Chapter Text
All the corners of you;
All the bones that I knew
"Is it too cliché to write my phone number on a napkin?"
"Is it too cliché to pop a few buttons on my blouse?"
Martin had just come in and watched Hannah do just that. Olivia next to her chuckled.
"What are we talking about?" Martin asked and startled both of them.
"Martin! What are you already doing here?"
"My shift starts in twenty minutes?"
Olivia checked on her phone. "Shit, you're right! I was too lost in the eyes of that hunk."
"I'd rather be lost in his bed," Hannah muttered and waved Martin closer. "Table on the left side, all the way in the back."
Martin pulled his apron on and leaned over the counter to see what all the fuzz was about.
"Wow!" That came out without his permission, but it sent both girls into a laughing fit. He couldn't even be mad about it because wow.
The guy sitting at the table was unfairly attractive. His torso was basically a triangle with strong shoulders and defined arms. He had to know because while wearing a button-down, his sleeves were pushed up and his arms rested on the back of the chair next to him. His hair was dishevelled in a very deliberate way, and under the low lights of the café it looked like gold.
Then the guy looked up from his work and all three of them scrambled.
"His name is Tim. Wrote it on his cup with a little heart. Made him laugh", Olivia confessed.
"I've never seen him here before."
"Neither of us have. The other guy he's with comes in on some mornings."
Martin hadn't noticed anyone else, but his eyes had been rather occupied. He usually didn't take the early shifts, that was when he took care of his mom, but he'd been working at Café Alexandria for four years now, and knew his regulars.
It was early afternoon, and the coffee shop wasn't quite busy yet, but he still looked around for something to do, preferably something close to that table.
Hannah just snorted. "Believe me, every task in his proximity has been taken care of."
"They've been here for two hours, and I am ready to work overtime to just gaze at him some more."
"Not with less than £300 in the register. Ask me again after the rush hour."
But the rush hour barely deserved that name. It was pouring outside, and nobody would walk through that just for a cup of coffee. By the time Martin could throw a closer look at the table, Tim was already packing up an honestly impressive amount of folders. The other guy seemed more familiar, a small, scrawny man who was still glaring at some papers as if they'd personally offended him.
Then Tim threw Martin a smile and Martin ran straight into a table. White, perfect teeth. How unfair.
"Look at that weather", Tim said good-naturedly.
Martin was quick to nod. "Do you guys need anything else?"
"What we need is a break." Tim stretched and Martin was occupied with watching the buttons on his shirts fight for their lives.
"I told you that the location wasn't the problem. There was no reason why we couldn't have stayed in the institute."
"Sometimes a change of scenery does help, Jon."
"Well, it didn't."
Jon, right. Martin remembered scribbling the name a couple of times on the to-go cup. Black coffee and a conversation that didn't contain more than hello, thank you and goodbye.
Now he closed several books with a satisfying thud and looked up to Martin. "But I wouldn't mind another coffee to go."
"You already had three! Jon, you will die of a heart attack."
"Shut up, Tim."
"Coming right up." Martin went back to his counter to get the coffee started and handed it over when they came to the front. He watched as they stepped out into the rain, huddled under a single umbrella, and then they were gone.
It didn't look like it would let up any time soon, so Hannah and Olivia went home, while Martin stayed behind. That was fine, he could handle the coffee shop by himself and had done so many times before. Sometimes he even preferred it, the quiet it would bring him, and considering the weather, he wasn't about to be interrupted.
He was just done with wiping down the surfaces, when he noticed the folder. It was stuck between the table Tim and Jon had been sitting at and the wall, and Martin pulled it out.
The Magnus Institute was written in the corner. Of course, Martin knew about the institute. Everyone living long enough in London probably knew about the beautiful, old building that was researching spooky stories of all things. It was something to laugh about, but Martin, who had scraped together enough cash to go on all kinds of ghost tours since living here, had always been fascinated by it.
Huh, he hadn't taken Tim to work there. Or Jon for that matter.
He brushed the spiderwebs from the manila folder before placing it behind the counter. If Jon walked in the next morning, Olivia could just hand it over. The more pressing matter was the cobwebs that had apparently gathered beneath the table. Martin was sure he had thoroughly dusted that area just a few days ago.
Once he was done, the folder was still there, and while Martin usually used the downtime to read or try himself on some poetry, today he couldn't focus. And it wasn't like he would hurt anyone, taking a peek inside. Surely they hadn't taken some super secret stuff into a coffee shop.
When Martin opened the folder, he expected a ghost story of some kind, a witness report, but what he found was the description of a creature.
The handwriting was neat and tiny, and the more Martin did read, the more he realized that he knew exactly what they were talking about. Something he had heard a long time ago, maybe even during his childhood.
He was so focused on remembering, that when the door to the coffee shop was thrown open, he actually shouted. A figure ran in, gasping and drudging in water and mud everywhere. They didn't even look at Martin, just stormed right towards the table, and only when they stepped beneath one of the hanging lamps, did Martin recognize them.
"Jon?"
Jon didn't listen. He was dripping rainwater from his chin and the bottom of his coat, his hair was plastered against his skull and he was mumbling to himself. Honestly, if Martin didn't know who he was, he would probably be concerned.
"Jon", he called again, his heart still thundering after the shock. "Are you looking for this?"
Like he was smelling the folder, Jon's head whipped around and once he found it, his shoulders dropped. "Oh, thank god."
"It must've fallen from the table. Figured it was important."
"I wouldn't have heard the end of it if something from the archives was lost." He took the folder in hand like it was a gift from the gods themselves. Once he had it, some of the manic energy fell from him. His eyes darted to Martin's name tag, then up to his face.
"Thank you, Martin. You're a lifesaver."
Oh.
Jon could've just confessed his love for him, by the way Martin blushed. He could feel the heat on his face, and if he stepped outside right now, he might actually start to steam. An embarrassing little squeak escaped his lips.
Now, he had noticed Jon before, and certainly not because of their heartfelt conversations. The morning commute was one of the busiest times in the coffee shop, but Jon always looked so professional and put together, it had been kinda intimidating.
Having his whole attention was too much, his gaze was surprisingly intense.
"You're welcome," he replied too late, and quickly let his gaze drop to the floor. The very messy, wet floor.
When Jon followed his line of sight, his face paled. "Good lord, I am so sorry!"
"It's fine-"
"No, really. Do you have a mop or something?"
"You're a customer here, I won't let you mop the floor!"
"It's clearly my fault!"
"How about you put up your coat by the door, so you don't make it worse?"
Jon looked down at the puddle that had started to form around him. Flustered was a very good look on him.
By the time Martin found a fresh towel, Jon had pulled himself on one of the bar stools lining the counter.
"Here, it's a bit small but at least clean. Why didn't you bring an umbrella with you?"
"When I noticed part of the case missing, I didn't really think to bring one? To imagine if Elias found out about that." Jon shivered, and Martin was pretty sure it wasn't because of the temperature. "We aren't supposed to take statements from the archives, but Tim insisted a change of scenery would help."
"You two work at the Magnus Institute, right?"
Jon threw him a sharp look like he expected Martin to ridicule him. When he noticed that Martin was mopping up the trail he left behind, he quickly schooled his expression.
"Yeah, down in the archives."
"That must be exciting! I'm sure you know all kinds of spooky stories."
Jon pulled a face. "Most of it is unfortunately a load of nonsense. Stories told by lonely people who are just looking for someone to talk to."
"Sounds not so different from my job," Martin remarked and actually startled a laugh out of Jon. What a nice sound.
"Unfortunately I have to act like I believe them and try looking for evidence. Like with this one here." Jon pointed to the folder in front of him. "I don't even know where to start."
"It's about Pająk Pół Kilo, isn't it?"
Jon stared at him, and Martin nearly let his mop fall. Right, he totally hadn't snooped around and read in some folder that hadn't been for his eyes.
"I- I am so sorry-"
"No, it's-"
"I've always been too curious and today has been so slow, and I swear, I only took a peak-"
"Wait." Jon glanced once more at his name tag. "Martin, wait. It's fine! What did you call it?"
"Oh, um... Pająk Pół Kilo? Just reminded me of that old tale." Jon's intense gaze made him feel small, and he busied himself with putting his mop away. "I mean, it's just a fairytale, right? Pretty sure my grandma used to tell me about it because I always brought spiders into the house-"
"Spiders?" Jon opened the folder, to look over the text again. "There is no mention of a spider here."
"Well no, but the scuttling noises in the attic, the strange liquid running down the walls, the symptoms of poison?"
Jon stared. And stared. Martin felt like a fly, pinned under his gaze, and he quickly stopped talking. He wasn't even sure if Jon was annoyed, angry or- curious?
No, that couldn't be, right?
He must've used the towel while Martin had been busy because his hair was dishevelled but dry. Still there was a single drop running down his neck, disappearing into his collar.
"I’ve never- excuse me, could you repeat that again. Pajak..?"
"Pająk Pół Kilo."
"Is that- It's not german, is it?"
"Polish. It's where my grandparents live, and they used to tell me all kinds of tales when I went to visit."
Which he hadn't done in years. His mother wasn't exactly on speaking terms with her parents, and Martin couldn't even imagine reaching out on his own. Not only would it be awkward after such a long time, but his mother would certainly see it as a betrayal.
“Polish”, Jon repeated slowly. “According to records it happened in Belarus, but that’s not too far from Poland, and considering it’s nearly 200 years old, I would have the maps of the time, to make sure, but it would be possible.” He stopped, his words trying to form around the foreign name when his eyes darted back to Martin.
“Could you write it down for me?”
“Yeah sure, but do you really think this has something to do with an old fairytale?”
“You’d be surprised how often statements come back to that.”
Martin hummed and wrote the name down on some napkin. For a second he nearly added his phone number like Olivia had suggested with Tim, but that would’ve been quite farfetched. This was… a business meeting. Kinda.
Martin had never been on one but still.
Also Jon still looked like a washed up cat. His coat might’ve protected him from the worst of the rain but his button down still clung to his narrow shoulders and he was starting to shake.
“How about a hot drink?”
Jon looked around like he’d forgotten he was in a coffee shop. “Oh right. Please.”
While Jon was busying himself with his phone, probably googling the Pająk Pół Kilo, Martin automatically moved to the coffee pot. But the day was winding down, and hadn’t Tim mentioned that Jon had already too many coffees?
“How do you take your tea?”, Martin asked instead.
“With a teabag.”
Martin stopped in his tracks. Was that meant to be sarcastic? But Jon was so focused, noting down things without even looking at him, that he just seemed absentminded.
So Martin prepared him a real good tea, with a dash of milk and maybe a bit more sugar than necessary. Considering how thin Jon was, he could use some.
“The religious aspect doesn’t fit”, Jon mumbled to himself, and Martin actually startled him once he put his cup down. “Can you tell me how you remember the story?”
“I mean, yeah? But like I said, it was a long time ago, so I’m not sure how accurate it is. My grandmother probably just wanted to keep me from bringing spiders into the house.”
“And she was right for it.”
“Oh come on, they’re cute! And quite beneficial to the environment, you know?”
Jon pulled a face, and Martin had to stifle a laugh. “You don’t like spiders?”
“Not particularly.”
“Well, that won’t change after this story.” He went through the familiar motions of preparing his own tea. “The story goes that a priest allowed a spider to live in the church’s attic, but unbeknownst to him, the spider continued to grow until it was a giant spider. That’s what Pająk Pół Kilo means; half kilogram spider.”
Jon actually shook himself, holding onto his mug like a lifeline.
“The spider would drool venom down the walls or through holes in the ceiling and poison the priest’s food and drink. That would go on for years, killing every priest that came into the church. By the time the village figured it out, they needed several men to kill and transport the body out of the church.”
“What an awful tale”, Jon mumbled. “The fact that it’s about a priest and happening in a church made me think of religion, but I guess that’s not necessary it? It’s about letting something into your house you shouldn’t have.”
“I guess so?” Martin said if only to say something. Jon was mostly talking to himself at this point, his gaze intense but focused on something in the distance.
“That would be reflected in the statement as well, even though the man didn’t talk about letting in spiders, but he mentioned a vagabond-”
The door to the coffee shop opened and made both of them jump. For a while they had been in their own world, filled with the sound of rain, the scent of tea, and low light.
Now reality crashed over them in the form of three young women, loudly chatting with each other.
Usually that would be good, they looked like the type to order one of these fancy drinks that Martin would never get for himself. That meant more money in the register and well, Martin was kinda good at making these drinks.
Right now he felt rather annoyed because it took time and even though it was his job, discussing ghost stories with Jon had been way more interesting.
“Looks like the rain is letting up”, Jon said once Martin was done with the orders.
“Not by a lot.”
But Jon was already looking for his wallet, and pulling out a £50 bill. Once Martin handed him the change, Jon moved the tip jar toward him and let all of it fall inside.
“Jon, no- That’s way too much!”
“You gave me the first solid lead I had in weeks. Our library is extensive but that’s no help if you don’t know what you’re looking for.” He smiled, and this time without looking at his name tag, he said, “Thank you, Martin. Truly.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Martin was stammering something that didn’t even make sense to his own ears, but Jon already pulled on his coat. With a little wave he stepped out into the rain, the folder pressed securely against his chest, and left Martin alone in his boring life.
On the other side of the road, a woman watched him. Martin’s eyes only found her for a second, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she wasn’t cold in her red cocktail dress.
But then the group of women were ready to order, and he forgot all about her.