Chapter Text
Georgie Barker was proud of her podcast; each upload was proof that she had managed to be successful enough in a challenging, non-traditional field to actually make a living doing something she enjoyed. Sure, the show was a bit cheesy, but she made sure that every episode was perfectly researched, recorded with just the right intonations and filled with seamlessly incorporated sound effects. Currently, however, the last of those details was driving her up completely up the wall. In fact, after all of the hours she had spent working on editing this stupid episode, the knock at the door was a rather welcome excuse to take a break. Perhaps after she answered it she could make herself a cup of tea? A hot beverage and some cuddles from The Admiral just might be enough to sooth where she had begun fraying at the edges.
And so, Georgie was happy to set aside her laptop and amble over to her door. Or rather, she was until she looked through the peephole and saw her estranged ex-something standing on the other side. Suddenly, driving herself completely spare with uncompromising audio didn’t seem quite so bad. Regardless of the tension that had crept back into her face and the childish temptation to pretend she wasn’t home, she swung open the door ready to demand what he wanted in the most polite way she could. And really, any politeness at all could be an act worthy of sainthood with the levels of anger Georgie found present, because what the fuck, Jon? Years of nothing following their break-up, then he just shows up without even texting ahead?
Oh wow, what the fuck, Jon???
He was a complete mess. His hair was unkempt, with a weird length that indicated too long without a haircut, rather than intentional growing out; his clothes were rumpled, his face was a mosaic of stress lines and eyebags and scars, and- holy shit was that blood on his shoes? As Georgie looked Jon up and down, taking in each increasingly worrying detail, he shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting frantically and fingers tapping where his hand clutched too tightly on his cane.
“Can I come in?” Jon asked, in a tone that was far more serious than felt suitable for this absurd situation. Georgie wasn’t able to summon up any words quite eloquent enough to convey the patchwork of confusion-anger- concern that filled her, so she just stepped back, opening the door further to wave him in.
“Where have you been?”, “Why are you here?”, “What the fuck is going on?” and “Are you okay?" all wanted to work their way up her throat to spring from her tongue, but she caught the frantic questions before they had the chance to reach her vocal chords, and forced them down in favour of a far more neutral: “Would you like some tea?”.
If Jon could act like nothing was amiss, then she would too, until he finally got around to telling her what was happening. Georgie had spent enough time with Jon to know that he would let her know eventually. Probably. At the very least, she resolved to wait until he was comfortable before she started needling him about it, else he’d be far more likely to snap than to actually answer her questions.
“I- Yes. Tea would be lovely,” Jon replied evenly. Too evenly, Georgie noted. He was never that calm unless he was trying to keep his emotions tightly locked down- more than usual, that is. It was equally unnerving and reassuring to realize that despite the years of separation and all the obvious physical changes, this harried man in front of her was very much the same one who she adopted a cat, attended crappy university-band concerts and stayed up late watching every single Planet Earth with.
Clamping down on her curiosity, Georgie headed to the kitchen to start up the kettle and grab some cups. She didn’t have cinnamon tea that Jon had favoured before , but earl grey with too-much honey should be good enough. She hadn’t heard much movement behind her, and sure enough, when she turned to check, Jon was still standing just barely through the door, his overdeveloped sense of propriety seemingly the only thing keeping him standing stiffly instead of slumping over his cane as he stared longingly at where The Admiral lay on the couch.
“Sit,” Georgie prompted. “The Admiral has missed you, and you look dead on your feet.” Looking oddly guilty (for what? existing?), Jon moved to perch on the edge of the couch, still unwilling to make himself comfortable, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. The shifting of the cushions, however slight, stirred The Admiral, who lazily blinked his eyes open and slowly made his way over to headbutt Jon for cuddles. Georgie watched as her estranged friend tentatively stroked her cat’s fur and couldn't help but match his gentle smile with one of her own.
Jon made no attempts to speak as Georgie waited for the kettle to boil, and only broke the silence with a perfectly polite “Thank you”, as a steaming mug was set in front of him. When it became clear that he still wouldn’t begin to explain what was happening, even now that the two were seated together on the couch with their tea, Georgie began filling the silence with words of her own.
She didn’t speak of anything important, just let out a spew of normal, boring stories: complaints about how the couple across the hall kept leaving their stuff in the hallway, gossip from the barista at her usual coffee shop, small changes she’s been making to her usual recipes. Honestly, she wasn’t certain that Jon was processing very much at the moment, and certainly shouldn’t be pressured into trying to do so. The stiff formality of earlier had given away to a sort of anxiousness that had the capacity to become a full breakdown, and Georgie had no interest in finding out his current circumstances through hiccoughing, panicked breaths. So, she worked to distract him instead, continuing to babble about all the trivial little things she could, until they were both out of tea, and Jon was smiling a bit and adding in his own dry commentary to her tale of a rude mother she encountered at the supermarket.
(“I need a place to stay,” Jon finally says, and Georgie wants to hit her head against the table because she knows that there’s no universe where she could bring herself to say anything but yes.)