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“Mr. Sims? Mr. Bouchard would like to see you in his office.”
Great. And the morning was going so well. Or, well, at least not terribly. Ugh.
Jon stands and attempts to leave discreetly. Unfortunately, he isn’t very good at it.
“Boss! Where are you headed? You never leave your desk unless… oh! Oh no! Have you been a bad Head Archivist? Were you called down to double-boss’ office??” Tim’s glee is palpable.
Jon pointedly does not respond.
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“Good morning, Rosie. You said he wanted to see me?” Jon attempts to keep his voice level and professional. Rosie pretends not to notice how bad he is at it.
“Yes, Mr. Sims. You can go right in, he is ready for you.”
Well that sounds… ominous.
“Ah, good. Jon. Please, have a seat.” Elias cannot fully disguise the mirth in his eyes. “I have been meaning to discuss your managerial performance.”
“Is this my formal review? I thought that wasn’t until…” Jon’s voice trails off. This can’t be good.
“No, this is not a formal review. There have, however, been some concerns regarding your leadership. Your team does not appear to fully respect your authority, is not working at peak capacity, is disorganized and consistently flaunts the institute dress code, and now you seem to have started your own sleepaway camp. In the office. You had to know there would be… consequences.”
“Ah, yes. I understand, sir. What, may I ask, would those be?” Jon expects this will be… unpleasant, but it is worth it to make sure Martin is safe.
“Well, since you are so interested in starting a sleepaway camp, I thought the most appropriate response would be a staff development event.” Elias is almost grinning.
“What? What do you mean?” Jon manages to answer, his head swimming in panic.
“The institute maintains a number of properties to meet the needs of the staff. One of these is a lovely, rustic campground. This would be an ideal opportunity for your team to bond – enjoy each other’s company. Share stories. I’d imagine Tim could teach you how to kayak, I understand he is quite fond of it, and the river running through the property is ideal.” Elias is perfectly giddy as he watches Jon writhe in discomfort.
“Couldn’t you just, I don’t know, take one of my eyes out with a stapler?” Jon asks, hopefully.
“I don’t think that will be necessary at this time, Jonathan. Let your staff know. You will be leaving after lunch on Friday.
“Wonderful. Thank you, sir. Will that be all?” Jon asks as he rises to leave.
“Yes, thank you, Jon. Rosie will contact you with the details.”
Well. That’s just wonderful, isn’t it?
As he expected, Tim, Martin, and Sasha have gathered in the break room to await his return. It was, of course, too much to hope they might have gotten some actual work done in his absence. Perhaps he does need to improve his managerial skills after all.
“Welcome back, boss! Glad to see you still have all of your limbs. What did double boss want?” Tim is practically bouncing with the need to know. Probably the quality that brought him to the institute to begin with.
“I suppose nothing will be accomplished today until I tell you.” Jon takes a deep breath and steels himself. “Elias is sending us on a team-building camping trip.” Jon nearly chokes on the words.
There had clearly been a betting pool among the assistants. Apparently, no one had placed a bet on this eventuality.
Martin recovers first. “Jon. He’s making us sleep outside? In tents? What about the worms??” His voice is pitched up high. He’s clearly terrified.
Sasha shakes her head. “Jon, that’s not funny. Are you sure Elias isn’t just messing with you? Is this a really terrible joke?”
Tim hangs his head in resignation. “Elias doesn’t joke, Sash. This… it’s happening.”
Martin is beginning to panic. “I can’t go sleep in a tent outside. That’s where worms live. Outside! I can’t… this can’t be happening.”
Jon places a steadying hand on Martin’s arm and attempts to ignore the sensation of warmth that results from the contact. “It will be all right, Martin. Well, no, it will be absolutely miserable. But we won’t be in any danger. The grounds are owned by the institute. I have to believe that Elias has managed to ensure it is protected.”
Martin takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. Right. Good. But, Jon. There will still be worms there. Regular ones. And bugs. And spiders…” Martin realizes what he just said and looks up apologetically.
“Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it. We leave at lunchtime on Friday. I hope you all did not have important weekend plans, but it was quite clear this is not a request. For now, let’s try to get some work done. Sasha, could you come to my office?” Jon makes a quick retreat back to his desk. Sasha grabs a legal pad and pen from her desk and follows.
“What can I do?” Sasha asks brightly. She has clearly moved on to acceptance and decided to make the best of it.
“As you are probably aware, I do not exactly have much experience with camping. My grandmother never saw the point of sleeping on the ground when you have a perfectly comfortable bed at home. Could you help organize things? Food, supply lists, ideas about what sorts of… activities would be appropriate?” Jon asked. “This is outside the scope of your employment, so this is not a command. You can feel free to say no.”
“Are you kidding? You’re putting me in charge of planning? That’s brilliant. I won’t let you down!” Sasha’s mood has brightened considerably. Well, at least someone is happy.
As expected, not much gets done that day, but Sasha and Tim have had their heads together, probably plotting. Jon is relieved to see that they have drawn Martin into their huddle and he seems like he might be enjoying himself. That’s something. He does deserve some time outside. And it is nice. Seeing him smile.
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The rest of the week passes quickly. When Friday arrives, they all come with backpacks and duffel bags packed for the weekend. Elias has helpfully provided institute issued tents and sleeping bags. The small camp stove, propane tank, and lighter are stowed outside in the car Rosie has arranged for them. No matter how hard Jon concentrates on the clock, willing it to slow down, the morning passes quickly and it is time for mandated team bonding. Maybe Jon died. Maybe this is hell.
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The campsite is… nice. A flat, carefully maintained site with a couple of picnic tables and a fire pit. Kiln-dried wood is stacked neatly, ready to use. Which is good. Jon’s never been particularly good with an axe. Not enough upper-body strength. Though, Martin would probably be good at chopping wood… those strong arms. Maybe it would have been better if they had needed to provide their own firewood after all… Stop it, Jon’s brain. Focus.
Sasha efficiently walks them through the process of setting up the tents. It honestly doesn’t go too badly, though Jon does manage to hit his thumb instead of the tent stake a couple of times. No major injuries.
Tim pipes up. “Sash and I have dibs on this one!” He cheerfully starts stowing their bags away.
Jon looks uncomfortable. “I had thought… it would be more appropriate for Sasha to have her own tent and assumed we would be in the other… Sasha, are you… comfortable with those arrangements?”
Sasha smiles brightly. “Yes, Jon. I’d rather not let the bears get me. I’m sure Tim will protect me from any wild animals. And I filed the appropriate HR paperwork before we left.”
“Sasha, there are no wild bears in England. Brown bears went extinct in Britain over 1,000 years ago due to habitat loss and hunting. And I told you, this may not be particularly pleasant, but we are perfectly secure here.” Jon studiously avoids looking in Martin’s direction.
“Well, still. Better safe than sorry! C’mon, Tim. Let’s start setting up the stove. I’m famished.” Sasha and Tim continue unloading leaving Martin and Jon to stow their belongings, which they do as awkwardly as humanly possible.
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Martin is surprisingly adept at getting the campfire going. While he is clearly not the outdoorsy type, he and his mum have stayed in plenty of places with wood stoves and old fireplaces. Jon tries not to look too impressed, but Tim and Sasha are open and effusive in their praise.
As they all sit comfortably in a circle around the fire, full of sausages cooked over an open flame, Jon thinks that perhaps this wasn’t such a terrible punishment after all. Then, Tim brings out the harmonica. Well, shit.
Tim approaches the harmonica as he does most things. With unmerited confidence and full volume. It is… terrible. After being frozen in horror for a few ear-splitting minutes, eventually Martin manages to pin Tim’s arms to his sides as Sasha plucks the offending instrument from him. Tim pouts. Like a child.
“Hey. I was adding to the atmosphere. Fine. If you’re not going to let me play, someone has to.” He stares daggers at Sasha and Martin.
“I… um. I can. Play. The harmonica. If… if you’d like.” Jon offers, nearly under his breath. Everyone freezes. Afraid that any movement at all might break the moment of revelation that has just occurred. Wordlessly, Martin releases Tim, and Sasha crosses to Jon, gently proffering the instrument.
Jon blows a few experimental notes. Then, the unthinkable occurs. Jon plays the harmonica. For real. It is like the instrument is an extension of himself that has been missing. As he plays, his whole demeanor changes. He uncurls and holds himself with a level of self-assurance that even Tim has never seen in him.
The song ends. There is complete silence aside from the crackling of the flames. Jon curls into himself again, red-faced from more than the glow of the firelight.
“Jon… Jon, that was. It was beautiful.” Martin breathes, breaking the silence.
“Where on earth did you learn to do that, boss?” Tim still looks shocked. Sasha enthusiastically gestures that she has the same question.
“Um. Well. I was… it was in uni. I was… I was...” Jon takes a moment, then confesses, “I was in a band.” He looks up to gauge how the others are handling this revelation. He is met with the blinking eyes of his three assistants. They are all speechless. Even Tim.
“I was the lead singer, but didn’t really play any instruments. It was awkward just standing there during the instrumental bits, or when others sang, so. I… well. I learned to play the harmonica.”
Sasha begins furiously googling on her phone. Great. Jon had hoped that the rustic location would have prevented a decent signal, but no such luck. Tim looks like Christmas has come early this year.
“How have you never told us?? Is this real? Did we drive through some kind of portal on our way here and this is Alternate Reality Jon who used to be cool in uni?”
Martin swats Tim’s leg. “Jon. Could you… would you mind playing a little more?” And how could Jon possibly resist Martin’s request when he looks at him like that?
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It was too much to hope that Jon’s stage name would thwart Sasha’s efforts to find Jon’s old band photos. She and Tim pass the phone back and forth between the two of them, laughing. Martin tries to seem disinterested, but does manage to sneak a look. Oh. Oh God. Jon was hot back in uni. Not “just exactly Martin’s type” dark academia hot he is now. The jaw-dropping, head-turning, objectively gorgeous kind of hot. There was leather, and belts, and so very much eyeliner. Martin makes a hasty retreat to the tent to get things set for bed. It is getting late, after all.
Sasha manages to find some grainy video footage of past performances. Great. Jon is going to have to quit his job and move. To a different continent. And never see anyone he knows ever again. That’s the only possible future. Sasha and Tim retreat to their tent, sharing Sasha’s earbuds and giggling like children. Jon doesn’t know how on earth he will face them in the morning.
He watches as the fire burns down to embers, then covers them with sand to make sure it is fully out. Maybe he will be lucky and Martin will be asleep already.
“Jon. Hi. I um. Well, I’ve set up the sleeping bags.”
Jon looks and notes with surprise that Martin has zipped the two bags together, making one snug sleeping bag for two. This was… unexpected.
“Is this… is it okay? I just thought… I know that you’re always cold and I worried that you might not be able to sleep if you couldn’t… you know. Get warm. I saw that you were basically… trying to become one with the fire out there and figured you were probably pretty cold… it’s stupid. I should have asked. I can… I can separate them… won’t take any time at all…” Martin bends to start unzipping the sleeping bags.
“No, Martin. Leave it. It’s… fine. I do… have difficulty sleeping when it is too cold. And besides, I heard there could be spiders. I might require protection.” Jon climbs into the sleeping bag before he can think too hard about it.
“Yeah, fair point. I can do that. Protect you. If there are any. You know. Spiders.” Martin crawls carefully into the sleeping bag next to Jon. They are, by necessity, pressed closely to each other. Martin wraps a protective arm around him.
Maybe camping isn’t so terrible, after all.