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Fic - The Magnus Archives - Office Karaoke Party
Prompt: office karaoke party with the tma squad 👀 (jon has a surprisingly nice singing voice)
Fam, it's true, Jonny Sims does actually have a nice singing voice.
the hardest part of doing this was just wanting to thinking about the characters singing the songs. Tim's, Martin's, Sasha's, Jon's, and their Group Song, just cause. (also, i didn't write this in, but Tim and Sasha definitely sing this as a duet)
Jon looks from the microphone being offered to him, to Sasha, then back to the microphone. “What is this?”
“Karaoke.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“Alright, specifically, it’s a microphone.” She waggles it for good measure, as if trying to get a cat’s attention.
Tim pokes his head up from where he’s kneeling, fussing with something outside of Jon’s line of vision. “Give it up, Sasha, I told you he won’t join.”
She gets a look in her eye that Jon immediately distrusts. He tenses, preparing to stop whatever she’s planning. “He’s going to have to if I do…. This!”
Sasha lunges, and he reacts, but she snatches the tape recorder off his desk and shoves the mic into his hands to distract him. She dances out of the way in victory, holding it aloft over her head.
Jon flicks on the microphone. “Sasha, give that back,” he says into it, and Tim yelps in surprise as the machine in front of him booms with his voice.
“Come and get it!” she shouts, now safely across the office.
He sighs, and it echoes in a rush of static through the speakers. Resigned, Jon pushes himself to his feet, and, gripping the microphone to use in the trade, steps out of his office.
The door swings shut behind him. He freezes, then slowly turns as a key turns in a lock.
Martin scrambles back the moment he notices Jon’s attention on him. He smiles, apologetically, and makes a show of dropping the key into his pocket. “Oops,” he says, though doesn’t sound nearly as sorry as his expression tries to make Jon think he is.
Of course, the only thing he can think of is, “That door locks?” It would have saved him so many unnecessary interruptions if he had known that.
“Only on the outside.”
“That seems like a poor design,” Jon grumbles.
Tim comes over to give Martin a high five. “It’s to keep people from getting into sensitive information, not for the Archivist to create a locked room he can die in.” Martin shoots him a warning look, and Tim lifts his hands in defense. “We were all thinking it.”
Jon sighs again and taps the microphone against the palm of his hand. It makes a loud thok thok thok.
“Oh no!” Sasha says, still safely across the office, edging her way closer to the karaoke machine. “Guess you gotta stay.”
He frowns and considers.
“One song,” Martin offers.
Jon closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. “One song.”
“Can’t be the first one,” Tim amends, coming up and plucking the mic from Jon’s hand. “Or else this would all be for nothing.”
A snort of amused laughter escapes Jon. “I’m sorry, wait, did you think I was going to sing one song?”
“Everyone must.” Martin’s tone implies that he might also have been bullied into this, though obviously not with the same degree of effort that Jon needed.
“Everyone gets a solo, and then we should all have a group song,” Sasha volunteers, setting the tape recorder down on her desk and pulling out her phone. “I have the list of songs here. Tim, I already have your request. Martin and Jon, start thinking.”
Martin nudges Jon in the side and sits down on top of his desk. Jon’s lips twitch into a deeper frown, but he joins Martin — pushing aside statements and notepads to clear a space.
Tim coughs to clear his throat and says, low, into the mic, “Sasha, the music please.”
She taps at her screen a few times, and the small karaoke machine at Tim’s feet springs into life with a rainbow of colors and, up on the wall (Jon looks around for the hidden projector, wondering just how long that has been there) a black screen with “SOMEBODY TO LOVE - QUEEN” up on it.
Jon snorts on principle.
He wonders if Tim picked this song if only because of the extremely pointed look Tim gives him at the line “I work hard every day of my life”. But Sasha cheers wildly as Tim commences with an air-guitar solo, and even Martin is singing along sotto voce with the backing chorus.
Tim ends with a flourish, striking a pose, and both Sasha and Martin break into applause. He bows.
“Martin, you’re next!” Sasha chimes, and Tim holds out the microphone to him.
Martin hops off the edge of his desk, more out of shock than anything, and stares at it with wide eyes. “Me?”
“Yes, we’re making Jon suffer.” Tim presses the mic into Martin’s hands and hops up into his vacated spot next to Jon.
“I’m mentally making notes for your yearly review,” Jon mutters, and Tim gives him a cheeky grin.
Across the way, Martin and Sasha are having a muted conversation as she scrolls through her phone. He points, nods, and she lifts an eyebrow.
He blushes and goes to take his place.
Tim whistles appreciatively as “HOW FAR WE’VE COME - MATCHBOX 20” appears on the screen. “This will be good.”
The music starts, and Martin bounces in his spot in time, as if he can’t help it. Sasha joins in the bouncing, and Tim sways from side to side so he collides with Jon’s shoulder.
He starts on a stutter, more than a little shy, but gets more into it as the song goes on. The chorus comes, and Sasha and Tim shout “let’s see how far we’ve come!” along with him, and he loses the rhythm for a moment to laugh.
The songs ends with the three of them shouting (in varying pitches and tempos) “let’s see how far we’ve come!” and dissolving into cheers as the final guitar chord fades out.
“My turn!” Sasha hops up from her chair and trades her phone for the mic as Martin takes the empty seat.
Her choice is “CARRY ON - FUN.”, which he doesn’t recognize.
Tim, of course, does, and commences another round of swaying into Jon’s shoulder. Which he does through the entirety of Sasha’s song until Jon is forced practically sideways with one particularly forceful sway.
He rocks to the side, then back upright, and nudges Tim’s shoulder in retrobution as Sasha finishes her song. Tim gives an incredibly enthusiastic cheer to both parties.
“Thank you, thank you,” Sasha gives tiny bows to the room. “Jonathan Sims, please take the floor.”
Jon slowly, painfully, pushes himself off the desk and shuffles into the appointed spot. Sasha has to practically wrap his hands around the microphone as she passes it over.
“Song of choice, sir?”
He thinks about it, then pulls a Martin and whispers it to her.
Again, her response is a lifted eyebrow.
“What?!” Tim shouts from his perch on Martin’s desk. “What is it, I got to know.”
“Hold your horses,” Jon mutters.
Sasha, at least, doesn’t make much of a scene as she takes her phone back from Martin and types in his request. The two of them have a quick, whispered conversation, but Jon has to ignore it when the screen lights up with his choice. BORN TO RUN - BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN.
Hopefully he still remembers this well enough to not make a fool of himself anymore than he already will.
“Oh my God,” Tim says. “No way.” He grins and leans back on the desk. “You sure you got this, Boss?”
This makes Sasha and Martin laugh harder than it should, and Jon wonders if Tim did that on purpose.
Of course he only has time for a brief frown before the song starts.
Sasha practically swoons at the first note, which honestly is a bit overkill. Martin watches, wide-eyed and speechless. Tim loses his mind, shouting, “You can sing?!” over and over again, until Sasha eventually answers, “He can sing!”
Jon ends the song with a heavy breath, and turns back to the others. “The key to my office, please.”
Martin doesn’t move, still awe-struck by the performance.
Sasha jumps to her feet and throws an arm around Jon’s shoulder, and to his credit, he only stiffens a little at the touch. “Group song.”
“What?”
“We have to do a group song.” She’s already pulling something up on her phone.
“I thought you were joking.”
“Martin still has your key and won’t give it to you until after a group song. Isn’t that right, Martin?”
From his spot in Sasha’s chair, Martin jumps — coming back to himself at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry, what?”
Sasha gives him a look. “Just say yes.”
“Oh. Yes?”
“Martin—”
“Sorry—”
It is, of course, too late. Sasha puts on the song, and Tim comes up on his other side, successfully hemming Jon in between them. As the ‘group song’ starts up, the familiar sounds of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” fill the office and Martin comes to join them.
Sasha takes Jon’s hand that holds the mic and holds it collectively between them. He sighs, Sasha checks him with her hip, but still he manages to sing along (if only because the more he goes along, the more likely they’ll let him off the hook next time).
Fam, it's true, Jonny Sims does actually have a nice singing voice.
the hardest part of doing this was just wanting to thinking about the characters singing the songs. Tim's, Martin's, Sasha's, Jon's, and their Group Song, just cause. (also, i didn't write this in, but Tim and Sasha definitely sing this as a duet)
Jon looks from the microphone being offered to him, to Sasha, then back to the microphone. “What is this?”
“Karaoke.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“Alright, specifically, it’s a microphone.” She waggles it for good measure, as if trying to get a cat’s attention.
Tim pokes his head up from where he’s kneeling, fussing with something outside of Jon’s line of vision. “Give it up, Sasha, I told you he won’t join.”
She gets a look in her eye that Jon immediately distrusts. He tenses, preparing to stop whatever she’s planning. “He’s going to have to if I do…. This!”
Sasha lunges, and he reacts, but she snatches the tape recorder off his desk and shoves the mic into his hands to distract him. She dances out of the way in victory, holding it aloft over her head.
Jon flicks on the microphone. “Sasha, give that back,” he says into it, and Tim yelps in surprise as the machine in front of him booms with his voice.
“Come and get it!” she shouts, now safely across the office.
He sighs, and it echoes in a rush of static through the speakers. Resigned, Jon pushes himself to his feet, and, gripping the microphone to use in the trade, steps out of his office.
The door swings shut behind him. He freezes, then slowly turns as a key turns in a lock.
Martin scrambles back the moment he notices Jon’s attention on him. He smiles, apologetically, and makes a show of dropping the key into his pocket. “Oops,” he says, though doesn’t sound nearly as sorry as his expression tries to make Jon think he is.
Of course, the only thing he can think of is, “That door locks?” It would have saved him so many unnecessary interruptions if he had known that.
“Only on the outside.”
“That seems like a poor design,” Jon grumbles.
Tim comes over to give Martin a high five. “It’s to keep people from getting into sensitive information, not for the Archivist to create a locked room he can die in.” Martin shoots him a warning look, and Tim lifts his hands in defense. “We were all thinking it.”
Jon sighs again and taps the microphone against the palm of his hand. It makes a loud thok thok thok.
“Oh no!” Sasha says, still safely across the office, edging her way closer to the karaoke machine. “Guess you gotta stay.”
He frowns and considers.
“One song,” Martin offers.
Jon closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. “One song.”
“Can’t be the first one,” Tim amends, coming up and plucking the mic from Jon’s hand. “Or else this would all be for nothing.”
A snort of amused laughter escapes Jon. “I’m sorry, wait, did you think I was going to sing one song?”
“Everyone must.” Martin’s tone implies that he might also have been bullied into this, though obviously not with the same degree of effort that Jon needed.
“Everyone gets a solo, and then we should all have a group song,” Sasha volunteers, setting the tape recorder down on her desk and pulling out her phone. “I have the list of songs here. Tim, I already have your request. Martin and Jon, start thinking.”
Martin nudges Jon in the side and sits down on top of his desk. Jon’s lips twitch into a deeper frown, but he joins Martin — pushing aside statements and notepads to clear a space.
Tim coughs to clear his throat and says, low, into the mic, “Sasha, the music please.”
She taps at her screen a few times, and the small karaoke machine at Tim’s feet springs into life with a rainbow of colors and, up on the wall (Jon looks around for the hidden projector, wondering just how long that has been there) a black screen with “SOMEBODY TO LOVE - QUEEN” up on it.
Jon snorts on principle.
He wonders if Tim picked this song if only because of the extremely pointed look Tim gives him at the line “I work hard every day of my life”. But Sasha cheers wildly as Tim commences with an air-guitar solo, and even Martin is singing along sotto voce with the backing chorus.
Tim ends with a flourish, striking a pose, and both Sasha and Martin break into applause. He bows.
“Martin, you’re next!” Sasha chimes, and Tim holds out the microphone to him.
Martin hops off the edge of his desk, more out of shock than anything, and stares at it with wide eyes. “Me?”
“Yes, we’re making Jon suffer.” Tim presses the mic into Martin’s hands and hops up into his vacated spot next to Jon.
“I’m mentally making notes for your yearly review,” Jon mutters, and Tim gives him a cheeky grin.
Across the way, Martin and Sasha are having a muted conversation as she scrolls through her phone. He points, nods, and she lifts an eyebrow.
He blushes and goes to take his place.
Tim whistles appreciatively as “HOW FAR WE’VE COME - MATCHBOX 20” appears on the screen. “This will be good.”
The music starts, and Martin bounces in his spot in time, as if he can’t help it. Sasha joins in the bouncing, and Tim sways from side to side so he collides with Jon’s shoulder.
He starts on a stutter, more than a little shy, but gets more into it as the song goes on. The chorus comes, and Sasha and Tim shout “let’s see how far we’ve come!” along with him, and he loses the rhythm for a moment to laugh.
The songs ends with the three of them shouting (in varying pitches and tempos) “let’s see how far we’ve come!” and dissolving into cheers as the final guitar chord fades out.
“My turn!” Sasha hops up from her chair and trades her phone for the mic as Martin takes the empty seat.
Her choice is “CARRY ON - FUN.”, which he doesn’t recognize.
Tim, of course, does, and commences another round of swaying into Jon’s shoulder. Which he does through the entirety of Sasha’s song until Jon is forced practically sideways with one particularly forceful sway.
He rocks to the side, then back upright, and nudges Tim’s shoulder in retrobution as Sasha finishes her song. Tim gives an incredibly enthusiastic cheer to both parties.
“Thank you, thank you,” Sasha gives tiny bows to the room. “Jonathan Sims, please take the floor.”
Jon slowly, painfully, pushes himself off the desk and shuffles into the appointed spot. Sasha has to practically wrap his hands around the microphone as she passes it over.
“Song of choice, sir?”
He thinks about it, then pulls a Martin and whispers it to her.
Again, her response is a lifted eyebrow.
“What?!” Tim shouts from his perch on Martin’s desk. “What is it, I got to know.”
“Hold your horses,” Jon mutters.
Sasha, at least, doesn’t make much of a scene as she takes her phone back from Martin and types in his request. The two of them have a quick, whispered conversation, but Jon has to ignore it when the screen lights up with his choice. BORN TO RUN - BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN.
Hopefully he still remembers this well enough to not make a fool of himself anymore than he already will.
“Oh my God,” Tim says. “No way.” He grins and leans back on the desk. “You sure you got this, Boss?”
This makes Sasha and Martin laugh harder than it should, and Jon wonders if Tim did that on purpose.
Of course he only has time for a brief frown before the song starts.
Sasha practically swoons at the first note, which honestly is a bit overkill. Martin watches, wide-eyed and speechless. Tim loses his mind, shouting, “You can sing?!” over and over again, until Sasha eventually answers, “He can sing!”
Jon ends the song with a heavy breath, and turns back to the others. “The key to my office, please.”
Martin doesn’t move, still awe-struck by the performance.
Sasha jumps to her feet and throws an arm around Jon’s shoulder, and to his credit, he only stiffens a little at the touch. “Group song.”
“What?”
“We have to do a group song.” She’s already pulling something up on her phone.
“I thought you were joking.”
“Martin still has your key and won’t give it to you until after a group song. Isn’t that right, Martin?”
From his spot in Sasha’s chair, Martin jumps — coming back to himself at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry, what?”
Sasha gives him a look. “Just say yes.”
“Oh. Yes?”
“Martin—”
“Sorry—”
It is, of course, too late. Sasha puts on the song, and Tim comes up on his other side, successfully hemming Jon in between them. As the ‘group song’ starts up, the familiar sounds of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” fill the office and Martin comes to join them.
Sasha takes Jon’s hand that holds the mic and holds it collectively between them. He sighs, Sasha checks him with her hip, but still he manages to sing along (if only because the more he goes along, the more likely they’ll let him off the hook next time).