note : hello hello everyone ! this is a brand new, shining & shimmering story for a fandom i adore ( but haven't delved in for years ) and a ship that snuck its way into my heart. please note that there will be liberties taken with regards to thalia's and reyna's respective characters, inclusive of their physical appearance ( very minor alterations because they're beautiful the way they are tbh ) and personal qualities, virtues and vices. note, though, that all of these have basis — whether pertinent to the story, or deduced from their background. you'll see what i mean.
another note : this is actually the first time i'll be writing a story for this pairing, and with this particular setting, so this first chapter ( or the first two, probably ) will be something of a test run to see if it's well - received! so please review — criticism or nah, just please please be kind! ( also, i'm rather unfamiliar with how the fbi works with cases, so i'm kind of just ... grasping at straws here oops )
FBI Director Chiron McGinty had seen better days — and had been in rooms with far less tension than this.
Two of his best agents, Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano and Thalia Grace, sat in the adjacent chairs before his table, and none of them looked particularly happy to be assigned to this case. A sigh left his chapped lips; weary fingers ran through his thinning hair. Technically speaking, they had no choice: the draft had been passed and approved, with their names written in clear print. Grace and Arellano were competent, well-rounded, and ... best suited for the job; there was never a tough call to make. Though perhaps, in hindsight, he should've expected that there would always be a tough call — and getting them to acclimate to the idea of this assignment would be it.
"Let me get this straight," Reyna began, a wince on the tale of her speech. (A poor choice of words, really.) "You need us to be ... lovers for this particular assignment?" Her lilt was low, barely hinted with incredulity. She was a pragmatic woman, after all, no such penchant for sporadic spurts of temperament that will hamper understanding.
Chiron merely nodded.
Thalia's eyes were bright, electrifying as she leaned forward and slid the folder across his table. "She's not my type." Reyna scoffed.
"Both of you," Chiron said, flattening palms atop his mahogany desk. He was all business now, no trace of the contemplative authority that endeared him to many of his agents. Not for the first time, both women were reminded as to why he was appointed director. "—Are acting like children, and I have no use for children in my office. You fail to see the importance of this mission. There is a serial rapist on the loose, hell-bent on targeting lesbians specifically — you're both key players to this game now, instrumental in solving this crisis. Are you telling me you can't handle this responsibility, and that your credibility as agents and team players are compromised?"
Thankfully, they looked properly chastised, mumbled apologies resonant within the room.
"Now," he continued, calmer this time, "you'd both need to look for a suitable residence around the San Francisco area, because that's where the incidents are centered around. Your backstories as individuals and as a couple are found in your respective folders, as well as everything you need to know about the case. You are expected to begin the ruse in two days, so I'd suggest house-hunting for now."
"No need for that," Thalia leaned back, a hand tousling her short hair. "I — uh, know of a place in the area that's available to us."
Chiron nodded, satisfied. "Very well, then. Both of you are dismissed."
Reyna stood, feeling somewhat queasy about her newest undercover conquest. She and Thalia had never gotten along, to say the least, their relationship having been muddled by circumstances beyond their control. To suddenly be working with her in close proximity and for a prolonged period of time? Not quite the bed of roses. (None of their cases were, really.)
A pale hand coiled around the doorknob, startling her from reverie. Dark eyes focused and met electric blues, glimmering with a sort of mischief that never spelled good news; Thalia opened the door and motioned for her to take her exit. "After you, baby," and a roguish wink in her direction sent Reyna rolling her eyes and out the door in seconds, whilst Thalia's tall frame followed suit.
The door shut, and FBI Director Chiron McGinty allowed himself to slump. Good gods, help them both.
"Thalia Grace?" Nico di Angelo almost choked on his coffee.
Reyna chucked a rolled-up tissue at her partner.
(Work partner — they weren't engaged in anything like that.)
But Nico wasn't done yet. "Are you even gay?"
She rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her own steaming cup of hot cocoa. Her sexuality was a perpetually hanging question in their department — hell, their office — and a favorite debate subject during breaks. Never had she introduced significant others, never had she given an inkling as to what her sexual preference was; at some point, the exasperation at hearing her coworkers' deductions turned into blatant amusement. It became some sort of running gag, over the years.
Thalia Grace, on the other hand, was very much open with her sexuality — out and very much proud, almost to the point of vainglory. Women flocked over the alluring combination of dark hair and blue eyes, and Thalia reveled in it. For all the tales of her promiscuity, however, Reyna had to grudgingly admire the sheer professionalism with which she worked, the clear line she drew between person and career. She supposed it was what made Thalia such a respected agent, relatively young though she was.
"You know the answer to that," she sighed, swiveling around to face her surrogate brother. He looked so young, too young to be involved in a world like theirs; perhaps they all were. But life was life, and it went on whether they wished it or not. Life was life, and it had its moments of sadistic tendencies. "I'm attracted to people, not genders. I don't know why the concept is so difficult to understand for others."
A wry smile crossed the man's face, hand descending to clap Reyna on the shoulder. "Well, either way — Thalia's gonna be a handful."
That, she could agree with.
"What are your backstories again?"
"I'm a student, last year in law school; Thalia's a musician, the almost famous kind. We met at one of her gigs last year, cemented a friendship, and ultimately began dating six months ago. It's pretty vague — but Chiron expects us to flesh it out as we go along."
Nico nodded, comprehension clear on his features. "It makes sense: you're 27, the average age of law school graduates, so it's not incongruous. Setting aside the fact that you do look like a law student, it also wouldn't hurt to give one of you a background in law, so you don't appear too suspicious with your attitudes and speech. Thalia — well, I didn't quite think that she'd be assigned as a musician in this one, but it's probably one of the most innocuous professions out there, further drawing less suspicion to you two."
Reyna's lips curled at the analysis, and she bumped her shoulder with his. "That's why Chiron's good at this; don't know why I doubted him in the first place." A lie: she knew exactly why.
"When are you leaving?" Nico queried, veiling concern and a gamut of other emotions under a mask of nonchalance. Reyna saw it for what it was — apprehension at the very forefront. For the duration of her undercover stint, he'd be assigned a new partner, or perhaps would be completing assignments alone. Either of the two options didn't seem savory to him, though the latter less than the former.
"When Thalia gets here." A sad smile played on her lips. She was really going to miss him.
His smile matched hers, and his eyes trailed a spot behind her. "Right now, then?"
Reyna turned her head, watched Thalia walk toward them with a confident gait. Thalia dressed the part of semi-famous artist: a leather bomber jacket, band shirt, ripped jeans and combat boots. She herself put together a most student-esque ensemble, coupling a checkered skirt with the famed collared-blouse-under-sweater number. She'd tied her hair into a loose ponytail, already deviating from her office persona.
"Di Angelo," Thalia greeted, easily slipping an arm around Reyna's shoulders.
"Grace." He turned to address Reyna once again, eyes sad with the promise of farewell. "I guess I'll see you when I see you."
She broke from the warmth of Thalia's hold and enveloped the younger into a heartfelt embrace — a rarity, given that Reyna wasn't the touchy kind, but circumstances like these did not call for professional aloofness. She was leaving behind her family, and it tugged at her heart a bit more than it should. "I'll call you, okay?" Her voice was thick with emotion, and Nico only nodded.
Thankfully, Thalia said nothing of it as she reclaimed Reyna's shoulders and led them to her awaiting car.
The house was huge.
Perhaps not mansion huge, not entirely, but a little too big for a meager two residents.
"How did you score this place?" Reyna's eyes were wide, jaw unhinged as she set her gaze at what probably cost a fortune.
Thalia was a little less awed, a little more embarrassed, and refused to meet Reyna's eyes when the other searched hers. "It belongs to my family." She winced at the acerbic taste it left on her tongue. Reyna looked wary, poised to ask more questions — but Thalia's unusual demeanor at the declaration told her it was a mystery better left as such.
"We should probably go inside," Thalia said, certainly an attempt to break the silence that descended. Long fingers twined with Reyna's, and with a tug to her hand, they were entering the threshold of their new life.
Oh, what joy.
"It's fully furnished, and when I checked yesterday the fridge was fully stocked, so I don't think we'd need for much while we're here — the usual groceries and cleaning would be up to us," Thalia continued, whilst Reyna's eyes roved.
The house was obviously modern, painted in whites and grays and blacks, with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. Wooden tiles comprised the flooring and modernist art lined the walls. A chandelier hung from the ceiling of the living room. Much of the seats were leather, much of the tables were glass. It wasn't filled to the brim with furniture, though — it had a minimalist charm that brought joy to Reyna's aesthetic sense. However, one thing was made glaringly clear by the pristine state of everything: it was just a house, not a home. There were no personal trinkets strewn about, no paraphernalia that claimed ownership. It was nothing but a building meant for show, and while it was a most appropriate setting given their current assignment, it inundated her with a kind of sadness. Who lived here? Who left it like this? What was its story?
Dark eyes chanced upon Thalia, already lounging on one of the couches. What was her story?
Reyna cleared her throat, gingerly settled beside her new 'lover', a respectable distance away. "We need to set ground rules."
A dark eyebrow rose. "Like what?"
She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, locked her fingers together in what she hoped was a businesslike manner. "Well — the usual, I guess. Hand holding and little bouts of affection for when we're out and playing our roles. No excessive PDA, though; that's unbecoming and I'm not entirely comfortable with it. When we're not expected to be in character, I expect full respect for each other's personal space. I know we're not ... the best of friends," Thalia snorted here, "but I do expect us to at least be civil toward each other. The case always comes first, and we're of no use to each other if we're dead."
Reyna exhaled, and opened her mouth to continue. "Moreover—"
The door bell rang.
Thalia's grin was wicked. "Show time, baby."
note: don't you just love undercover lover aus? review please !
