Work Text:
[INT. BUBBLE TEA SHOP]
[BACKGROUND: PEOPLE CHATTING, BAD DANCE MUSIC PLAYING OVER THE SPEAKERS]
TIM
(bitter, reminiscent of a cup of black tea that’s been steeping, forgotten, for an hour) I hope they’re having a good time
[PLASTIC HITTING PLASTIC, LIKE SOMEONE IS JABBING AT HIS BUBBLE TEA WITH HIS STRAW AND FAILING TO CATCH ANY PEARLS ON THE POINTY END]
MARTIN
(bitter, reminiscent of a cup of black tea that’s been steeping, forgotten, for two hours) I don’t.
TIM
(heh) Wellll... It’s more that I hope they’re having a good time, until something about the way Sasha talks reminds Jon of his grandmother, and the thought is so awful that he starts wishing it weren’t a date.
[ON THE WORD “DATE,” MARTIN LETS OUT A SOFT GROAN]
MARTIN
(glum) Cheers to that.
[THE TAP OF TWO PLASTIC CUPS AGAINST EACH OTHER]
MARTIN
(wistful) What do you think they’re talking about right now?
TIM
(glum) How smart and perfect they are, probably.
That, or work.
MARTIN
I don’t even know if Jon’s capable of not talking about work.
TIM
He was, back in research. (contemplative) He and Sash always got along swimmingly, but I never thought...
MARTIN
(oddly agitated) I didn’t even know he swung that way. Do you think— (lowering voice to a whisper) is it possible Sasha’s his beard?
TIM
(laughing) What, he needs her help staying closeted from us? You know, come to think of it, we are both such raging homophobes, so—
MARTIN
(laughing, but still tense) Yeah, alright, alright, lay off it.
[SILENCE]
TIM
Are you alright? You look... really wound up. Like, shaking.
MARTIN
(agitated) I’m fine, I just— (words bursting out) Look, I’m sorry, but—what does Jon see in her? Like, Sasha’s my friend, and she’s great, but—
TIM
(trying for lighthearted but landed on “stern”) Going to have to stop you there, Marto.
MARTIN
What? Oh, right, right, I’m sorry—
TIM
How about some ground rules. I don’t talk shit about Jon, and you don’t talk shit about Sasha.
MARTIN
Y-yeah. That sounds good.
[AWKWARD SILENCE]
MARTIN
I hope... that Elias calls Jon down to the Institute for an emergency live statement before they’ve even ordered food?
[CLINK OF ICE, A CUP BEING RAISED]
TIM
That’s the spirit!
-
[INT. ARCHIVES, THE ARCHIVIST’S OFFICE]
ARCHIVIST
I know you said, but your wording was ambiguous earlier, and I’ve gotten this wrong before in the past—this is strictly platonic, yes?
SASHA
(amused) Yes, Jon, I promise I’m not trying to steal your virtue—
[SPLUTTERING NOISES FROM THE ARCHIVIST]
SASHA (CONT’D)
—or your heart.
ARCHIVIST
That’s, ah. That’s good to hear.
SASHA
God, Jon, if I knew you were going to be this flustered over “My worm removal wound hurts, so you’re taking me out to dinner because I said so,” I wouldn’t have asked.
ARCHIVIST
No, it’s perfectly alright, I’m happy to—
SASHA
If it helps, I’m also aromantic as hell.
ARCHIVIST
Oh! That’s, well. (inhale) (enunciating each word clearly and sincerely) Thank you for telling me, Sasha.
SASHA
(laughing) You can stop making that face, I haven’t been hiding it, or worried about your reaction or anything. I only really figured it out recently. I haven’t even told Tim yet.
ARCHIVIST
(awkward) Ah. Well, either way, I’m glad that you found a label that works for you.
SASHA
So am I.
ARCHIVIST
(abrupt) I’m... I’m asexual. Not that it—but I thought you might like to know.
SASHA
Nice!
[SOUND OF A HI-FIVE BEING EXCHANGED]
SASHA (CONT’D)
And you’re right, I do like to know.
So, you ready for Aspec Solidarity Dinner?
ARCHIVIST
I thought this was Sorry You Got Stabbed Dinner.
SASHA
(with exaggerated gravity) Sometimes, things... can be two things.
ARCHIVIST
(heh) Fair enough.
-
[INT. BUBBLE TEA SHOP, SEVERAL HOURS LATER]
[LESS BACKGROUND CHATTER THAN BEFORE]
MARTIN
(dreamily) I hope they both get food poisoning. Not— (correcting course) not anything too bad, just... unpleasant enough that their neural pathways start connecting the idea of a romance between them with feeling sick.
TIM
(mock-offended) What, you think getting food poisoning with someone means you can’t stomach the sight of them again? And here I was thinking we were friends!
MARTIN
Well, we weren’t on a date, then. The logic works out differently. You don’t make me ill, but the idea of stakeouts does.
TIM
I mean, we could.
MARTIN
Could...?
TIM
Go on a date. A proper one.
MARTIN
What, like, to make Jon and Sasha jealous?
[BEAT]
MARTIN
Shit, Tim. I’m—
TIM
(quiet) I was just thinking a date in general, but—
MARTIN (CONT’D)
—so sorry, that was so inconsiderate—
TIM
(overlapping) No, no, it’s alright. It was... stupid to ask. I know how much you like Jon.
MARTIN
And I thought you were—I thought—Well, you just spent an hour talking about how you were interested in Sasha?
TIM
Doesn’t mean I can’t have other interests.
MARTIN
Right. I mean—
TIM
Let’s just agree to forget about it.
MARTIN
I mean, it’s not that I don’t—
TIM
We’re having fun, right? Let’s keep having fun.
[SILENCE, OF THE UN-FUN VARIETY]
MARTIN
(quiet) So you really want to forget about it?
TIM
Martin, what does that even me-
MARTIN
I don’t know! I just—Can we talk about it tomorrow?
TIM
... Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.
[MORE SILENCE]
TIM
(with forced enthusiasm) Hey. I just had an idea. Do you want to get really, really drunk?
-
SASHA
(laughing) And then— (laughing harder) they just hung up on me! Just like that!
ARCHIVIST
(engrossed) What did you do then?
SASHA
Called them back, of course.
ARCHIVIST
No.
SASHA
It was my favorite sweater, Jon, I wasn’t going to let it rot just because Tim left it behind while trespassing for you!
ARCHIVIST
So now it’s my fault, too?
SASHA
Absolutely. I think you owe me, oh, at least two more dinners for that.
ARCHIVIST
(audible smile) That can be arranged. Though, (hesitating) I don’t know if that’s... wise.
SASHA
(mildly exasperated) Listen, Jon, just because you can technically fire me now doesn’t mean we can’t still spend time together.
ARCHIVIST
Well, yes, but—
SASHA
You’re my friend, Jon. I missed talking to you.
ARCHIVIST
(somewhat touched) I... also consider you a friend, Sasha.
SASHA (CONT’D)
(smug) Besides, I know you’d never fire me, anyway.
ARCHIVIST
From a professional standpoint, I can neither confirm nor deny that.
SASHA
Ha! Knew it.
Movie at mine after we—sorry, after you—pay?
-
[INT. TIM’S FLAT, SEVERAL HOURS LATER]
[SOUNDS FROM THE TV]
MARTIN
(earnest, clearly inebriated) I can’t believe David broke up with you! That was so mean! How could anyone be so mean to you?
TIM
I can’t believe Jon’s so hard on you. I know you didn’t get a degree, but you work so hard, Marty. It’s not fair.
MARTIN
(sighing) ’Least he’s pretty.
TIM
So pretty.
MARTIN
Just wanna hold his hand.
TIM
(daydreaming) Sash has nice hands.
[SILENCE AS THEY FANTASIZE]
MARTIN
(coming back to himself) This isn’t fair. You’re hot! People should be getting weepy over you!
TIM
And you’re hot and you write poetry! We should be the fucking office heartthrobs!
MARTIN
Fucking David.
TIM
Fuck that guy. Or, don’t, actually.
[TIM GIGGLES]
MARTIN
What?
TIM
Your face is so red, Marty. (contemplative) Sash’s favorite color is red.
[DRUNKEN SILENCE]
MARTIN
(whispering) Hey. Hey, Tim.
TIM
Yeah?
MARTIN
Y’know what you should do?
TIM
What?
MARTIN
You should text her.
TIM
Nuh. No way.
MARTIN
You should!
TIM
Only if you text Jon.
MARTIN
No, no, Tim.
TIM
Yes! Where’s your phone? Gimme.
MARTIN
(whining) Tim, no, he’s my boss, Tim!
TIM
It doesn’t have to be weird! Either you write something and send it, or I do.
[MARTIN RECOILS IN HORROR]
MARTIN
Fine.
-
[INT. SASHA’S FLAT]
ARCHIVIST
(puzzled) I just got a text... from Martin.
SASHA
(with a mixture of surprise, anticipation, and amusement that can only come from suspecting something that Jon doesn’t) Oh? What does it say?
ARCHIVIST
It says, um, (spelling out the typos) “hpe ur date went well an no food poisonig”?
SASHA
(laughing) Sorry, what?
ARCHIVIST
I really don’t see—W-wait. (fast) When Prentiss had Martin’s phone, she kept talking about a stomach bug—do you think this is her again? Is he in danger?
SASHA
(suppressing laughter) I really don’t think it’s Prentiss.
ARCHIVIST
How can you be sure? We should probably go to the Institute, or at least call Elias, or—
SASHA
Martin’s fine, Jon. I just got a text from Tim about him.
ARCHIVIST
Oh! Well, that’s a relief.
SASHA
(giggling) Listen to this: (enunciating each word) “me n marty r soooo drunk i miss u an i thin ur lauh is pretty also lrgally u have 2 tell me if bossyboss is a good ksser ok byeeeee.” And then, five—no, six exclamation points.
ARCHIVIST
Good... kisser? (horrified) Wait, do Tim and Martin think we’re...
SASHA
(giggling) Apparently so.
ARCHIVIST
Should we—should we correct them?
SASHA
Well, yeah.
[BEAT]
SASHA (CONT’D)
(sly) On Monday, that is.
-
[INT. TIM’S FLAT]
MARTIN
He said, (reading off his phone) “This is highly unprofessional, but yes, Sasha and I are passing a—” Passing? Tim, they’re still...
TIM
(with a deep and heavy sadness completely at odds with the actual words) Damn. Get it, Sasha.
MARTIN
(continuing) “—a perfectly pleasant evening. It was kind of you to ask.” (despondent) Tim. I hate this.
[BEAT]
MARTIN
Tim?
TIM
(flat) I just got a text from Sasha.
MARTIN
(dreading the response) What’s it say?
TIM
See for yourself.
[THEY LOOK AT TIM’S PHONE IN SILENCE]
MARTIN
(quiet) I’ve... I’ve never seen Jon with his hair down before.
[MORE STARING]
TIM
They look fucking adorable.
[MORE STARING]
MARTIN
Jon looks so happy.
TIM
So does Sash.
[A LONG MOMENT OF CONTEMPLATION]
MARTIN
(inhale) (determined) You know what? (exhale) (forcing the words out) I’m... I’m glad they’re having a good time.
[A LONG SILENCE]
[TIM GROANS]
TIM
(glum) Yeah. Me too.
-
bonus:
[INT. SASHA’S FLAT]
SASHA
Aw, look at this.
[FABRIC RUSTLING AS JON SHUFFLES CLOSER]
ARCHIVIST
Is that...? Oh. Well, they certainly look alright. No worms, or... Michael.
SASHA
I’m just glad Martin has a place to crash tonight other than Document Storage.
ARCHIVIST
I mean, I can’t imagine that Tim’s couch will be that much better than the archives cot.
SASHA
(heh) Tim’s couch, right.
[BEAT]
ARCHIVIST
(surprised) You think...?
SASHA
That they’re sleeping together? I mean, I don’t know for certain, but Tim’s talked to me about Martin before, and... well, let’s just say I “strongly suspect.”
[DEAD SILENCE. THE ARCHIVIST FEELS HE IS CLOSE TO AN EPIPHANY, AND IMMEDIATELY BATS IT AWAY. ALTHOUGH HE NEVER REACHES IT, THE GRIEF THAT WOULD ACCOMPANY SAID EPIPHANY IS STILL FELT ACUTELY]
ARCHIVIST
(flat) Oh.