Work Text:
There are many things that Jon doesn’t expect when he opens his door on a cold Saturday evening, and his fellow researchers are two of those things. Tim and Sasha are standing in front of his door, shivering in wet coats, and holding large plastic bags bulging with the shapes of takeaway containers.
”Sasha. Tim. What are you two doing here?
Tim smiles sheepishly, and rain drips from his hair down the side of his face. “Hi Jon, long time no see! We brought food?”
”And drinks,” Sasha adds, shaking the second bag she’s carrying, which clinks loudly. “Food and drink, brilliant combo if I do say so myself. How are you?”
”Also,” Tim says, “mind if we come in? Only we’re a bit cold, and I think your neighbours would appreciate it if we got out of the hallway.”
Jon holds up a hand to stop them, keeping the door firmly closed behind him. “It’s been a week since I saw you both, Tim, I’m well, Sasha, thank you for asking, and I do see the food and drink, and it is an excellent combination, but none of that explains why you’re here.”
”Well,” Sasha starts. “It’s New Year’s Eve, right? So we’re here to celebrate with you!” She shifts her stance, and her boots squeak loudly against the floor.
”You’re both dripping wet,” Jon says, a little stupidly. It feels a little obvious, but necessary to point out, since no one else seems to be doing so.
”What can I say, boss, I’m just–” Tim let out an oof as Sasha elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow, Sasha, I wasn’t going to say anything bad!”
She glares at him, and Tim raises his arms– as much as he could with the two bags in his hands– and sighs. “Okay, I absolutely was, but you didn’t need to elbow me that hard. It’s raining, is what I was going to say.”
”Right,” Jon says slowly. The rain had woken him up earlier, so it made sense. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re both here if it’s New Year’s Eve. Don’t you have better places to be?”
They exchange glances.
”I didn’t have plans anyway,” Tim says, wrinkling his nose slightly. “I know, I know, simply ridiculous. I’m the life of the party, right? But I’ve just been too tired this year to prep for anything good.”
Sasha nods in agreement. “And I’ve just lost my taste for those big New Year’s parties, it’s always such a dreadful mess by the time the night’s over, and that one time I had the flu for the first three weeks of the year sucked.”
”And we missed you, Jon,” Tim says sincerely. “We all know you wouldn’t have come if we tried to drag you out, which, fair, people do kind of suck sometimes, so we brought the party to you!”
”The chill, three person, relaxed version of the party,” Sasha adds hastily at the look on Jon’s face. “No need to worry about the horde showing up.”
Jon stands there frozen for a moment. They’d really come over? For him? because they missed him?
”I should probably let you both in, shouldn’t I?”
”That would be great,” they say in weary, grateful unison. Sasha sticks out her tongue at Tim. “Jinx.”
Together, they push past into his flat, and head towards the kitchen.
”On the left,” Jon calls out after them, closing and locking his door. “And put your coats just, on the floor or something, I’ll bring towels.”
Many hours later, the atmosphere of Jon’s typically cold, austere flat has lightened, becoming warmer and cozy. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this at home in his own home, with people he trusts and cares about for company.
And as Tim regales them all with another story about some unfortunate escapade and Sasha needles him about his mistakes, Jon realizes.
Yes, he does care about them, deeply so. They’ve become more important to him than he ever thought possible, and he feels something stir deep in his gut as he watches them laugh and joke with each other.
Maybe he’s scared that all he’s been given will be snatched away again. But it’s not just the fear that twists through him anymore. It’s the thrill of having people to care for, the joy of realizing they care for you in return, and the beauty in being able to consider someone else a friend.
”What time is it?” Sasha asks suddenly, setting down her own mug of champagne and nearly knocking a stack of books to the ground in the process.
”No clue,” Tim replies lazily. They’ve all sprawled out on the floor, on an old shaggy rug that Jon’s grandmother had left him. Coats are piled on the armchair, and the loveseat only sits two, so it was the fairest option.
”My phone’s around here somewhere, hang on,” Jon replies, digging in the pockets of his sweatshirt. “11:42,” he says at last, holding it up triumphantly.
”Really?” Sasha sits up in surprise, reading the time on Jon’s phone. “I didn’t realize it was so late, we’ve been here hours!”
”And it’s been an amazing four hours,” Tim says, leaning back against the sofa.
Jon shakes his head. “Almost 7 I think, actually.”
”Almost what?”
”Almost 7 hours, Tim, can you even do math?” He worries, briefly, that his tone is too sharp or too blunt, but TIm’s eyes just widen comically, and he laughs in surprise.
”Shoot, you’re right! Maybe I can’t do math,” he says sadly. Then, he smirks and adds, “it’s probably all that gay in me, ruining my mathematical comprehension.”
Sasha groans. “You have got to stop debasing yourself to your sexuality for the sake of a joke, Tim.”
”And beside, that’s no excuse if I’m still able to do the math,” Jon adds quietly.
Tim bursts into loud, incredulous laughter, his whole body shaking, and Sasha joins in.
”Sasha, you can’t judge me now if Jon’s doing it,” he whines, and Sasha rolls her eyes.
”Alright fine, yes, you win, Timothy Stoker.” She’s rolling her eyes, but the smile remains on her face.
Tim gestures widely, his arms sweeping out and nearly smacking Jon right in the face. “As always, Miss James.”
”Oh, it’s Miss now, is it? Thank you Mr. Stoker, I do appreciate a bit of formality.”
Jon grimaces, taking a sip of champagne. “If anyone calls me Mr. Sims, you’re leaving my flat immediately,” he threatens lightly.
”Alright boss,” Tim says brightly, much to Jon’s exasperation.
”To be fair, you should’ve been expecting that.” Sasha says, laughing at the look on his face, and Jon, eventually, sighs and smiles softly.
”I should’ve, I really should’ve.”
Tim slides his mug onto the coffee table as well, and rearranges himself to lie on the carpet, resting his head in Jon’s lap.
”I am so tired,” he announces to the room at large. “Me n’ Sasha were out all day in the rain, running around getting food and alcohol and things, it was so cold and wet Jon, you have no idea.”
”If you’d told me,” Jon starts, but Sasha interrupts.
”If we’d told you, you would’ve gone mad trying to organize everything perfectly, and we wanted to keep it casual. No sense in any of us being stressed out, after all. And Tim’s exaggerating, it wasn’t that bad.”
”And it was supposed to be a surprise!” Tim adds.
Jon smiles down at Tim, and it’s hard to keep his expression from overflowing with fondness.”It was a very good surprise,” he says gently. “Thank you, both of you.”
”It was our pleasure, really,” Sasha says, but her smile is a little brighter than before, and she looks content.
”Yeah! Our pleasure,” Tim repeats, nuzzling his head against Jon’s knee. “Your legs are bony.”
”Ah, sorry,” Jon starts, but Tim waves his hands, once again nearly knocking Jon in the face.
” ‘S alright, don’t worry about a thing. I am very comfortable, everything is okay.
”That’s good to hear,” Jon murmurs softly, and resists the urge to run his hands through Tim’s hair.
Sasha checks her own phone idly and gasps aloud. “It’s almost midnight! 11:57!”
Rolling out of Jon’s lap and back onto the carpet, Tim sits up, hair now a dishevelled mess. “Right right right, gotta figure out who’s kissing who, pronto.”
”Who even says ‘pronto’ anymore, Tim?”
”Kissing?” Jon says, feeling his stomach swim oddly.
Sasha nods. “New Year’s kiss. We’ve had one, right Tim?”
”And I would be absolutely delighted to have another from you, dear Sasha, but I think we should worry about Jon first.”
”You’re right,” Sasha says, pushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes as she sits upright as well. “Jon, take your pick.”
”My– my pick?”
”Sasha or me, who’re you in the mood for?” Tim says. “Hot tip, I am absolutely the better option, and there is no disputing this.”
“Rude,” Sasha replies, poking at him. “Take that back!”
Tim swats at her hand. “Hey, hands to yourself! But yes, don’t listen to me, Jon. Sasha is obviously the better choice and we would all be so lucky just to breathe the same air she does.”
“That’s more like it,” she says, satisfied. “But yes, kissing schematics. One minute, by the way. I’m going to pull up a clock app or something.”
Jon’s a little speechless, really. He forgot that people did this, the whole kiss someone at New Year’s thing. It’s been years since he dated long enough to have a person to kiss at all, and he’s not particularly fond of kissing absolute strangers. The lack of affection, the potential for awkwardness, the painful lip smashing, he didn’t really see the point.
But here was Sasha, and Tim, and he found that he didn’t entirely know how to choose between them.
”And you don’t have to choose, if you don’t want to participate that’s totally fine!” Sasha adds quickly at the unreadable look on Jon’s face. “I’ll be kissing Tim, just because, but no pressure.”
“We are absolutely all about consent in this house,” Tim agrees. “Time check?”
“30 seconds?”
“Both of you,” Jon says, a little louder than he’d meant to say it.
There’s the briefest moment of silence, and then Tim beams at him, and says, “Brilliant! Any preference on who goes first?”
“Ah, no, I’m not picky,” Jon murmurs as his cheeks turn pink.
Sasha shrugs. “Tim, you can go first, then me, then us last, if that’s alright?”
“You know me, down for whatever. C’mere, Jon. Let’s make this real special,” Tim says with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly.
It’s just a kiss, don’t be stupid, don’t be ridiculous, don’t make a fool of yourself, Jon thinks, and slowly sidles closer to Tim until their knees brush, and he’s within arm’s reach.
”Ten, nine, eight, seven,” Sasha starts, and they both join in, counting down the dying seconds of the old year.
”Three, two, one,” Jon says softly, and then he’s being kissed, lightly but in a way that sends a wave of sparks flying across his skin. The kiss lasts a few precious, heady seconds, and then he’s passed off to softer lips and a sweeter, but still deliciously spine-tingling kiss, and he feels lightheaded when Sasha breaks away, and plants a kiss on Tim’s cheek before their lips touch.
Jon’s fingertips are brushing his lips, as though he wants to capture what he’s experienced, preserve the memory forever to be remembered fondly in the years to come.
”Happy New Year!” Sasha cheers loudly, and then they’re all echoing the sentiment, of a new year and new possibilities, the rush of opportunities and freedom that come with hundreds of days of what if’s and hope.
And yes, Jon thinks, as he watches Tim’s eyes sparkle, and Sasha’s smile curve upwards, and they sit so they’re all pressed close against one another, limbs tangling.
This will be a good year.