Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was nearly sunrise when the colony of Not!Bats returned to roost at the data center in a cacophony of tired squeaks and wing flaps. Unlike typical batlings, formed from bats who turned their love and close snuggles into precious little pups, these demonic entities were formed from a union between the Spiral and its absolute favorite thing in the world - AI. The Spiral (and other Fear entities, for that matter) loved AI because it was everything an Avatar could ever want. First, it caused stress to those trying to keep it away. Then it caused more stress upon being enacted, from noise stress (people with sensory sensitivities, infants, and those living with infants were the most delicious on this front), the misery that results from lack of sleep, and heat stress (which had a bit of a smoky flavor to the discerning Avatar palette). And then, of course, it caused the absolute loveliest stresses of all when people tried using the often fictitious information to accomplish tasks and failed miserably. Oh no, maybe you shouldn't have given that medication to your ailing grandmother. Whoops, somebody's going to fail that term paper worth fifty percent of their grade. That's not the way to fix that glitch through command prompt - it just completely wiped your computer. Oh well. The Spiral laughed and laughed as it soaked it all in. 

S̸̻̝̣̋̾̆q̷̦̥̮̓͋͘ű̶̢͔̲̫̗e̶͔̤͆̊͐ȧ̶͇͊́͘͝k̸̛̻̟̇͛s̵̺͔͚͔̽͌͝,the Not!Bat who had attacked both Jon and Martin, let out a yawn and nestled into his perch. Not!Bats slept much like regular bats, aka hanging upside down by their feet, and it would have been cute if not for the horrifying gremlin-like features. It had been another long night of terrorizing the populace and turning people into werebats. Ah, that glorious Fear! S̸̻̝̣̋̾̆q̷̦̥̮̓͋͘ű̶̢͔̲̫̗e̶͔̤͆̊͐ȧ̶͇͊́͘͝k̸̛̻̟̇͛s̵̺͔͚͔̽͌͝ let out a happy little trill, flapped his wings once, and closed his eyes for a satisfying slumber. 

…

Jon groaned as the high-pitched cries of first one and then, of course, the second of his and Martin's infant children began to emanate from the second bedroom that the two had converted into a nursery. “Not again!" He began to move the covers aside to go to them but Martin stopped him. 

"Hey, it's my turn. You try to get some rest.”

Jon tried to protest, "but they are probably hungry -”

Martin's voice was gentle. "And I'll bring them to you if they are, don't worry.” 

“Thank you, Martin." Jon gave him a grateful half-smile and pulled on his noise-cancelling headphones. “I really appreciate… you know… everything." 

“Of course." Martin returned a faint, somewhat sad, smile before turning back towards the doorway and heading towards their offspring. It was true that he and Jon had conceived twins but, alas, this was during one of the frequent times that the two had turned into bats. The two, as humans anyway, were not lovers (or semi-lovers, the ace spectrum version of the word Martin had coined as Jon was asexual) as Martin so desperately wished but platonic roommates. Close platonic roommates who snuggled and now shared a bed out of convenience and a shared love of said snuggles, but platonic none the same. Sometimes (okay, very frequently) Martin wondered if Jon would ever develop the same feelings for Martin as he felt for him but at least for now it seemed that was a no. 

Jon himself was unsure exactly of his feelings for Martin - he knew he cared for the man but things happened slowly for him and though the two of them now had twins the whole ordeal from conception to birth had occurred in the span of a month and a half. The snuggles hadn't even started until less than two months ago when Jon first became a were-bat and he'd admittedly been a little too focused on the whole supernatural were-bat and supernatural pregnancy aspects of it all to give much thought to his feelings for a certain Archival Assistant. And now…

Wahhhhhh, wahhhhhhh!

Wahhhhhhh!

Jon grimaced as Martin came into the room, a crying baby in each arm. “Here you go Jon, all yours. I think you're right - they both seem hungry." 

“Hand them over." Jon unbuttoned his shirt and settled into a comfortable position and Martin carefully laid the two down, he and Jon both gently guiding them to their food. The crying immediately ceased much to the two adults’ relief. 

Jon let out a yawn and rubbed some sleep from his eyes. “So." The two were still getting used to holding conversations while the infants fed but Jon found it made it less awkward so they tried. 

“I still can't get over the fact that we named them as bats." Martin gave Jon a slight, tired smile. 

“You know we didn't have to actually go with those names on the official birth certificates." Jon smiled back. They both knew they had to though, emotionally speaking. And both Fig and Cocoa were actual names for human children, if perhaps a tad bit unconventional, so there was no reason to rename them anyway. 

…

Elias let out a yawn as he looked down at the sticker chart on his desk.

Jonathan Sims, Archivist

Seven out of fourteen. His Archivist was halfway there. “Oh, Jonathan. I’m so proud of you!” He tapped the page. “When you and Martin come back from your joint paternity leave I’m going to be ready for you - I wonder if it’s about time for The End, hmm?” 

…

Sasha looked down the email. 

Sasha James, 

We are pleased to offer you the position of Archivist at The Wax Museum starting on March 15, 2016. 

Sincerely, 

Ms. Nikola-Orsinov

Yes! Finally my skills are recognized! Jon, Tim, and Martin were her friends (and her feelings on Tim were a bit more complicated) but it was time in her career for her to move on. Sorry creepy Archives with dead bodies in the hidden basement tunnels, the world’s finally coming up Sasha!

…

Daisy poured over the files on her desk, looking closely at the photos and tapes collected from the Magnus Institute basement next to Gertrude’s corpse. Hmm. It seems like Jonathan Sims is the most likely suspect but there’s no real proof… in fact there’s no proof at all that anybody even went into the Archives around the time Gertrude would have been murdered. I think I’ll need to send in Basira to see if she can get some more intel.

…

Tim typed and deleted the message on his phone. The past couple months had made him think about how short life was and, especially after the Not!Bat attack on the institute, he had determined he had to tell Sasha how he felt. No matter what. And if she rejects me, it’ll hurt but at least I’ll know. That’s got to be better than this simply not, right? I think I’ll tell her tomorrow.