Title: In which a sale is made
Wordcount: 1044
Summary: The Jon never imagined Michael could turn on him, until it happened…
Based off of this picture.
While it was safe to say that it wasn’t the first time the Jon had been in a jewellers, it could be said that it was the first time he’d been in one as the thing on sale. He wasn’t sure if he liked the feeling. He stood awkwardly in the corner of the shop while Michael and the shopkeeper haggled in low tones, occasionally turning to glance at him. He made sure to smile each time, aware in some vague way that Michael wanted him on his best behaviour. After what seemed like an age Michael broke away from the huddle and walked over to the Jon, a wide smile on his face.
“So, I think I managed to get us a deal!” Michael said, putting an arm around the Jon’s shoulders. “He gets you, I get some cash, everyone walks away happy and I can go get my banjo re-stringed.”
Jon started to nod, Michael’s happiness almost infectious, before he realised himself and shook his head.
“Mikey, I- I don’t want to be sold!”
“What? Come on man, we talked about this! It’s for the good of the band,” replied Michael, his tone and expression making the Jon feel like he’d said the worst thing in the world.
“But, but! Mikey, you can’t-“ The Jon stopped short. He could feel himself slipping into one of his meltdowns, the kind that only came when he was completely overwhelmed and upset. Most of the time he just let it happen (after all, he usually had his brothers around to back him up) but now he made an effort to control himself. Nothing good would be gained today if he just let himself fall apart.
“-you can’t sell me,” he finished lamely, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.
Michael laughed and hugged the Jon closer to his side.
“‘Course I can! That’s what we’re here for, after all. Now come on, I just got to hand you over and then I can be off.” He began to lead Jon over to the counter and after the first few unresisting steps the Jon began to pull back.
“No no no nononono, Mikey please.”
Even though Michael was taller than the gold automaton, he still couldn’t move him when he didn’t want to be moved. Coming to a halt he sighed audibly and walked around to stand in front of Jon. With a renewed smile he put his hands on the Jon’s upper arms, the gesture meaning comfort but feeling more like a pair of vices to Jon’s panicked mind.
“Look, this has got to stop. You’re one hundred and sixteen years old, don’t you think it’s time you stopped acting like a little kid about everything?”
“But-“
“No buts. Listen to me, this is for the good of the band. Go on, say it,” Michael said firmly, still keeping his grip on Jon’s arms.
“Mikey-” Yet again the Jon was abruptly cut off, this time due to Michael roughly shaking him.
“Say it.”
“It-it-it’s for the good of-of the band!” Jon’s voice began to glitch as his already tenuous control began to give out. Michael’s smile turned grim.
“And again, please.”
“It-it’s for the good-d-d-d of the band Mikey please, please don’t-t-t-t do this-“
“Jon, stop it.” Michael’s voice was final and loud enough to cut through the Jon’s increasingly hysterical words. “I’m done humouring you. Get over to the counter, please. And-” he cut Jon off just as Jon opened his mouth, “-no more complaining. No more talking.”
The Jon nodded mutely, staring at Michael with wide eyes as oil began to track down his cheeks. Michael sighed roughly and fished in his pocket for a tissue.
“At least you’re not talking, christ…” He wiped the Jon’s face quickly and stepped away to one side.
“Go on, then.”
Jon nodded shakily and took the last few steps to the counter, where the shopkeeper stared at him critically.
“It looks rather worn, close up. Is this-“ he flapped his hand at the Jon’s face “-this leaking. Is this normal?” He turned to Michael, paying no more attention to Jon than he would any other item that passed his counter. Jon hunched his shoulders, wishing not for the first time that the Spine or Rabbit or Steve or anyone was here to help him.
“It’s just a temporary glitch,” said Michael smoothly “It should go away soon. Look, if you have to knock something off the price, that’s fine. I just want rid of it.”
The shopkeeper nodded slowly.
“Fine.” He turned and busied himself with the cash register, pulling out a wad of bills and peeling off a small clump. After a few moments of counting and re-counting he handed them to Michael.
“A pleasure doing business with you. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally have that thing off my hands.” His business concluded, Michael turned on his heel with a smile and left the shop without a backward glance.
Jon was left standing by the counter felling very small and very lost. The shopkeeper had since stopped paying him any attention and was preparing to shut up shop. Gathering all his courage, Jon found his voice.
“S-sir? What-what happens to me now?”
The shopkeeper jumped and turned to glare at the Jon.
“You keep your mouth shut. You’ll be sent off for scrap tomorrow, if everything works out. There’s no way I can sell you as you are.”
That was the last straw. The Jon began wailing in earnest, and as his cries mingled with the shouts of the shopkeeper he could swear he heard someone calling his name.
“-on. Jon!”
With an almighty jerk Jon surged up from stasis, latching onto the the closest thing to him. Michael made a startled noise before hugging the shivering bot back.
“Come on buddy, it’s okay. Whatever it was, it was just a nightmare, okay? What was it about? You wanna tell me?”
The Jon shook his head, burrowing closer to Michael. With a quiet sigh Michael sat back, resigning himself to a long night.
But that was fine. Whatever the nightmare had been about, the Jon need company and comfort and Michael was more than happy to provide it.
