Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh, gosh, I -- I’m so sorry, here let me -- sorry, let me help you with that,” Martin stammers, bending down to help the stranger he’d just plowed into pick up his large stack of books. He can’t believe it, was he really so lost in thought about how pretty the cover of this copy of Pride and Prejudice was that he’d rounded the corner and smashed into a random guy?

“Oh, it’s quite alright. Thank you,” the random guy responds, straightening up and shifting the stack of books in his arms. He’s got a sort of “tired, grubby professor look,” that Martin secretly thinks is kind of hot. At least, he does until Mr. Professor glances at the book in Martin’s hands and sneers. “Pride and Prejudice? Really?”

“Excuse me?” Martin says, affronted. “What’s wrong with Pride and Prejudice? It’s a classic, it never gets old. Jane Austen was a marvelous author!” The man rolls his eyes.

“They’re all the same! You read one and you’ve read them all! It’s like, the exact same plot in a different format, how is that interesting? The only Jane Austen novel I’ve read that doesn’t feel like copy-and-paste is Sense and Sensibility, and even then, it’s just plain boring!” What is this man on about? Is this random guy with -- is that really Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in his hands? -- seriously bashing Jane Austen to Martin’s face? Jane Austen, one of the most classic writers of the 19th century, one of Martin’s all time favorite authors?

“You’re one to talk! No shade on children’s literature, but what are you? Thirty-five? Reading Harry Potter and Scythe -- oh, actually, that is a good one, ok, not passing judgement on that -- but seriously. You’re berating me for Jane Austen, a classic author, when you’re reading Rick Riordan?” Martin snaps back, feeling greatly irritated. Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“Ok, a) how dare you? Rick Riordan is one of the only middle-grade authors who actually includes representation and manages to have a cohesive, interesting plot and b) I work here, so I’m just stocking the shelves! The only book in here that I’m planning on reading is this new one we got called Goldenrod Soldier and I’m just reading it to see if -- you know what, never mind. I’ve got work to do,” Random Guy huffs, pushing past Martin to shove a book aggressively onto the shelf. Martin rolls his eyes, rather offended by the whole experience, and sets Pride and Prejudice down. Though this copy is gorgeous, he already has one at home and besides, it's a library and he only came here for -- wait a minute, did Random Guy say he’s reading Goldenrod Soldier? He did, didn’t he?

“Well, wait. If you work here, can you tell me where you shelved Goldenrod Soldier? I’ve been looking for it, actually. Elodie Paloma is one of my favorite authors, or do you have a problem with her too?” Martin asked reluctantly. He didn’t want to interact with this very rude man any longer than he had to, but the library was small and he seemed to be the only person working there other than Sasha at the front desk. Martin wishes Tim was working the shelves instead, but he’d popped into the cafe Martin works at last week and told him all about the kayaking trip he was going on, so sadly, Tim was unavailable.

“At least you have some taste,” Random Guy mutters. “C’mon, it’s over here.” He leads Martin to the shelf with the desired book, then walks off without a word. Good riddance, honestly. Martin plucks the book off the shelf and makes his way to the front desk.

“Hey Martin!” Sasha says cheerfully, taking Martin’s library card and scanning it, along with the book. “How are you?”

“Well, I was doing lovely until a rather grumpy employee here told me Jane Austen was boring. Now I’m rather annoyed,” he responds. Sasha nods knowingly.

“Gangly, tall, longish salt-and-pepper hair, got a very ‘permanently annoyed Remus Lupin’ vibe going on?” she asks, describing Random Guy perfectly. Martin hums an affirmative. “Yeah, so that’s Jon. He normally manages the records for Elias, the owner, but every so often he comes out and gets a lot of children’s books. He’s got a day that he does it, the 15th of every month. It’s rather strange. Normally he sits in the back and does manage-y things that Tim and I don’t pretend to understand. He’s kind of an asshole most times, but there are occasions when he’s polite. Tim and I managed to get him out for drinks once; man, oh man, he was hilarious. Oh!” Sasha exclaims, noticing the book Martin’s borrowing. “Oh my gosh, that book was so good. I cried at part of it, god, it was gut-wrenching. Wait, that’s the new Paloma one, about the Revolutionary War and the girl who goes to fight and has to pretend to be a man?”

“Yeah! Don’t spoil it though!” Martin laughs. Sasha catches sight of something over Martin’s shoulder and scowls.

“Jon, I don’t know if you know this, but Martin is one of our very regular patrons. He tells me you said Jane Austen was boring. A) no the hell she is not, Emma is a work of art, and b) you come out of the back office like, once a month to get all those kid’s books, why are you starting fights in your rare amount of time spent in civilization?” Sasha teased. Martin looked behind him and saw Random Guy, who he now knew to be Jon.

“Sasha, as I told Martin here, Sense and Sensibility is the only remotely acceptable Jane Austen novel. Emma is just plain irritating to read. And I only came out here to get these!” Jon walks behind the counter, hefting the stack of juvenile fiction in his arms, skinny beneath an olive green cardigan, before setting them on the counter and beginning to scan them. The color of the sweater looks nice on him. Wait, what? No, Martin is mad at Jon for being a prick about Jane Austen. Jon is kind of cute though … no he isn’t! No, no, no! Martin is not going to develop a crush on an asshole at the library! What is he on about?

“Yes, and what are you doing with all of those children’s books, Jon?” Sasha asks, raising an eyebrow as Jon dumps the books unceremoniously into a black tote bag and slings it over his shoulder.

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Jon is sick and tired of his employees asking him what he’s doing with the children’s books. Every month, like clockwork, they both try and guess. He’s lucky Tim’s down in Spain. Why do they care? He’s not about to tell them all about his personal life. They don’t need to know about the Library of Jurgen Leitner, or the kids, or any of it, because Jon is a very different person at home with his best friend Georgie and his cat, The Admiral, than he is when he’s working at the Magnus Library.

“It’s none of your damn business, Sasha,” Jon grumbles as he shoves the door open with his bag full of books over his shoulder, stepping out into the cold January evening. He makes his way to the tube, trying to avoid bumping into anyone as he stands in the crowded compartment. Taking the tube is his least favorite part of the day, but there’s no point owning a car and he’s definitely not taking a cab. Those things are more expensive than a diamond, honestly. After the tube, Jon makes his way to his apartment building, climbing four flights of stairs to get to the flat he shares with his best friend.

“Georgie, I’m home,” he calls as he walks in the front door, taking off his coat and hanging it in the hall.

“Mr. Jon!” a high voice cries happily. Ah, so some of the kids are already here. “Did you get James and the Giant Peach?” Florence asks, eyes wide with excitement. Jon laughs and reaches into his bag, rummaging around for a moment before handing the little girl her book.

“Here you go, Miss Florence,” he says, his heart warming as she squeals and leaps into his arms. “Oof,” Jon groans as he catches her, shifting Florence to his hip and walking down the hall into the living room. Florence’s sisters, Adelaide and Eloise, are sitting on the couch chatting with Georgie. The Admiral is curled up on Adelaide’s lap, the girl absentmindedly stroking his fluffy back as she speaks. As Jon enters the room, Eloise springs up, rushing over and wringing her hands.

“Oh, Mr. Jon, tell me you brought it, please tell me you brought it, I’ve been so excited!” she cries. Adelaide laughs at her older sister, but Jon knows she’s just as anticipatory.

“Brought what?” Jon teases, setting Florence down, who goes to sit on the couch with her new book. Jon holds the bag away from Eloise’s fidgeting hands. She groans in frustration, and Georgie scowls.

“Jonathan Sims, this poor girl has been waiting for her sequel for two weeks. Give it to her,” she says sternly, raising an eyebrow in accusation.

“Wow, fine,” he says, drawing Iron Flame from his bag. Eloise snatches it from his hand the moment she sees the cover, flopping down on the couch and immediately flipping to the first page. Jon chuckles at the sight. “You know the third doesn’t come out for quite a while, right?”

“I don’t care, I’ll agonize over that later. Now shush, I’m busy,” Eloise hisses. Adelaide sits up straighter, trying to hide her eagerness.

“Yes, Adelaide. I’ve got something for you too. I know you’ve read most of the Kate Milford stuff, so I didn’t get any of that. Besides, isn’t a good deal of it on the Leitner shelf?” Jon says, referring to the specific shelf on the bookcase where they keep the books that are the most loved. If it’s clear a book is going to be read over and over, Jon caves and buys it, and they keep it on the Leitner shelf for anyone to take.

“We’ve got both Greenglasses and Thief Knot on there, and I’ve been meaning to ask you, but what do you think about maybe getting The Broken Lands? It’s so good, you’d probably love it, Mr. Jon,” Adelaide entreats. Jon’s ordered it already, because two months ago Adelaide read it and lent it to Oliver and the two had been raving about it ever since, then Megan and Jane read it the next month, and they all loved it. So, onto the Leitner shelf it would go.

“It’s coming on the twenty-second.” Adelaide squeals, wrapping Jon in a hug. She’s getting tall, nearly as tall as he is. He hugs her back, then pulls away. “Now, here is yours, Miss Annabelle.” Jon hands her a book he found on the fantasy shelf, inspired by Scottish folklore.

“Our Divine Mischief,” Adelaide reads, turning to the back cover and skimming the blurb. “Cool!” She joins her sisters on the couch.

“James texted and said he and Nadia are finishing up dinner, so they’ll be up in about ten minutes and Mrs. Cadence said the twins are coming down right now,” Georgie tells Jon as they make their way to the kitchen. “You girls want tea?” she calls back into the living room.

“Yes, please!” comes the reply.

“What about Jane and Megan?” Jon asks. Georgie checks her phone.

“Ok, Megan just said she’s getting off the tube, so she’ll be a minute, and then, I’m not sure about Jane, Mr. Matthews hasn’t said anything.” The doorbell rings, startling them both.

“It’s the boys, I’ll get it. You get the mugs ready, I’m sure they’re all going to want tea,” Jon says, making his way to the door and opening it to reveal not just Laurie and Oliver, but Jane as well. “Oh, Jane! We weren’t sure if you were coming. Glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, I just got a text from Mr. Matthews,” Georgie shouts from the other room.

“Sorry, Dad and I were really busy today and we both forgot it was library day,” Jane explains, walking in with the boys. The three of them sit down on the rug, Jane with her back against Georgie’s empty chair. “Hey guys,” she says to the Roth sisters. “Where’s Nadia?”

“Nadia and James will be up in a few minutes, and Megan’s coming back to the building so she’s going to be a bit,” Georgie tells her as she reenters the room. “Tea should be ready in three.”

“Right,” Jon says. “Now, you three need books, don’t you? Oh, and thank you all for having your books turned in, it makes my life a lot easier. So, Oliver first.” The boy leaps up.

“Did you get the one I wanted, Mr. Jon?” he asks eagerly.

“Well, of course, Mr. Cadence,” Jon says, taking the first Magnus Chase from his bag. “And for you, Mr. Cadence,” he continues, handing Laurie Scythe. Jon isn’t sure it’s the best choice for an eleven year-old, as he had read the book before and found it rather dark, but he’s spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Cadence and they’ve allowed it. Jane gets Cinderella’s Dead, which Georgie had read before and gushed over.

Soon enough, Nadia, James, and Megan join them, getting the seventh Harry Potter, Carrie, and Sense and Sensibility, respectively. Megan loves Sense and Sensibility, and Jon is always offering to just buy it already and put it on the Leitner shelf, but she refuses every time, saying she doesn’t want to be a bother. Her birthday is coming up soon, though, and Jon’s already got a very pretty copy hidden in his bedroom for the occasion.

The children curl up on the rug and couch with their books and the tea Georgie’s made them. She’s reading My Antonia for the hundredth time in her chair, Jon’s reading Goldenrod Soldier (which is shaping up to be very good) in his, and as snow starts to fall outside the window, all is calm and quiet and cozy in the flat.

Chapter Text

7:53 am. Text Thread: Magnus Librarians (+ 1 grumpy Archivist)

[from: Tim Stoker] what did i miss up there? Amyrthnh important?

[from: Tim Stoker] wow, that was a phenomenal typo

[from: Sasha James] yes, indeed. It’s been fine up here, Jon did his usual children’s book collector thing the other day, so that was weird af like always

[from: Tim Stoker] oh right shit i wasnt there!!!!! Damn it omg i had a plan to get you to finally explain Jon!!!!

[from: You] And what was this plan of yours, Tim? And why are you both so fixated on this, if I may? -JS

[from: Tim Stoker] god you text like a grandmother Jonathan Sims AND U DPNT HAVW TO SIGN OF UR TEXTS FOR THE MIKLOONGH TIME!

[from: You] I most certainly do not, Tim. Just because I use proper punctuation and grammar rules does not necessarily mean I type like an old woman. Also, what is “mikloongh?” I presume another typo? -JS

[from: Sasha James] hate to break it to you Jon, but that entire text just totally proved hsi point

[from: Sasha James] *his. And yeah, let’s assume it's a typo

Jon closes his phone as he walks in the door of the library, making a beeline for his back office.

“‘Morning, Jon!” Sasha says, putting away her own phone. “Why are you so grumpy? Sorry, but Tim’s right, you text like my nanna.”

“I am not grumpy, Sasha. I’m simply trying to get to work, as a new shipment of books is coming in today. Actually, speaking of that, could I get some assistance bringing in the boxes?” Jon asks, opening the door to the office and flicking on the light. “Gah!” he shouts, jumping about a foot in the air. “Good lord! Ugh, Tim’s back, I see. I thought I told you two to cut that out? Put it in Elias’s office, or behind one of the shelves, just not in my space!” Jon picks up Not-Sasha, the full-size cutout cardboard with a picture of the woman haphazardly glued on, groaning at Real-Sasha’s cackle.

“Yeah, he’s back. I tried to talk him out of it, I really did! But he said it was necessary, and I sort of have to agree. And he and I’ve got you on the boxes. How’s the leg?” Sasha inquires, referring to the injury he’d sustained in the recent … shelving accident. Jon considers his answer. He can tell her the truth, that it’s bad today and he’s doing everything he can not to limp pathetically, or he can say it’s just a bit sore. Jon of course goes with the second option.

“It’s fine, Sasha, just a little uncomfortable today. It’s the cold, I’ll bet.” Setting down Not-Sasha in the storage room, Jon returns to his office, now creepy-cardboard-cutout free, and sits down to work. It doesn’t take long for him to get in the swing of things, zero-ed in on his record-keeping, shelving in the stacks, and various other odd jobs that Elias trusts him to get done. At around two, Georgie calls him.

“Yes?” Jon says, keeping his voice down so as to not be audible from out in the main library. A family of four has just walked in, a mother and three young children. Tim’s showing the kids around the library, pointing out all the sections. He’s good with young people; Jon wonders how he might get on with the Leitner kids. 

“I’m just calling to remind you that we’re going to dinner at the Donnelly’s tonight, so you have to be home by six because dinner’s at seven,” Georgie tells him. Shit, he’d forgotten about that. “And you cannot be late,” she reprimands. Jon rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not going to be late,” he sighs, shouldering open the door in the back office that leads to the stacks, groaning as usual at the sight. The previous archivist, one Gertrude Robinson, had left the stacks very messy, and it had been a pain these past few months trying to organize the chaos. “Right, I’ve got to go, Georgie. I won’t be late, I’ll text you when I’m leaving, alright?”

“Sounds good, and I’m holding you to that,” Georgie promises. He can practically hear her stern glare. “Right, bye, Jon!” she chirps. 

“Bye, Georgie,” he laughs. Hanging up the phone, the archivist sits on the floor amidst a stack of newspapers and begins to sort through them, exclaiming in annoyance when he finds an article about World War 2 from 1947 amongst the stuff dated 2012. Why they keep all these old newspapers in here, Jon has no idea, but they take up plenty of space and plenty of his time trying to organize. In fact, Jon gets so damn engrossed in his work that when he looks down at his phone to check the time, he’s shocked to see it’s already 6:21. Because he does not want to suffer the famed Wrath of Georgie Barker, and because he actually very much enjoys dinner at the Donnelly’s, Jon manages to extricate himself from the stacks, relocking the front door, as the library closes at six and Tim and Sasha have already left. 

He texts Georgie his update and soon enough he’s with his best friend and heading to the top floor of the cobbled-together-looking block of flats, listening to the vaguely ominous elevator music that never seems to stop playing the same tune over and over, on what sounds like a calliope organ.

“So how was the studio today?” Jon asks. Georgie scoffs. “Oh dear.”

“God, I swear, the only person I can stand in there is Melanie.” Jon has heard all about Melanie, Georgie’s not-so-secret crush. “I am sick and tired of Jared fucking around with the mic! For God’s sake, can somebody please tell me why every single time he gets near a microphone the whole thing distorts so badly?” Georgie asks, waving her hands wildly. “It literally makes zero sense. And oh, do not get me started on Annabelle fucking Cane! Why does she have to be so fricking cryptic and manipulative? I swear, you can’t even ask a single simple question without her turning it into a philosophy lecture!” The elevator dings, and the pair step out onto the 6th floor. 

“Yeah, I remember that. She was weird,” Jon says, lifting a hand to knock on the Donnelly’s door. Nadia swings it open, her dark eyes and hair a stark contrast to her ghostly pale skin. Georgie swoops her into a hug.

“Hey, Naddy! Gosh, you look nice!” she says, holding the petite eleven-year old at arm’s length to observe her outfit. Georgie’s right, Nadia does look nice. She’s wearing a navy blue knee-length dress with ruffled sleeves and a matching headband. The eleven year-old has always greatly valued appearances, and dresses like she’s from the same time period as the stray newspaper Jon had found back in the stacks. It suits her, though.

“Hi, Ms. Georgie! Hi, Mr. Jon!” she chirps, giving him a quick hug as well. “Thanks! Mum saw this dress at the thrift store the other day and I’ve been looking for an excuse to wear it.” Nadia takes Georgie’s hand, leading the two into her apartment. Nana Dinah, a kindly-looking old woman with a face just like her granddaughter’s, comes rushing over, smiling wide. 

“Hello, my dears! Long time no see, you haven’t been over for dinner in weeks! Jon, how has the library been treating you? You look thin, my dear. Have you been eating enough? Georgie, has he been eating enough?” Nana Dinah wraps Jon in a warm embrace, patting him gently on the back. He returns the hug, careful not to shift her tishel from its careful knot atop her head. 

“Not as much as I would like,” Georgie laughs, shooting Jon a pointed glare. He scoffs. He eats plenty. 

“Oh, hey, guys!” James says, emerging from the hall. He’s practically a copy-paste of his father, all long limbs, freckles, and fiery red hair. After yet another round of hugs (the Donnelly family are major huggers) Mr. Donnelly pulls a delicious-looking roast chicken out of the oven, Mrs. Donnelly finishes tossing the salad, and they all sit down to eat. 

“Oh my goodness,” Georgie groans after taking her first bite. “Mr. Donnelly, you have outdone yourself this time!” Mr. Donnelly chuckles, patting his daughter on the hand and smiling fondly at the young girl.

“Nadia here did the whole seasoning all by herself,” he says, his eyes bright with pride. Nadia goes a faint shade of pink around the top of her cheeks. 

“Da, it’s not that big of a deal,” she mumbles, fidgeting with her sleeve. Jon can clearly tell she’s trying not to grin. Nana Dinah scoffs, shaking her head in disdain.

“Not that big of a deal, eh? You did it by yourself, and you didn’t use a recipe, you just did what felt right. That is the best way to cook, no numbers or measurements or things like that, just doing what you think is best.” Mrs. Donnelly nods along with her mother.

“Yes, Nadia. You did a very good job, it tastes delicious.”

“So, Nana,” James interjects, tossing a piece of salad into the air and catching it in his mouth before he continues speaking. “What I’m understanding is that the way you season chicken, and therefore meat in general, is by … vibe checking?”

“James Oscar Donnelly, do not throw your food in the air, and will you cut it out with the ‘vibe check’ nonsense?” Mrs. Donnelly laughs, nudging James’s shoulder a bit. Georgie chuckles.

“I’ve a boy at the studio voice acting part of the show, he’s called Callum, and the kid’s always using some new American slang,” she says, before taking another bite of her food. Jon sits in silence, observing the conversation, as the group discusses TV shows from the USA, which are good and which are awful, and how the slang from across the pond is rather different from most British colloquialisms. 

“Tim, at the library, likes to use ‘dude’ which I will never quite understand. It just … doesn’t sound right, if you know what I mean,” Jon adds.

“Marcus Lisel, at school, went to California on holiday over the summer and has used dude ever since. I don’t much like the word,” says Nadia sagely as she blows on her food to cool it off. “I find it rather unpleasant to hear.” 

After a while, the food is finished, Georgie and Jon try to help with the washing up but Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly shoo them away from the sink, Nana Dinah tells Jon to eat more, and the two bid the family farewell. As they make their way back down to their flat, Jon’s only thought is just how nice it is to be with people you love. 

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Martin K. Blackwood, tea-maker extraordinaire, is sitting across from his supervisor at the cafe, in complete and utter shock. Laid off? Laid off ? Was Mr. Taylor serious right now? Martin is the most paid employee because he’s been there the longest, so to save money, they’re firing him? It makes no sense. He’s never been late, never caused problems, never argued with customers or coworkers, so why him? 

“I … I understand,” Martin says, feeling completely out of it. Robotically, he thanks Mr. Taylor, for what he has no idea, and goes to get his things.

“Thank you for your compliance, Martin,” Mr. Taylor says. His voice is disgustingly calm, for having just totally uprooted another human being’s life. What an asshole. What a fucking asshole. 

Martin’s in his car and driving home before the panic really sets in, then he’s shaking and choking back tears because what on earth is he going to do? Where is he going to work? How is he going to pay rent?

There’s only one place Martin can think of that he could possibly quickly get a job, knowing the variation of the people who work there. Maybe, just maybe, he can find a job in the one place he finds solace on a normal day.