Chapter Text
Finch was sure he'd told John once that Root was just as good at hacking people as she was at hacking computers. That had been several years ago now, and he was yet to be proven wrong.
Whether it be calling him Harry, casually intimidating Detective Fusco, or the way she teased John to the point of distraction, she certainly had a talent for it.
With Shaw however, Finch found she exceeded all expectations.
She had a particular skill for aggravating Shaw that she'd seemed to fine tune over the past few years. For a while Finch had been at a loss. For all of Shaw's behavioral quirks (at one point he may have considered them flaws but in the time he'd come to know her Finch had realized she was just as valuable an asset, and friend, as anyone else in his small group) she was not someone to be easily annoyed. Yes she had a temper, and a short one at that, but he found Root never quite made her angry. It was an impressive balancing act really, Roots uncanny ability to push Shaw yet never quite seeming to push her over the edge into outright rage.
He'd had his suspicions of course, as to why this might be, but it wasn't until one day months after Shaw had returned from Samaritans clutches, that he was able to put the pieces of the puzzle that was Root and Shaw's relationship into place - to see the wider picture so to speak.
"Finch," Shaw called out roughly, stalking across the cavernous floor of the station toward him, having just come in to help deal with the latest number.
"Ah, Ms Shaw, there you are. Our new number is -"
"How would you get a speck of dirt off your laptop screen?" Shaw cut in, completely disregarding whatever Finch was about to say.
Finch was caught off guard by this but he could tell from Shaw's unrelenting scowl that she expected an answer. "I suspect I'd wipe it with a cloth if it were just a speck?"
He could tell this wasn't the answer Shaw had necessarily wanted. "Okay, but if you saw someone else cleaning their laptop screen without a cloth what would you do?" She prompted then.
"Nothing I suppose," Finch shrugged, really more eager to get back to the new number.
"Thank you!" Shaw threw her hands up, obviously relieved by his statement.
"Everything alright Ms Shaw?" Finch rarely saw Shaw care this much about anything - except perhaps Bear, and food.
Shaw just shrugged. "Fine," she muttered, returning to her usual state of grumpy calm. "Now who's our new number?"
-.-.-.-
"Harry?" Finch startled only a little at Roots sudden presence by his side.
"Ms Groves." He looked away from his keyboard and up at her - met today with a curly blonde wig and a soccer jersey. "Dare I ask?"
Root shrugged and sat on the edge of his desk. "Coach has a thing for blondes," she explained, pulling the wig off to let her natural chestnut curls fall loose. "Not why I'm here though."
"Oh?" He really hoped she didn't require his help on another mission, trailing around after her really did take up a lot of his time.
"Have you been teaching Sameen incorrect methods for laptop screen care?" She asked casually, throwing the wig on the desk.
"Is this..." He paused, confused. "Is this in relation to my conversation with Ms Shaw this morning?"
"I don't know Harry... In that conversation did you tell her it was okay to wipe dirt off laptop screens with your bare hands?" Finch was starting to feel more and more like he was being interrogated.
"Well I..." Finch racked his brain trying to remember what he had said exactly - it'd been a long day. "I told her I wouldn't stop someone else doing it, if it were their laptop screen, though with my own I'd use a cloth."
Root just nodded. "I see." Then she stood suddenly and began walking away. "Thanks Harry."
-.-.-.-
"What the hell Finch?" Shaw stormed up to his desk.
"Excuse me Ms Shaw?" Finch could already tell what this was going to be about.
"Did you tell Root you didn't tell me it was okay to use my hands to clean a laptop screen?!" She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest and waited for his response.
Finch sighed, this was becoming ridiculous. "Ms Shaw I really don't want to-"
"Sameen, are you by any chance attempting to threaten Harry because he took my side?" Root's sing song voice echoed across the open subway floor.
"He didn't take your side," Shaw spat, turning on her heel to glare at Root.
"That's not what I remember happening." Root paused dramatically to think about it. "Nope, definitely not what happened."
"And since when are you always right?" Shaw sneered. Finch shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Root tapped the ear with the cochlear implant and smiled playfully. "Since always."
Shaw smirked back, much to Finch's surprise. "I think we both know that's not true."
Root's smile faltered only slightly. "That was different. No one should be able to eat eighteen deserts without vomiting."
Finch's eyes went wide and he turned to Shaw. She just shrugged. "They were small deserts."
"I won't press the matter further..." Finch assured, and Root took the opportunity to move the conversation back to the topic at hand.
"I'm still right about this though.." Shaw mumbled something incoherent that Finch didn't doubt for a second was a threat and Root's grin only grew. "If you wipe your screen with your hand it'll leave a -"
"Root if you lecture me one more time..." Shaw looked about ready to swing for Root all of a sudden and Finch pulled his chair in tighter to the desk just in case.
"Ms Groves, Ms Shaw if I may..." Finch cleared his throat reluctantly. "Is this really the time to be having this argument?" He motioned to the desk in front of him, littered in data and the photos of all recent numbers. "This is a place of work after all."
"I'm pretty sure it was Shaw that started it," Root (unnecessarily) reminded the room.
"It was my laptop and we were in my apartment," Shaw fired back without thinking. "Pretty sure you started it."
It was then that everything slotted into place for Finch.
"Well maybe if you'd just take my advice..."
"It's my laptop Root!"
The two were still arguing around him while he processed everything going on.
"And another thing-" Shaw began, though Finch beat her to the punch.
"Ms Shaw, Ms Groves if I may..." He looked between the two women, calculating his next sentence carefully. "This really isn't the time for a domestic argument."
Shaw's face turned to steel at his choice phrasing and Root... Well, Root looked positively delighted. Finch just turned back to his computer, waiting a second to be sure Shaw had been sufficiently shocked to silence before speaking again.
"Although I do find reaching a compromise can work in such a situation."
Shaw growled. "I'm going to kill you all." She turned on her heel and stalked towards the exit. "Slowly," she added over her shoulder, the word echoing in the cavernous space.
Root just smiled.