Chapter Text
The elevator lets out a piercing ding, offensive to their ears at 8:00 am on a Monday. The doors slide open to reveal their office space: sleek chrome accents on inoffensive grey walls, the occasional heart or dove or love-related graffiti splashing across the grey, just in case they needed a reminder of their purpose. They push off the elevator wall, clinging to their obscenely giant vanilla latte, and slouch through the cubicle maze towards their office, tucked neatly in the far corner of the room.
A few heads pop up and greet them, some quietly, some enthusiastically, some with just a smirk and a nod. It’s not until they pass Jay’s office door that anyone dares to say anything. They hear Jay shuffling around in his space as they unlock their door and step into the cluttered chaos of their own office. They shove aside a pile of paperwork waiting hopefully for its day in the file drawer and put their coffee down carefully, then drop their bag on the desk. It’s too dark to see in the bag to find what they need; they glance up at the overhead lights, which are on… oh.
They shove their sunglasses up to rest in the tangled strands of pink hair on their head, then blink against the harsh glare that invades their eyeballs even as they grab their laptop out of the bag and let it drop gently onto the desk. They flip it open and let it boot up while they sip their latte and trail their eyes over the day’s tasks.
The hopeful files perch on the edge of the desk, waiting to be moved to their new home. There’s some final data from those that needs to be entered before they’re filed away, so that might be first on the to-do list. Nice and easy for a Monday, nothing strenuous, especially after the weekend they’d just had–
“Ahem.”
They glance up. Jay is standing in the doorway, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled up in an intentionally messy man-bun - unlike their own, which is currently hot pink, tangled, and messy because they couldn’t be bothered - wearing a faded Grateful Dead tshirt, baggy jeans slung low on his hips, and Birkenstock sandals on his feet. With socks.
He steps into their space, smirking. “You look like you had a good weekend.”
They glance down at their wrinkled, red satin minidress (emphasis on mini) and black, vegan leather moto jacket. They at least had the sense to swap out the stilettos for their favorite Sambas before they came to work - Louboutins are comfortable, as heels go, but they’re not stupid enough to want to wear them all day at work.
“Vegas,” they respond shortly.
Jay’s eyebrows rise. “When did you get back?”
They take a large drink of their coffee. “About two hours ago?”
“Fucking hell, Romy.” He whistles low under his breath. “No wonder you look like…”
They arch an eyebrow. “Like I’ve spent the weekend on a bender in Vegas?”
Jay grins. “You said it, not me.” He pushes off the doorframe and tosses a file onto their desk, then folds his lanky frame into the empty chair they keep available for just these types of visits. “Was it at least a successful weekend?”
They plop into the comfortable chair on their side of the desk - being a team co-lead has some perks, at least - and gesture to the pile of file folders clinging to the far corner of the desk. “Most of those are finished now, just need to do the data entry part. And the ones that aren’t officially finished at least have dates set, so…” they shrug and take another gulp of coffee.
“Holy shit,” Jay mutters.
They grab a fidget cube from their bowl of options on the desk and lean back, then kick their legs up to rest on the desk. “It’s Vegas, Jay. If soulmates are going to get their shit together anywhere, it’s in the city of sin, desperation, impulsive decisions, and true love.”
Jay rolls his eyes at them, but with his soft smile leans forward and delicately shoves the file folder towards them. “Well then,” he says, “now you have a new project.”
They sigh as they grab the folder, pulling it to their lap and flipping it open. They swing their foot idly to the rhythm from the club last night that still thumps through their brain as they page through the documents inside, reviewing their new job. As they read and sip coffee, their face softens, almost de-aging somehow. They shift in their chair and close their eyes for a long moment; the moto jacket and minidress disappear, replaced by cozy navy blue pajama pants and an oversized pink hoodie with a teddy bear embroidered on the chest. The hair stays a messy tangled bun, but it becomes less the remnants of a hangover, more the exhaustion of a secondary school student on the weekend.
Luckily, their office allows them to wear whatever they want. Their team might be the personifications of aspects of one of the most powerful forces in the universe, but that doesn’t mean they need to be in suits all the time, for fuck’s sake. It’s much easier to bring people together if they’re comfortable, not worried about whether or not their skirt is twisted or their necktie is choking them. It’s why Jay dresses like a hipster and Zulie’s arms are covered in bangles that clatter when she types and Bas wears that adorable cat-ear headband and Ish usually has a bottle of wine or five waiting in the bottom drawer of their desk. They each have their thing. Romy’s is understanding their charges and fitting in with them as best as possible so they can bring them together.
And in this case… comfortable is the name of the game.
They skim to the back of the file. It’s a pretty basic case, really, to the point where they don’t fully understand why it’s been given to them. One of the underlings could handle this, so why…?
They glance up at Jay. “Why me?”
Jay frowns, and Romy tosses the file carefully back in his direction. He takes it and starts to read.
“It’s a standard soulmate case, Jay. Why does it need me? Surely one of the others could handle it and free me up for the enemies-to-lovers types.”
Jay shrugs as he reads.
“And why did it come through you? This isn’t really your wheelhouse.”
Jay glances up, unoffended. Romy’s right, after all. He’s more of the universal “love everyone” and “found family” and “do unto others” kind of love. This kind of job - bringing romantic soulmates together - that’s firmly in Romy’s area.
“No idea. Maybe some of my expertise will be needed at some point?” He slides the folder back across the desk.
The coffee is getting colder; they tap the side of the cup and feel the heat as the liquid starts to warm back up. Another tap and it’s back to perfect.
“Maybe,” they agree. “I’ll do some digging and come up with a plan, but it looks pretty straightforward.”
Jay nods. “Keep me posted, you know I’m happy to help if I can.”
They smile, and for a moment the façade cracks. For all that Romy puts up a tough exterior and looks vaguely terrifying to their new recruits, they are the best in the business when it comes to bringing together soulmates, and everyone in the office knows there’s a gooey, marshmallowy filling underneath the steel. Love can be both sticky sweet and hair-raisingly terrifying, after all.
Jay taps the desk and excuses himself, leaving Romy to study the file again, puzzling out why this case was assigned to them.
Nicholas Luke Nelson (16; DOB 4th September) and Charles Francis Spring (14; DOB 27th April)
All they have to do is convince two teenage boys they’re Meant To Be Together.
How complicated could it be?