The Magnus Institute

A wiccian shop that specializes in crystals, tarot and occult books.
Employer of Jane Prentiss and Oliver Banks.

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[ He's still not sure what brought him into the Wicca Moon two months ago, other than a desperate need for answers about the haunting and horrifying dreams that had started to plague him. Maybe it had been fate, considering the help wanted sign he'd seen in the window and the fact that his savings was becoming alarmingly low. It wasn't as if there was a huge demand in the city at large for a burnt out banking lawyer who couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a decent night's sleep.

Plus, the job allowed him to do research while getting paid, which was better than spending hours in dusty libraries where the sudden sound of his growling stomach would win him rude stares. He'd even come to like some of the regulars, who seemed oddly cheerful for a shoppe that prided itself on a gloom and doom asthetic. The owner was rarely in, which left running the place to himself and Jane, who got on remarkably well.

When the bell over the door rings, Oliver glances up from the book he's reading, taking in the tall, pale man in the dark trenchcoat. He's only been in once or twice since Oliver's started, usually speaking with Jane, but there's something about him that had drawn Oliver's attention immediately. Of course, he isn't bad looking, but Oliver likes to think he's not entirely shallow, despite the mess his romantic life has been since Grant. No, there's something else that make Oliver look to the point that he got caught staring last time and had to make up a line about his hair. To which the man had thanked him and said he'd grown it himself.

It had made Oliver laugh for the first time in a very long time and he straightens up a little at the sight of him again, a pleasant feeling flooding his chest. It's ridiculous to have a crush on a goth, and yet, Jane called in sick this morning and there's no one else to wait on him. Oliver is just doing his duty, really. He closes his book and moves some stray crystals aside so he can lean over the counter. His voice sounds oddly chipper to his own ears. ] Good Morning.

From:

burntbooks

[ Gerard hadn’t been lying when he told Gertrude he was chasing a lead and it wasn’t entirely about wanting to see the man who worked there and try to make up for embarrassing himself by making a bad joke. Still the chance that Oliver would be there had him making sure that he wasn’t wearing anything that made him look too weird, or, worse, stupid.

It doesn’t look like Jane is there, which is annoying because every day that stretches between getting his hands on the buying history of the Leitner he’s tracking and actually finding him is another day where it has chance to slip further from his grasp or hurt that last buyer. Maybe she’s in the back and he can talk her into letting him check the buyer database to see if it’s a witch and if he can get actual contact details.

Not that he’s disappointed that he has to talk to Oliver, he isn’t. He goes right on over to the counter and leans on it in a way he really hopes is casual and not intimidating. Usually he tries for intimidating, that’s part of the reason he wears platforms that will apparently eventually wreck his knees or he’ll break an ankle in. Though what does Michael even know about fashion anyway? They make him look like he’s tall even when he isn’t. ] Is Jane in?

[ Jesus. Rude. Listen he swears he isn’t really three raccoons in a trenchcoat just pretending to be a human. ] Also good morning to you too. Sorry, I have a book related question and Google is failing me because it’s shit. [ Really he just hates Google because if you type in his name you just get a load of conspiracies about how he really did murder his mother and get away with it. He did not murder his mother. Hubris and evil books did that. But he can’t say that so; ] Which is impressive considering it’s killing the art of encyclopaedias and probably doing irreparable harm to literacy rates. [ Smooth. Really smooth. Fucks sake. Maybe he is raccoons. He runs a hand through his hair, which falls back nicely for once because it’s freshly washed. And blow dried. And straightened. Because he might see a cute guy. Hopeless. ]

Edited Date: 2025-09-24 02:42 am (UTC)

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[ Oliver raises an eyebrow when he immediately asks for Jane. Either he has no interest whatesoever in talking to Oliver or he's in a hurry. He feels a small bit of disappointment settle in his stomach, but he tries his best not to let it show on his face. He opens his mouth to explain that she called in, but Gerry goes on and a small smile settles on Oliver's face.

He hasn't yet ventured to taking his crush to google yet. He's actually not even sure what his name is, though he thinks Jane called him Jerry, once. All he knows is that there's a strange kind of aura that follows him as he moves. Something that tells Oliver in his gut that there's more to this goth than what there seems. He bites back a laugh at the line about encyclopedias and literacy rates and nods somberly.] You're probably right. [ He sighs.] Unfortunately, Jane called out today, but I can try to help you, or at least get you the contact info for two of our regulars that have probably been witches since the mid 80s, depending on what the question is.

[ He knows Jane probably wouldn't mind if he gave him her contact info, but he doesn't want to bother her when she's probably trying to sleep off the cold he'd heard over the phone.]

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burntbooks

I’m definitely right. [ Gerry grins despite himself. Take two with less embarrassing himself is turning into “oh God here we go again” and he doesn’t even have a meeting where he can get shitfaced later as a balm for it. It’s not as if he really expects anything to come of the crush he’s nursing, it’s just that Oliver is pretty and interesting. There’s something slightly off about him that The Eye either can’t see or doesn’t want him to and he can’t help but want to know. Probably touched by a Fear, but he seems pretty normal by every other standard. No unsettling threats to burn his face off or fling him into open ocean. Yet. Might be one of the less aggressive powers, that or it’s going to turn out he’s made of plastic.

Gerard is all too aware of how careful he has to be nowadays. Can’t say his surname or Pinhole Books in case somebody does a quick search and decides he’s a dangerous murderer. Still he has to explain himself somehow. ] It’s okay, I have a side trade in antique magic books and I thought I had up to date info for a buyer but it looks like he’s changed numbers, thought I might be able to charm her into seeing if you guys have an up to date one in your system. He bought something off me and I recently found out the book plate on it was probably forged and it’s worth a hell of a lot less than he paid me if it was. [ Best not to admit that what he’s up to is a bit of a black market thing, he hasn’t even told Jane after he met her while on a Leitner hunt. He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. ] Just trying to do the right thing.

[ Gerard looks from Oliver’s face to the book he’s reading. ] So do you read a lot or are you just passing time at work?

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[ Oliver snorts at Gerard's explanation, shaking his head slightly, even as his smile grows a little wider.] There's just one problem with your plan. I'm actually the one that built the new customer database and I haven't had a chance to train Jane on it yet. But the good news is, I'm not above being charmed, especially if it's in the pursuit of honesty.

[ Of course, there's always a chance that Gerard might be repulsed at the idea of trying to charm another man, but that was a gamble Oliver was willing to take, especially considering those pants and the way he'd leaned on the counter when he came in. There was also the adorable bit of color that had taken root in his cheeks the last time he'd visited and said he'd grown his hair himself. Oliver couldn't help but think an entirely straight man wouldn't have been as flustered.]

[ He glances down at the book and turns it over, hoping Gerry hadn't seen the title, Death and the Afterlife. He shrugs. ] A little of both. It's usually slow this early. [ He moves to log into the ancient computer on the counter with it's green background and terminal font.] What was the name of your antique magic book buyer?

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burntbooks

[ It takes a lot of willpower and the fear that he might pull a really stupid face trying for Gerard not to attempt to misuse his powers to find out if Oliver’s suggestion that he’s charmable too has any deeper meaning.

He smiles, head tilted and raises his eyebrows. ] You built a whole new system all by yourself? [ The last time Gerard borrowed their customer database it had been on an incredibly clunky spreadsheet that had stalled the entire computer system every time Jane tried to switch between search results so this might make his life much easier. ] Wish I had those kind of computer skills, I’m still on good old analog. [ He has a black address book full of people’s details and numbers programmed into his work phone, which is nowhere near as good as his personal one, he refuses to switch them over though.

He hasn’t actually paid attention to what the book is but as soon as Oliver flips it so he can’t read the title he wants to know what it is. ] Not gonna judge you unless it’s Harry Potter. Or maybe some kind of adult book, I mean at work? Really? [ He grins and then digs around in his pocket for the piece of paper that has the customers name on it. ]

Have you got a Mr Ernest Grimshaw in there by any chance? Home phone preferably, less likely to have been switched off than a mobile. [ Easier to find in the phone book. ]

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[ He shrugs.] I don't really sleep these days, so I've found trying to teach myself computers at 3am is weirdly productive. Not that I'm a genius or anything at it. [ He gestures towards the screen.] Especailly since this computer was ancient ten years ago. It doesn't even have solitaire on it.

[ He huffs out a laugh. ] It's 9am. I usually save the swash unbuckling for at least after lunch. [ His mouth tighens as he focuses on typing in the name, after a second he shakes his head, giving Gerry an apologetic look. ] I'm not seeing him in here. What kind of book was it?

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burntbooks

[ Gerard knows all about not properly sleeping. He has near permanent bags under his eyes that are only partially covered by deliberately smudgy eyeliner. ] Insomnia? It’s a bitch, right? But you can do great things at 3am. [ The Institute computers at least have Solitaire, Gerard has wasted many an hour playing it instead of working.

Gerard doesn’t quite have the guts to continue the flirty joke. Telling a man he’s spoken to a grand total of twice he can unbuckle his swash any time is a little too forward. He does however bluescreen a bit thinking about it and forget how to even explain away the kind of books he deals in. ]

One from the library of Jurgen Leitner, apparently. But I don’t think it really was and the real ones are bad enough so I can’t imagine what absolute shit someone might put in a fake. [ Whoops. ] He once claimed he had Alister Crowleys authentic book of shadows, though I think it was debunked. But you know, people love an exclusive collectors item and as long as they’re strictly for collecting or research into esoteric magic who am I to judge?

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You too? [ He raises an eyebrow, wondering what the Goth does at 3am. Is he a musician? Does he read ancient books about the occult? Does he light candles and channel his spirit animal? Oliver wants to ask, but it feels rude. That and there's that faint smell of death on him, the one that might mean he goes around being a serial killer, if Oliver's luck is anything to go by. He'd rather not know.]

[ He's heard the name of Leitner, but more as an urban legend than anything concrete. He cracks a smile thinking he's joking, still looking at the screen and not catching the expression on Gerry's face until he looks up.] Real ones? I thought they were just rumors, like the holy grail or the ark of the covenant. [ That would make the man in front of him Indiana Jones, though, wouldn't it? That's absurd.]

I don't think things end well for those that actually try to practice the stuff in the older books. [ Actually, he knows they don't, even if he can't explain how.] Most of the new stuff is new age-y crystal shit and harmless, but... [ He's bordering on sounding like a conspiracy theorist.] Somethings you shouldn't mess with.

Hold on, let me check one more thing... [ He tries to search by date, looking at the most recent transactions done by Jane and this time he finds something concrete.] Ah, here we go. [ He glances around, trying to find a spare sheet of paper. A shop full of books and there seems to be none visible.]

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burntbooks

[ Gerard nods sympathetically about the insomnia but doesn’t elaborate. The nightmares are bad enough but add in the occasions where he realises it might not be his own nightmare at all are worse. It’s off-putting when it comes to sleeping at all. ]

Oh, no he was real and so was his library. [ He wants to add “and you should stay far away from it” but it’s hard to avoid raising suspicion so he doesn’t. ] It got scattered and loads got destroyed, but the surviving ones fetch a decent amount and I’m pretty sure I’ve succeeded in vetting clients who won’t go off the deep end and try to do anything that’ll harm themselves or anyone else. [ Gerard knows all about things not going well for those who actually try the rituals, he’s seen it with his own eyes. It takes real work that he hopes doesn’t show on his face to keep the memories of the smell of blood and ibuprofen gel and images of skin hung to dry out of his mind. ] Like you said, some things shouldn’t be messed with.

You found something? [ He leans forward, hair falling across his shoulder in a cloud of shampoo scent. ]

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[ He's not entirely sure how to take Gerry's response. It sounds like a joke, but it feels all too genuine. He seems like the type of person that would have a dark sense of humor, but there's something about him too that Oliver finds weirdly grounded and real.] So you're the real deal, huh? I'll remember that if anything serious looking comes through.

[ He finally produces a pad from behind the desk and scribbles down the client's phone number and address. Normally, he'd feel weird, passing this kind of information on, but technically, Gerry and the client have already had contact. He rips off the paper and hands it to Gerard. ] If he asks, you didn't get this from me. [ He taps the paper.] Just do me a favor and stop in afterwards, just so I know you didn't get murdered or anything.

[ After a second of hesitation, Oliver pushes the pad and pen across the counter to Gerry.] If you want to leave your number, I'll call you if I see anything Leitner looking come through.

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burntbooks

Real as it gets, I guess. [ This is a line he walks incredibly well, looking just spooky enough that people don’t think twice that he has ties to the occult but being just nonchalant enough that nobody asks questions that get them too close to the fears. Magically agnostic. ] The book thing is my side project, I actually work for the Magnus Institute so even if it’s not a book I’m available to help out with anything that’s a bit… [ Gerard waves a hand nonchalantly before sticking it in his pocket and pulling out a business card. ] Spooky.

Don’t worry, I’d never tell, I’ll just act as though he gave me the right number in the first place. [ He picks the pen up and scribbles his number on the pad and places the business card above it. ] That’s my work contacts, office, mobile and email in case anything serious does come up.

Otherwise… [ he taps the scribbled number underneath with a black painted fingernail. ] That one is my personal number. For making sure I’ve not got myself murdered, [ he tilts his head and grins. ] Or y’know, anything else.

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[ Oliver takes the business card, reading it over carefully before his eyes flick back up to Gerard's face. Magnus Institute. He's heard of it, vaguely, in the same way he's heard of most things in the city... whispers from customers, half-remembered articles, the general buzz of urban legend. He hadn't expected Gerard to work somewhere so... official. It makes him seem more real somehow, less like the mysterious figure Oliver had built him up to be in his head during long sleepless nights.

He glances down at the personal number Gerard's written, feeling that same pleasant warmth in his chest from earlier, mixed with something sharper... anticipation, maybe. Or nerves. It's been a long time since he's felt either in a way that didn't involve waking up in a cold sweat. ]

The Magnus Institute? [ He turns the card over in his fingers. ] I've heard of it. Paranormal research, right? That's... actually pretty fitting. [ He allows himself a small smile. ] And here I thought you were just really into the aesthetic.

[ He pockets both the card and the pad with Gerard's personal number, trying not to look too eager about it. ] I'll definitely let you know if anything Leitner comes through. And I'll hold you to checking in after you visit Mr. Grimshaw. [ He pauses, then adds with deliberate casualness, ] Or, you know, if you want coffee sometime. There's a place down the street that's open late. Good for insomniacs.

[ He realizes he's perhaps been a bit too forward and clears his throat. ] For the "anything else" category.

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burntbooks

Pretty much. [ So he’s heard of it, interesting. Could be because he works in a magic shop but Gerard is always aware of just how many people have had at least a brush with the fears. ] Anything vaguely paranormal and you bet we’ve had at least one researcher looking into it. [ He leans against the counter like he’s being really casual about it. ] I work in the archive so my job is largely sorting other people’s projects so they can be accessed by anyone who wants to look further.

[ Gerard tries not to watch as Oliver fiddles with the business card or look too satisfied when he pockets it and also the pad with his personal contact number on it. He isn’t usually quite so bold but when you brush up against death quite as regularly as he does you start to learn that you can’t just sit around overthinking everything.

He pulls out his phone and taps a “don’t forget to go to Wicca Moon and prove you’re not dead” into it before turning it around to show Oliver what he’s done. ] I’ll do my best to remember. It’s on my way to work anyway.

[ It’s genuinely endearing that Oliver tries to pretend the coffee thing is casual, if he hadn’t tried Gerard would have thought he was just being friendly but it seems a bit too suspicious. ] Coffee sounds great, could kill two birds with one stone, you get to see I’m not dead and I get coffee and to see you. I’ll drop in after work once I’ve sorted things with Mr. Grimshaw. [ Fucking hell he hopes he sounded cool and not at all a bit flustered because his heart is racing a bit. He doesn’t go on dates, he’s always had too much going on or been a bit too weird and intense for anyone to look past it. ]

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Must make for some interesting talk around the water cooler, at least. [ He gives him a wry smile, even as he mentally files away the fact that Gerry could be a good contact for futher research into his dreams. Though, maybe he'll save that kind of talk for once he's gotten to know him a little better.

He assumes Gerry has just gotten a message and is replying to it, and tries to make himself look busy by straightening some of the items on the desk when the phone is turned around and shown to him. Oliver smiles, feeling something flutter in his chest. It's been a long time since he's taken a chance and overcome his fear. ] If you forget, at least I have your number now. [ He tries to tamp back on the smile, biting it down into a grin.]

Yeah, never cared for birds. Let's take them all out at once. [ Maybe he's starting to feel a bit reckless, or maybe he's just a little starved for connection. Either way he tries to throw the brakes on before he wrecks himself.] That's a long day, though, even with coffee. You really do like living on the edge, huh?

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burntbooks

Depends who’s doing the talking. And whether I’ve left the archive and gone upstairs for once. [ They’re honestly a bunch of cryptids in the basement at this point. They have their own kitchen so it’s rare any of the archival staff will ever be seen upstairs. Even if Gerry does have a soft spot for the library team. He really hopes Martin doesn’t dislike him now for not being able to reign Jonathan in.

This is the closest Gerard has gotten to owning up to the occasional memory lapse to anybody other than his team at work. But he wants Oliver to know he’s serious about wanting to get to know him and grateful for the assist in his current mission. Besides it’s made him smile and that’s worth it. ]

Yeah feel free to yell at me over text if I don’t come in. Though it’s also likely I’ve gotten nowhere in my mission to contact him or work got busy.

[ All the birds, huh? So it’s a date then. He doesn’t have quite enough nerve to ask. ] I do long days all the time, not all the eye bags are painted on. Some of it is natural. [ He has two jobs and much of his second one is done at night anyway, he’s used to grabbing a night coffee and staying out until the early hours even on a work night. ] Thank you for your help today, I owe you one.

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burntbooks

[ Gerry doesn’t like Christmas parties, he doesn’t actually technically like Christmas either even if it has improved significantly since he started accepting his standing invitation to join Michael for it instead of sitting at home blasting death metal, ignoring the idea of even trying to watch tv and pretending it isn’t happening. So the fact he’s at his second Christmas party in the same number of weeks is deeply tragic. He’s wearing the same sweater as he wore to the Institute party because he was informed ugly sweaters were mandatory. It’s black and has skeletons dancing around a tree in Santa hats and says “I prefer Halloween” in a metal font.

Truly the only reason he’s even in attendance is because Oliver invited him and who is he to deny the most attractive man he’s ever met, who takes him out for coffee once a week, when he asks if he’ll join him?

At least at this one he’s spared the second hand humiliation of watching Martin and Jon try desperately to avoid ending up under the mistletoe together when they could have instead just got under the fucking mistletoe and gotten it out of their systems. Not that he actually sees that working because they’ve been really fucking weird around each other since Halloween and he might not have been totally shocked if he found out there had been a bit of drunken kissing between Marty McFly and “a nerd” if it weren’t for the fact that he doesn’t think either of them has the balls. Which is some real hypocrisy that he’ll only admit to himself because he has also decidedly not had the balls. Which is ridiculous considering the sheer amount of flirting and the fact that Oliver brought him medication and hung out in his shit hole of a flat for several hours when he smelled of three days worth of migraine sweat. The writing is on the wall and yet.

Here he is at a stupid Christmas party because apparently “yeah sure.” is an easier thing to say then “can you come over and make out with me instead?”. He’s not insecure, he’s sure it would be more enticing than this nonsense. (Okay fine, he’s insecure and awkward and also shy for fucks sake.)

He quits wallflowering, if only because that’s the only way to stop the spiral he’s on his way down and instead finds Oliver in the kitchen where there’s an assortment of plastic cups and bottles of alcohol. It’s at least better than the Institute party where the only available drinks were wine or prosecco. Wine always reminds him of getting drunk alone as a teenager because it was the only thing Mary kept in the house so he avoids it like the plague unless it’s the only thing there. ]

I’m nowhere near drunk enough for this level of festivity. [ He informs his… date? Is this a date? Should he have maybe asked? Before putting his plastic glass down and reaching for the Jack Daniels. ]

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[ He'd been nervous about asking Gerry if he'd go with him to Jane's Christmas party. It felt like it was taking a step beyond his initial attempts at flirting and getting to know one another over late-night coffees. It was a step that he felt like he was taking on blind faith and might end up as more of a stumble. But much to Oliver's relief, Gerry had agreed and now his biggest worry is that he won't be bored to death, as he hasn't really moved very far from the wall he settled against when they arrived.

Oliver has tried to make it over to his side multiple times, only to be grabbed by Jane and asked if he can help with some crisis or be introduced to one of her friends from University. He's been a very neglectful date, if this is a date. He had hoped it was at the beginning of the night, but based on how things are going, maybe it's best if it doesn't count.

He looks up from pouring his drink to see Gerry appear in the kitchen. He gives him an apologetic smile. ] Sorry, we probably should've gone for a drink before. [ That would've been a great start to a date, actually. Take the edge off and allow for Oliver to explain that he has a sinking feeling that Jane sees him more as a boyfriend stand-in than a friend. But maybe that's not ideal first-date conversation, and maybe if Gerry doesn't get fed up with him and leave, they can get a drink afterwards.

He sees him reach for the Daniels, and he reaches for the bottle of decent whisky he bought specifically because he had a suspicion that Jane's liquor would be what was left over from her Halloween party. He reaches past Gerry's shoulder, close enough that their arms brush, and grabs the Jameson where it's been tucked behind a cheap bottle of vodka.] This one's better. Trust me.

[ He moves to open it, setting it on the counter between them. Gerry smells like cigarettes and leather and something sharp that might be hair dye. Oliver doesn't step back, letting the shoulder of his bright red and green sweater covered in tinsel trim and tiny baubles rest against Gerry's darker one .] Sorry I've been a bit neglectful. [ He lowers his voice.] Jane gets nervous about these things, but she keeps hosting them anyway.

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It’s okay. [ Sure the party has been lame so far, but honestly Gerry is aware that his own attitude hasn’t exactly helped. He’s not good at groups of people and had spent much of the Institute party glued to either the wall or Michael. Except the time he went and hung out with the old ladies from the library and got to talk to Natalie about the truly baffling development between their colleagues.

You’d think Jane would have given up trying at this point because it seems like hosting is incredibly stressful for her. That or she’s just being possessive because it’s fine when she’s friends with them separately but less fine when they’re friends. People are a mystery to Gerry, probably due to a distinct lack of socialising with his peers while growing up. ] It’s not your fault I’m not really a festive party person. [ Or that he doesn’t have any of his slowly growing selection of security blanket people. Michael is much better at being social and Jon is verbose and a little insufferable which makes Gerry look positively delightful in comparison, it makes things easier. ]

More expensive doesn’t mean better, [ Gerry raises his eyebrows and grins. ] But I’ll choose to trust you because the off-brand coke is bad enough. [ Off-brand lemonade is just fine but off-brand coke doesn’t ever live up to the real thing. And yet there’s a bunch of bottles of the Asda brand stuff. ]

Is Jane okay? [ He leans in and asks quietly, and it’s really only half out of concern, there is a part that’s purely to make himself look reasonable in comparison. ] I can’t imagine ever trying to host on my own, I do not have that skill. [ Mary had been great at it, in a sociopathic kind of way, she knew how to adapt to her guests and maybe not put them at ease but at least make it seem like she had everything perfectly practiced and under control but that is not a skill she ever successfully passed to her son.

He reaches out and gives Oliver’s arm a squeeze, the tinsel part of his sweater is an interesting texture. They honestly look ridiculously mismatched in the selfie Gerry took in the lift mirror and hasn’t set as his phone background. Yet. ]

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No? [ Oliver raises his eyebrows slightly to tease him. It's clear that Gerry may not be a party person at all, which means he agreed to come anyway, for Oliver. The realization makes him smile, even if he never meant for this to be some kind of social challenge. If he's being honest with himself, Oliver is only here because Jane may currently be his only friend, other than Gerry, and if he didn't come to these things out of obligation he probably wouldn't go out at all.

Oliver hopes Gerry doesn't think he's a snob because of the liquor. He had only been in the finance world for a few months, but certain habits had stuck. It's probably vain to want to impress Gerry the tiniest bit, especially considering that he knows enough about the other man to know he wouldn't be impressed by something as base as money. It kind of makes him want to kiss him even more.

Oliver glances up to make sure no one with within hearing distance before he responds. ] She's fine. She just gets a little controlling when she's anxious. She said she was glad you came.

[ Oliver reaches for Gerry's cup, their fingers brushing.] Here, let me make your drink. Show you how to enjoy the good stuff. What's your current pain point? Neat or mixed?

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Local pub frequented by The Institute Staff after hours.

Edited Date: 2025-09-24 12:07 am (UTC)

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[ Honestly Martin doesn’t think that leaving at four o’clock in the morning means he’s done too badly. Not after he had his arm twisted by three different people into coming out on Halloween in the first place, he was planning on going home and treating the day as a normal Friday night, with a ready meal and an early night. Apparently leaving before the bar closes makes both him and Jon a pair of “puthies”. Gerard had been getting lispier around his vampire fangs the drunker he got but Martin can’t really bring himself to be offended because it was too funny listening him trying to enunciate and because he’d insisted they both text when they’re home safe.

It was actually quite a fun night even if he had to be talked into going and further talked into going in a costume. He’s pretty thankful that he chose Marty McFly for his now that he’s walking to the station with Jonathan who came as “a tired millennial” and was immediately teased that he looked more like a grandpa by Sasha.

They’re heading for the same station even though it’s a bit of a walk away because it’s the only one with trains that run 24 hours on a Friday and neither of them wanted to try and make it another hour until normal services resumed. ] That’s the road. [ He says, interrupting Jon’s diatribe that he’s managed to miss half of as he concentrates on walking in a straight line and not bumping into a pair of girls who are clinging to each other and seemed to be struggling to stay upright. He pulls Jon back on to the pavement by the arm so he doesn’t get hit by a taxi even though it’s going at a crawl and would probably barely damage him anyway. ]

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[Jon blinks at Martin's hand on his arm, then down at the road he'd nearly stepped into, then back at Martin with a slight frown that suggests he's trying to piece together what just happened. ]

Right. Yes. Thank you. I was [ He's interrupted again as the passing cab honks at him, even though he's clearly out of the road now. Jon responds by stopping to glare icily at it until it turns the corner. He sighs heavily before picking up where he left off. ] I-uh, yes, I was saying that Gerard's entire costume is historically inaccurate. Bram Stoker's Dracula wasn't—he didn't go around with fangs and a cape doing ridiculous voices. He was a nobleman. He was sophisticated, he could walk around in daylight, he—the whole sparkly brooding romantic vampire thing is a complete bastardization of the original text.

[He stumbles slightly over a crack in the pavement and overcorrects, bumping Martin's shoulder roughly before steadying himself with perhaps more concentration than should be necessary for walking. ] And don't even get me started on the garlic and crosses. In the actual novel, those were...there was context, there was folklore and symbolism, and now it's just...it's just set dressing. No one even knows why vampires are supposedly afraid of garlic anymore, they just, they just accept it because that's what vampires do apparently, even though... [ He pauses, squinting at Martin in the streetlight. ]

At least your costume has a coherent narrative. Marty McFly is... he's a character. With a plot. That's more than can be said for 'sexy vampire number forty-seven.

Edited Date: 2025-11-01 09:21 pm (UTC)

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[ It’s pretty incredible that Jon can almost get himself run over and still carry on with the rant he’s having. Enlightening too, because now they’ve sorted out their differences Martin can see how Jon managed to build up a whole narrative in his head and keep it going even when given plenty of reason to just quit it and change course. He’s pretty sure it’s a combination of the alcohol and Gerard having whipped out his ID and proven that he’s only twenty-two that has actually caused Jon to go off this hard about vampires. Maybe also having been reminded that the English Halloween tradition is to dress as a monster not as a character so technically Gerard’s costume is traditional and not generic, actually thereby losing him the argument. If there’s one thing Martin has learnt about Jon in the last few weeks it’s that he’s functionally allergic to losing a debate.

Unfortunately for both of them Martin got talked into a couple of shots and he’s just drunk enough to stop just blindly nodding and to put his own two cents in. ] While I completely agree with being a purist I can actually see how vampire legends have progressed the way they have. I mean was Dracula not exactly what people thought was sexy back then? He was a rich landowner, exactly what women were supposed to aspire to marry and now that we have new ideals it tracks that modern vampires are more commonly rockstars rather than stuffy noblemen.

[ Martin considers not sliding his arm through Jon’s but he almost trips again and he can’t just let him fall over so he does it anyway. ] It would make a fantastic narrative though, modern vampires having to learn about why they have all these limits, like an allegory for the reasons for real traditions being forgotten. Like do many people know why we put up a tree at Christmas, or do they just do it because “that’s what we’ve always done”?

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[ Jon stumbles slightly but uses Martin's steadying arm as leverage to gesticulate more emphatically. ] That's exactly my point though! Dracula wasn't just a 'sexy landowner'; he was a threat. Foreign threat, specifically. The whole novel is about invasion anxiety and disease—Victorian xenophobia dressed up in evening wear. [ Jon's words are slightly slurred but his argumentative energy hasn't dimmed. ] And now we've...we've stripped all that away and turned vampires into brooding love interests who sparkle. It's not evolution; it's—it's sanitisation! Domestication!

[ He nearly squeezes Martin's arm hard enough to bruise in his enthusiasm. ] Your Christmas tree analogy is actually quite good though. [ This sounds almost accusatory, like Martin has scored an unexpected point. ] Because yes, exactly...people put up trees without knowing it's a pagan winter solstice tradition that got co-opted by Christianity, but at least the tree is still there. The form persists even if the meaning is lost. But vampires?

[ Jon shakes his head vehemently, his voice rising and echoing off the dark buildings. ] Modern vampires aren't even recognisably vampires anymore. Where's the corpse? Where's the plague symbolism? Where's the dirt from their homeland they need to sleep in? It's abhorrent. And no one cares.

[ A pause. ] Also Gerard is twenty-two? [ Jon sounds personally offended. ] How is that even possible? He would've had to have started at the Institute before he even completed uni. That's...is that even allowed? Did Elias just waive the requirements?

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[ Dracula did not actually birth the vampire genre. It borrowed a lot from folklore but this isn’t a hill Martin actually wants to choose to die on. Even if it’s kind of cute how animated Jon gets when… Nope. He shuts that down as effectively as he can. It’s been less than a fortnight since they hated each other and he’s absolutely not allowed. ]

Maybe that’s what the vampires wanted? Turn their legend into something more palatable so they can continue their nefarious deeds in peace! [ Oh Martin, if only you knew.

He could delve further into the Christmas tree thing, point out that the tradition has been so bastardised that people just put their tree out for the bin men when actually that’s a terrible omen and basically spitting on the spirit of having the tree in the first place but Jon has already moved on to being further offended at Gerard’s age and there’s a cold hard lump in his stomach.

Martin has not been to university and was very glad his identification wasn’t asked for at any time during the night. If anyone had seen it they would know he’s a full year younger than he’s been telling people. The fact that HR haven’t noticed is a small miracle. If they did he’d have to dig himself in further and say it was a typo and that the age tied to his national insurance number is the real one. ]

Maybe he’s a prodigy? [ He suggests weakly. He doesn’t have to work with the man but he knows that he’s very good at finding books that even the library staff have trouble tracking down. ] He’s excellent at finding out of print books for us when he’s asked to… So maybe… I don’t know, maybe he was good enough on his application and interview they didn’t want to wait for him to get a degree? [ Maybe it’s something to do with the article that comes up when you search for Pinhole Books on Google. Martin absolutely isn’t going to say that though. Gerard might not have been completely exonerated of what he was accused of but Martin can’t reconcile idea of the man who came down with the stack of library books and gently asked if he was okay with what it said he’d done and he wants to trust that his workplace isn’t so shady they would hire somebody who could do that. ]

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[ Jon stops walking entirely, pulling them to a stop, to stare at Martin with an expression that suggests he's genuinely considering this theory. ] That's... actually, that's not entirely... [He shakes his head sharply as if trying to physically dislodge the thought.] No. No, I'm not drunk enough to start believing in actual vampires conspiring to change their public image. That's ridiculous. Even if it would explain the proliferation of Twilight, etcetera. [ He waves his hand dismissively and starts walking again, pulling and leaning on Martin's arm. Martin is warm and soft and so very tall. ]

And Gerard is not a prodigy, Martin. He's twenty-two. Do you know how young that is? When I was twenty-two, I was still working on my thesis, and I certainly wasn't qualified to work in research or even just the library of somewhere like the Institute. The fact that he can find obscure books— [He pauses, frowning.] Which he is admittedly very good at. Annoyingly good at, actually. He found that book on the mediaeval rituals in under an hour when I'd been searching for days... but that just might be the... [He stops abruptly, shaking his head, his brain belatedly catching up with him. He's quiet for a moment.]

And Elias makes terrible hiring decisions. Demonstrably. He...do you know what he said to me? When he offered me the position? He said I was "the only person capable of bringing order to the Archives." That I was "uniquely qualified." And I believed him because I'm an idiot who... [He gestures sharply, nearly hitting a sign.] who apparently can't resist having his ego stroked by a man who knew I'd been passed over for promotion twice in research. Who knew I'd spent two years watching people with half my qualifications get senior positions while I was still... and then suddenly there's this opportunity, and he makes it sound like he's doing me this favour, like he needs me specifically, and... [ Jon stops himself, looking slightly mortified that he's said all that out loud. ] The point is. Gerard probably got hired because Elias thought it would be funny. That seems to be his primary criteria. [ The bastard. ]

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[ Honestly Martin had been taking the piss there. He didn’t expect Jon to even entertain that he might have a point and it does something to reduce the knot in his chest enough that he manages a laugh. ] Yeah, better get off that topic before we make ourselves sound like a pair of nutters. [ They do both work in a place dedicated to Paranormal Research so maybe it’s too late for that. ]

Oh even “just” the library, huh? [ He’s just about drunk enough not to take offence. Especially not when they’re on the subject of being wildly under qualified, which he is, honestly. But for the bit… ] So you’re saying the library staff are lesser? I see how it is, can’t be taking care of a collection of actual published books when you could be taking care of a bunch of moldy paperwork instead. [ He’s gives Jon a gentle nudge with his elbow but his tone is too entertained to come across as anything other than teasing.

Martin is pretty sure that qualifications mean less than experience and two years is hardly anything when people like Sasha haven’t been promoted after nearly six. He’s not even sure how much of a promotion being sent down to the archive really is, word in… well… everywhere is that the archive is a small collection of weirdos. Very lovely ones in Martins opinion, Michael is quite fascinating, Gertrude is still terrifying but she was very nice when her new hire had caused an issue and Gerard has been fun and also nice but still. ]

I’m only two years older than him, you know? [ One year. But he’s not about to tell Jon that, they’ve achieved a truce but he’s hardly close enough to admit that dark secret to. ] And that may be the case. Mr. Bouchard does seem to make interesting decisions but maybe there’s something about Gerard you haven’t seen yet. I don’t know. I’ve only even casually known him for six months so I mostly only know what the others have said.

Edited Date: 2025-11-04 12:45 am (UTC)

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Or I just drive myself insane. [ He has a habit of overthinking things once he gets them stuck in his mind. Luckily, the night's drinks help him toss this one right out of his head. He won't be losing any sleep over it tonight, at least.]

That's not... [ He huffs, shaking his head and taking his eyes off the sidewalk to look over at Martin.] I didn't mean "lesser". [ Even in this state he knows what an ass that would make him. It's true that he values education, his own in particular, but that's because it was one of the world's expectations that he could actually achieve. He'd always been good at school. Books had been his first real friends and gaining knowledge had been something that had driven him his entire life. Of course, now he has a better idea of why, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't still find himself constantly searching for answers to questions he can't even put words to. Maybe especially now.] I'm sorry, that was dismissive of me. [ He might be slurring his s's a little.] The library is important. Vital, actually. It's by far the most well known part of the Institute and the only thing that gives us even a hint of respectability.

[ He pauses, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly.] And the staff is very helpful and dedicated to maintaining order, despite the occasional miscreant who comes in trying to cause chaos over the number of books allowed out at once. [ He stumbles on a bit of pavement sticking up out of the ground, but catches himself by squeezing Martin's arm through his. He stares very hard at his feet for a moment at being the traitors they are before he looks back over at Martin.]

You're only two years older than Gerard? [He sounds genuinely surprised.] You seem...I mean, you don't act twenty-four. You're very... [ He gestures vaguely with his free hand. ] ...responsible. Gerard still has that sort of... [ He sighs.] He lounges everywhere like he doesn't have a care in the world. You don't lounge.

[ Jonathan had never been able to lounge, even when he was a sulking teenager. It takes a moment for that last part to catch up to him. He furrows his brow, the math playing out across his face.] Oh, that's right, you are... you are fairly new, aren't you?

[ Guilt tugs at his collar, causing his face to warm. He'd picked a fight with a twenty-four year old Librarian assistant in his first six months on the job. What an absolute ass he is.

He's quiet for a moment. ] Martin... I'm not sure if I've yet to actually apologise for blowing up at you. [ He puts a hand on his chest, as if the gesture will convey his sincerity.] I won't make meaningless excuses, but I truly am sorry.

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It’s okay, I was teasing. [ Martin gives him a gentle nudge. ] Thanks though, being the public face of the institute is a lot of work. [ He doesn’t have a little research cubicle that he can decorate with adorable Polaroids and mementos or a desk that he can leave a mess on and he can’t blast death metal through his headphones on the job because they have to be quiet and professional. At least the dress code is less strict than it is in other areas. Except the Archives where apparently hoodies and combat boots are acceptable workwear. He’s totally not jealous. ]

We can handle the occasional miscreant, even if sometimes the person under fire from the miscreant uh… Has to copy our bosses in so they’ll be held accountable if they happen to lose their temper and call them a colossal prick and tell them to fuck all the way off forever. [ The thing is he tries to be nice and accommodating so people seem to get the impression that it comes naturally and isn’t something he has to actively work on. ] Because that would be really bad, from a professional perspective…

[ Martin supposes he does tend to blend in to the scenery so he’s not surprised that Jon has only just cottoned on that he hasn’t been there very long yet. Maybe he’s just a natural at his job, though he very much doubts that’s the case. ] Yeah. I’m twenty-four and I literally just passed my probation. [ He was absolutely terrified that he wouldn’t and the six month review had given him such bad anxiety he’d felt nauseous for a fortnight, convinced they were going to tell him that he wasn’t good enough or they’d figured out that he lied on his application and it was all over. He’s eternally grateful to Natalie that she hasn’t told a soul that he started crying when her review was that he was doing a great job and people had told her they appreciated his help and how nice he was. ] Natalie actually said the same in my review. I just want to be good enough to stick around, I like my job and it’s a whole load better than night shift shelf stacking in Tesco.

[ He does take in Jons comments about Gerard with interest. Jon is intelligent but maybe not the best at people so it doesn’t really surprise him that he hasn’t seen through the devil may care attitude and eyeliner act that Gerard puts on. Martin has, he’s pretty much surmised that he’s probably painfully insecure under all of it. Besides he’s nice, he was nice enough to pull Martin aside and apologise for somebody else’s behaviour he had absolutely no control over. And he might even be being genuine when he compliments Martins sweaters. ]

It’s okay, we both looked pretty foolish, and like I said, you only just escaped me blowing up back. Don’t worry about it, water under the bridge. [ Jon doesn’t need to know that despite Martin feeling thoroughly embarrassed Gertrude had gotten him an apology gift and Natalie had called Jon “an arrogant little dickhead.” he’s not about to drop his boss in that one. ]

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[ Jon makes a startled noise that's half-laugh, half-choke, his eyebrows shooting up. ] Did you just...fuck all the way off forever? [ He's grinning now, surprised and oddly delighted. ] I had no idea you had that in you. You're always so nice to everyone.

But yes, professionally speaking... [ His smile fades. ] I think we can agree I was significantly worse. You showed restraint. I showed... [ He waves his hand vaguely. ] ...none whatsoever.

[ He's quiet for a moment. ] And you only just passed probation? Christ, Martin, you're...you're very good at your job. I genuinely mean that. Not that I've earned the right for my opinion to matter.

[ The forgiveness seems to come too easily and for a moment Jon isn't sure how to respond to it. He knows that if he hadn't been knocked off his high horse by Gertrude Robinson, he'd probably still be holding a grudge. He clears his throat.] That's... thank you.

[ He huffs after a moment and attempts a wry smile. ] I suppose if this was all an elaborate revenge plot, you'd have had multiple opportunities to push me into traffic by now.

I'll have to trust that you mean it.

[ He squints ahead, pulling off his glasses to blink blearily. ] Is that the station? Finally?

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[ Oh dear. Oh no. He’s cute. He’s not allowed to be cute. He’s not allowed to do that when Martin has a tender heart and is a bit drunk and Martin certainly is not allowed to start daydreaming about stealing a kiss under the streetlights because that would be insane of him (he is unfortunately a little bit insane.)

It’s the compliment going straight to his head. That’s all. He’s always been like that. A psychologist would probably have a lot to say on the matter, if he’d ever go and see one. ]

I mean… Yeah… I try? But nobody is nice all the time without putting in any effort, probably. [ And if they are good for them, but Martin has to work at it. Maybe he’s actually a horrible person underneath but he has to actively stop himself from spiralling on that subject. ] You didn’t swear? So you could have been worse?

I mean I get the easy work… It’s a lot of organising and taking notes and helping people out. I’m not allowed to edit the catalog or anything. [ He’s still too new and he doesn’t have a Library Sciences degree (or any degree at all) so he’s just an assistant but he supposes he is good at assisting. He has gotten better at knowing the shelf system without having to count his way down or surreptitiously look at the map recently.

He looks up when Jon points out the station. He’s saved. Or damned. He’s not sure which. ] Oh so it is! I suppose this is where we part ways. [ He pats down his pockets with his free hand until he finds his wallet and checks that his Oyster Card is still safely in there. ] Want to stay together until we’re down the stairs?

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