn& #39;t think it& #39;d take this long to get the guy to loosen up a little, to go to just one happy
hour. Tim knows he& #39;s charming- usually it doesn& #39;t take much, but he& #39;s always appreciated a bit of a challenge, and it& #39;d be nice to get the guy out of the office anyways- Tim has seen how he glances at the door when he thinks the last person has left for the evening when
everyone& #39;s going out together- lonely, a little bit. Has seen how he is the first one to snatch Leitner related projects off the pile with a specific possessiveness, how he runs his fingers back and forth through the slightly greying hair on his temples, mussing it, not even
stopping to eat when he has a Leitner case. Not that it& #39;s any of Tim& #39;s business. But maybe he was touched by something, too. That can be isolating. Not that it& #39;s any of his business.
So Tim smiles every day at Jon, his office project, and offers him orange slices and invites him
So Tim smiles every day at Jon, his office project, and offers him orange slices and invites him
to happy hours and to watch football games and to go kayaking, knowing that every answer will be a "go away, Tim" until one day it& #39;s just a clipped "no", and then a "no, thank you, Tim", and then a "no, I haven& #39;t been feeling well, thank you Tim", and then a "I& #39;ve never really
been into football, Tim", and a "I don& #39;t really know anything about the sport, Tim, do you have a favorite team?" Over the course of many months, and Tim finds himself increasingly pleased whenever he beams what he knows is a winning smile at Jon and gets a very mild, uncertain
one back, until he realizes that he might be getting a little invested in this. One day, maybe a full year later, Tim asks Jon if he& #39;ll come to happy hour this week, and instead of getting waved off Jon& #39;s desk and back to work, Tim gets a long, exasperated sigh that draws his
attention away from the orange he& #39;s been attempting to peel in one loop and down to Jon, who is leaning back in his chair and looking at Tim like Tim& #39;s just told him that he& #39;s made completely out of cheese- disbelieving, a little disgusted? Tim& #39;s mouth quirks, but he forces
himself to stop smiling. "Fine, Tim, if that would make you stop asking." And then the smile breaks out anyways, and Jon does shoo him away hastily as he laughs.
So Jon starts coming to events. He is sullen, and a little rude- but Tim can see that it& #39;s more inexperience and discomfort and awkwardness than anything, and covers for him by filling in the gaps in conversation so Jon doesn& #39;t have chance to run for the door until Jon eventually
gets to know others well enough that he doesn& #39;t seem an flight risk under the guise of arrogant indignation any longer. Tim is thrilled to watch it happen- excited that his friend- friend? Are they friends? - is finally being brought into the fold despite being in research
longer than half of them. Tim is the only one to ever ask him to things-Jon says no to everyone else, and even to Tim half the time. But they& #39;re friends (friends?) now, and Tim is vaguely aware again that he& #39;s more invested in this than he should be, but he& #39;s excited nonetheless.
Jon, for his part, is baffled and disgruntled by Tim& #39;s continuous badgering, by the orange peels left on his desk almost daily, by the fact that someone could keep coming back with as easy an offer of company after all the uncountable times Jon has said "no". It& #39;s almost
suspicious- what does Tim want from him? Is he just trying to win a bet with someone? But over time he starts to almost - almost - look forward to the daily intrusions into his space, and how his office always smells like oranges after lunch. Tim talks entirely too much, and
laughs too loud, and jokes at a rate that Jon can& #39;t keep up with, that throws him off balance, but he seems earnest whenever he asks about how Jon& #39;s research is going, or how he& #39;s holding up, or whether he& #39;ll come kayaking this weekend (no). So Jon lets him in, just a little.
Not like it was with Georgie- not on multiple levels. Not even like it was with the friends he lived with during graduate school. But it& #39;s the most he& #39;s opened the door for years. The first friend (friend? does Tim consider him a friend?) He& #39;s made in years.
And Tim doesn& #39;t pull away, though he does seem to act slightly more careful with Jon, just keeps cheerfully inviting him to things.
When Jon gets promoted to Head Archivist, the first thing he does is ask Tim if he& #39;d like to work with him- which takes Tim aback (ARE they friends?) But of course he agrees, is flattered (maybe something a little more?) That Jon would ask him. He doesn& #39;t seem to hold up well
under the stress of the new job, and Tim tries his best to joke with him still, but he almost always says no to going out for drinks, now.
When Prentiss happens, Tim is first worries about Jon, his head swimming with carbon monoxide. In the aftermath, he expects Jon to be empathetic to what he went through, maybe to even find a confidant in him- he doesn& #39;t.
Jon is beyond Tim& #39;s reach, doesn& #39;t care about Tim, has never cared about Tim. He got so caught up in playing office that he forgot why he was here in this wretched place.
Jon comes back with apologies that Tim doesn& #39;t want, that clarity that Tim still doesn& #39;t have, with closure that Tim had been chasing for years. He resents him for it.
They never do go kayaking together. When Jon wakes up, six months later, he asks Basira for an orange.
