Work Text:
When a young Timothy Stoker envisioned himself in the future, he could firmly say that the Magnus Institute was the last place he ever thought he would be working at. He’d never shown much interest in ghost stories as a kid, never liked horror movies and Halloween was more a chance to dress up as his favorite Power Ranger or Pokemon. If he could pick a dream job it was also probably be as a Power Ranger or Pokemon.
It all changed with Danny, of course. His parents weren’t thrilled that he quit his job at the publishing house, but he hadn’t been able to focus on work like that when the thing that killed Danny was still out there.
He’d passed by the Institute a few times on his morning jogs, only knowing that it was a place where spooky things happened and everyone else avoided. A few quick Google searches told him more and he’d managed to get through the interview process without breaking a sweat.
Research was probably the biggest department in the Institute, leaving him with plenty of free time to look around without anyone questioning. His coworkers mostly ignored him and he liked it that way. For a time. At some point he could barely remember, it stopped being about finding the clowns or the circuses and more about attending office parties and cracking jokes to whoever would listen. Most of the time they didn’t and the laughs were scattered and mixed with groans. That didn’t bother him much.
He was sitting at his desk when he saw someone set down a hefty stack of boxes with knick knacks spilling out the side atop the desk across from him. She was pretty, in the kind of way that she’d be typecast as the nerdy girl in a high school movie who magically turned out gorgeous when she took her glasses off but was really pretty the whole time, hair reaching just down to the end of her back and wearing a well worn sweater that had likely seen better days and a skirt with tights underneath. Tim felt a faint flush spread over his face realizing how long he’d been staring at her just setting up her new desk without even giving a second glance to him. Eventually, she took her seat at her desk, looking up at him.
“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?” He grinned, leaning forward in his chair.
“How many other people have you used that line on?”"
“Well, I-- you’d be the first.”
“ Today , maybe.”
Ouch. Tim gave a nervous chuckle, falling back against his chair. She seemed pleased with herself, wearing a smug look.
Gathering up some of his composure with another wide grin, he held out his hand. “Tim Stoker. I see my reputation precedes me.”
“Sasha James, from Artifact Storage. And it hasn’t, I’m just here to do actual work, not make googly eyes at you.” She returned his grin with the same smugness, taking his hand lightly.
His free hand shot straight to his heart as though wounded. “You’re killing me.”
She made a finger gun with her free hand, making a shooting motion. “I think you have work to do too.”
Reluctantly, he let go, settling back into his papers, but it was hard to focus. When he glanced up from his work across to her, she was always typing. But he could feel her gaze on him occasionally while his head was down and it was all he could do not to return it.
“I think you’re going to end up liking me. A lot.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Stoker.”
Sasha proved to be more focused on the job than he ever was even at the beginning, despite his attempts to be as big of a distraction as possible. He’d steal things off her desk and hold them hostage in an exchange for some conversation or a scavenger hunt to find it. She only rolled her eyes when she was presented with her favorite snow globe encased in green jello and she didn’t even bat an eyelash when he’d covered every surface with sticky notes. It didn’t dissuade him though, he just took it as more of a challenge. They didn’t get a real chance to talk until the office holiday party.
“So, what are you hoping to find under the tree? Does it start with a ‘T’ and end with a ‘-im Stoker’” He slid next to her in her spot against the wall with cups of punch for both of them.
“I’m Jewish.”
“Well, I never said it had to be a Christmas tree, specifically. Could be any tree.” He took a long sip.
“I guess it could be. But I don’t think it involves anything starting with a T and definitely not anything ending in ‘-im Stoker’.”
“Harsh.”
He continued to take long sips, keeping his eyes focused on the other employees wandering around. They didn’t interest him nearly as much, as hard as he tried. She hadn’t moved from her spot though, still swaying slightly to the sounds of jingle bells and drums beside him. And he liked it even though usually the silence usually unnerved him.
“I think I’m going to go.” Sasha piped up eventually.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
She rolled her eyes, but that wasn’t a no so he followed her through the door. He would have gone out without saying anything, but he almost hit the top of his head on the little green leafy plant dangling from the doorway. His eyes lit up, moving to tap her excitedly.
“Real funny, Stoker.”
“You know what would be even funnier?”
He definitely planned to follow that up with some other witty retort when she yanked him down by the front of his shirt and placed a quick kiss onto his stubbly cheek. It only lasted a few seconds and no one seemed to notice except them, but by the time she had pulled away and went back to walking to the foyer, he was in a daze. By the time, he’d pulled away, she was by the door waiting for him.
“Are you coming?” Sasha tipped her head, holding up her keys.
Tim nodded, feeling the heat on his face as he followed after.
After the party, he didn’t see her for quite some time. As per usual, his winter vacation was spent out in the mountains, hiking and kayaking to his heart’s content. Occasionally, when he was standing on the edge of a cliff or floating along a gentle part of the river, his thoughts drifted to her and what she could be doing with her time. When he got back, he got his answer in the form of her setting a polaroid on her desk besides a tiny bisexual pride flag she had propped up. After doing his usual walk past her desk as he did every once in awhile, he saw it was her making a three-eyed snowman out of the snow that had fallen on her flat balcony.
He’d been telling a long joke to a few of his coworkers while leaning against his desk when he first heard her laugh. The blank stares he got from them when he finally reached the punchline was something new, but in the awkward silence to follow burst the most glorious sound he’d ever heard.
Sasha’s laugh was loud and abrupt enough to almost make him jump up from his spot, but once he heard it, a grin crossed his lips. The others turned to look as well and she immediately straightened back up.
“Sorry, I just… I got it. The joke.” He’d never seen her look so embarrassed, but it stirred something in his chest.
“Thanks, Sash.” Tim gave a quiet chuckle.
“Sasha to you, Stoker.”
“Of course.”
They went on back and forth like that for the following months and months. They talked more and he found out how she hated roller coasters and he loved roller coasters and that she hated horror movies and how he… well, he also hated horror movies, so they had that in common. She invited him to her flat to watch a few movies as long as he promised to not make fun of her pajamas, which were lovely and reminded him a little of something a grandmother would wear in the best way possible, and he brought his own patterned pajamas that were goofy enough that she could laugh a little at him too. They’d lay on her bed with a bowl of popcorn with him nestled comfortably in between a teddy bear and a crocheted throw pillow. When his gaming computer threatened to kick the bucket, she’d come over to help into the night with nothing but coffee and his praise of her genius as payment. It was close and comfortable. It reminded him of the kind of things he used to do with Danny. He never mentioned him to her.
The archives had never really interested Tim and he was content to ignore all the strange and spooky things that seemed to go on within it or how all the assistants began to drop like flies. How much trouble could a bunch of people filing papers get into? Once or twice, he’d seen Sasha talking to Gertrude, the head archivist and an older woman who always seemed to have a stern glare for him, while she was on her smoke break, but he never pressed for details
When Elias Bouchard called him into his office to discuss transferring into the archives, it didn’t make any sense to Tim. While he did have some experience in publishing, it made more sense for him to continue working in Research. But by the end of the meeting, as little as Tim actually remembered the details other than that he made a very convincing argument.
It would mean seeing Sasha less, which sucked, but he would try and make it work. He promised himself that much.
With a stack of boxes in hand, he set them down on his new desk before glancing to see his new deskmate. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be a complete buzzkill.
“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”
Sasha sat at the desk across from him, looking like the cat that got the canary. He managed to close his mouth, unable to resist the grin that followed.
“You’re good.” Tim plopped into his chair, already propping his feet up on the desk.
“I try. I look forward to working with you, Tim.”
“Back at you, Sasha.”