Chapter Text
Martin was rolling his eyes. “Office Whore is a bit of a stretch, I mean. Don’t say that about yourself, it’s not very nice.” Tim bumped him with his hip.
“I never said it was a bad thing!” He’s speaking through a spoonful of yogurt. “I’ve made half the people in this office come at least once, you think I don’t wear that like a badge of honor?”
Martin went bright red and looked down. “Oh– surely that’s a lie.”
Tim snorted so hard he had to spit some of his tea back into the mug, making Martin shudder. “Try me, and don’t call me Shirley."
For a moment, the only sound was Martin’s spoon clinking against porcelain. “Alright. Louise, in accounting.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “New Years Eve Party 2014. Give me a hard one.”
“Um… Jeanie, from the Library. With the, uh, the round glasses and the short hair? We worked together for three years, there’s no way she would’ve– Oh, fuck off.”
Tim was just giving a devious smile. “What? She’s pretty, she’d heard my reputation and cornered me at the bar. We were off-the-clock, I ate her out on the bathroom–” Martin squawked, literally squeaked, and Tim just pats his shoulder. “Oh, come on Marto. We’re all big kids here, yeah?”
Martin just nodded, swallowing and powering through. “I know you slept with Sasha.”
It wasn’t a question. “Yup. It was one of the times we went for drinks after work– Jon was there, actually. You were, too, and one of Sash’s friends from artifact storage– can’t remember her name but lots of piercings, crystals, the works. Couldn’t handle her liquor for shit. Eh. Jon left after one drink, and you left after him, then Storage Girl decided we should all do shots. Took two shots and threw up, we had to practically drag her home, and Sash n’ I were still buzzed and didn’t want the night to end, so…” he shrugged. “We ended up at her place, under the pretense of coffee. To sober up, ha. It was… nice. Good. She… it was really good.” He took another sip of tea. “I can’t say I regret it, especially not after everything that’s happened. I just…” He receded in on himself for a moment– Martin knocked his shoulder against Tim’s.
“Hey. She’s not dead.”
Tim nods once, Martin could tell his heart isn’t in it. “Right.”
“She’s not–”
“Martin. Drop it.” His voice leaves no room for argument, so Martin drops it. Tim’s head falls as his shoulders hunch up. “Sorry, Marto.”
“It’s fine.”
Things are tense for a moment, then Tim laughs. “Fuck. No pressure, but if we do the sideways jamboree I’ll have officially bedded the entirety of the Core Four.”
Martin rolls his eyes– “Oh, come off it Stoker. There’s no way ‘ bedded’ Jon.”
Tim’s eyebrows shot straight up, unimpressed. “Cross my heart.”
“You did not have sex with Jon.”
Tim smiles. “I did.”
“No! No you didn’t, I don’t think Jon even has sex. Melanie says–”
Tim just snorted “Melanie didn’t fuck Jon, though, did she?”
“I… how? Why? When?”
“How?” His voice took a lecherous tone. “Martin, when a man and another man are friends for a few years, sometimes one of them puts his dick in the other.” Martin eeks out a choked sound. “Why? Because he asked. When? When we were in Worm-entine together.” Martin goes bright red. Tim smiles, wide and predatory. “What, do you want to know more? Wanna know what we did, how we did it?”
Martin swallowed. “N-no! No, I wouldn’t want to violate his privacy like that.”
Tim hummed. “Oh, yeah. For sure, forget I said anything.” He looked Martin up and down. “Let's talk about something other than how I slept with the guy you’re in love with. Clearly, you’re not curious at all.”
Martin sighed, dropped his shoulders, rolled his eyes. “Oh for chrissake– yes, yes, obviously I want to know what it was like.”
Tim smiled, cat that got the canary. “It was the third day of quarantine and he was… wired? Like, real high strung. It was just the two of us and he kept snipping at me. Like, over literally nothing, more nothing than the shit he usually blows a gasket over. I was chewing too loud, I was typing too softly, at one point he got pissed because my shirt was too green.” Tim took another salacious bite of yogurt. “He referred to it as “performatively green,” whatever the fuck that means. The third night we were attempting to eat dinner together and he got on my fucking case, I don’t even remember what about. I said that we should just fuck so he could get whatever it was out of his system– I was mostly joking, but he got all red and agreed. It was before I had confirmation that he’s ace, but I always sorta figured he was, like, sexless? Just never got that sorta vibe off of him. We did it on the cot in the– yes, yeah, that cot I’m sorry, but in our defense, it was that or the couch and I know how many people have fucked on that thing.”
Martin throws a sugar packet at him, it bounces off his chest and onto his shoe. “What, so you had to spread the love around?”
“Something like that. He was kinda shy about it? Nervous, not in a virgin-ey way, more in an emotionally constipated way. But he was pretty good, honestly, ”
He took in Martin’s flushed cheeks. “Look. He was a great lay, got all cuddly afterwards and then said we should never do it again. Or talk about it again– I’m only telling you because I have faith that one day you’ll be able to tap that, so I’m just giving you a primer, yeah?”
Martin started hemming and hawing, spitting out several words that might have been “Tim–” or “That’s not–” until Tim started laughing. He clapped him on the shoulder.
“Alright, Marto, I’ll stop. Just… calm down, yeah? Seriously, I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”
Martin mumbled something about look at you and look at me, to which Tim dropped his bowl on the counter and grabbed Martin’s cheeks in his hands. “Hey, none of that. You are a fucking catch– you are, shut up. Remember? Office Whore, here, and I say you’re fucking gorgeous. In, like, a cute academic way? Real comfy looking, warm. All’ve you is warm, your sweaters and tea and voice. And you’re nice, so much fucking nicer than any of us deserve. You’re just, like, a good person. Don’t meet that many of those, not in this fucked up line of work. So yeah, Martin. You’re a real fucking catch, and anyone would have to be blind, dumb, or both not to see that. Jon very much included.”
Martin laughed at that– it’s easier to laugh than it is to acknowledge the budding tears in his eyes. “Thanks, Tim.” Tim wrapped two thick fucking arms (God, does he freebase creatine or what?) around Martin’s shoulders, lets his chin settle on the crown of Martin’s head.
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”