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Root disengages from her attack on Shaw’s neck – one that’s sure to leave a spectacular mark in the morning – to move down, and she pauses. A brief flicker of an expression across her face, the way her eyes unfocus briefly. She’s off her rhythm for a moment, then she starts working her way down Shaw’s body again.
Not that Shaw wants this to stop, but it’s clear to her what just happened. And Root has never just brushed it off like that.
“What was that?”
“It’s called biting, sweetie. You like it, remember?” Her voice has that fake tone to it and Shaw knows she’s caught her.
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t,” she says, feigning confusion. It’s a passable job, and would probably fool just about anyone else.
“I know what you look like when She’s talking to you, Root.”
Root sighs and pulls back ever so slightly. “She was… making a suggestion,” Root says, seeming unusually hesitant. “Something she thought you might like.”
Shaw rolls her eyes, because of course the damn AI has been watching her and thinks She knows how to get her off. Probably does know, really.
Root seems to take the eye roll the wrong way, pulling back a bit more. Shaw can’t believe she’s the one that’s going to be interrupting sex with talking, but –
“Hey,” she says softly, calling Root back to her. Once Root seems more present and engaged with her, Shaw pulls her closer physically. She cups her hand over Root’s right ear, then gently caresses the faint scar behind it. It’s a tender, intimate action. Something she’s only ever let Shaw do, and the meaning behind it isn’t lost on her. Shaw still thinks she needs to make this absolutely clear though.
She isn’t really sure how to say it. This has never come easily or naturally to her. But with Root, that doesn’t matter as much. Whenever she does want to say something, Root always listens, always takes the time to actually understand what Shaw’s telling her. So she starts at the first thing that comes to mind and goes from there.
“I know that She’s more than just your boss or your god or the voice in your head. I know She’s important to you, like I am. It’s like what you said – well, what She said for you – about shapes.” Shaw continues idly stroking Root’s scar as she speaks. Root eventually takes hold of Shaw’s wrist. Not stopping Shaw, but supporting her arm, and nuzzling against Shaw’s hand. “It’s something that makes you different. It’s a part of you, She’s a part of you. Do you understand?”
Root nods. She’s staring wide-eyed, directly at Shaw, apparently at a loss for words. The silence is brief. Before Root can collect herself to possibly say something, Shaw asks: “Well, what did She want you to do?”
This draws a smirk from Root. She leans down, slowly closing the space between them. Kisses Shaw on the lips, far more slowly and gently than usual for them.
“Hold on, darlin’,” she whispers in Shaw’s ear. “You’re about to find out.”
Later, while Root is catching her breath after Shaw showed her a few ideas of her own, Shaw wanders out into the kitchen. Mostly on autopilot, she puts some water on to boil. She quickly checks the door and their security systems while waiting. Then she’s back pouring the water into a couple mugs, and adding a bag of Root’s tea to each.
Then she makes her way across the darkened apartment by memory. Ending up in front of the expansive windows lining the south-facing wall. She perches on the arm of a chair Root put here specifically for this, after the third or fourth time catching her standing there looking out the window in the middle of the night.
It’s cooler next to the window, enough that her shorts and t-shirt are little uncomfortable. She takes the soft fleece blanket off the back of the chair – also left there by Root – and wraps it around herself.
This started as a habitual sort of security check Shaw makes whenever she’s restless or happens to wake in the night. Until one time she lingered a little longer than it took her to scan for threats. It’s not the best in the city, but being on the top floor and with the small park across the street, she has a decent view of the city lights.
Tonight though, they’re lost in a dull glow through the gently falling light snow. It blankets everything she can see. In a rare moment of peace and stillness in the usually busy city, it even lies still undisturbed in the empty street below.
Shaw’s attention is pulled away from the window quickly by the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hallway.
Root steps out into the main room and Shaw doesn’t even try to hide her smile.
She rubs her eyes blearily, briefly looking Shaw’s way. She’s wearing a pajama shirt, her underwear, and – Shaw can tell even in the dark because of the contrast – mismatched slippers. One white and sporting floppy bunny ears, the other brown and black with a dog face.
After a detour to grab the tea, Root joins Shaw. She hands one of the mugs to Shaw, then sits in the seat of the chair. Once she’s in place and all curled up, Shaw drops part of her blanket down for Root to cover up too.
They sit there in silence, looking out the window and sipping their tea. It’s late, and they’re both tired enough, but neither really wants to go back to bed yet.
Root sets her mug down, and Shaw senses she’s about to say something. “Are you sure?” she asks with a little tilt of her head to the right, making it clear to Shaw she’s referring to their earlier conversation about the Machine.
“Yeah Root, I’m sure,” Shaw says quietly, without hesitation.
Root waits quietly. Not putting any pressure on her, though Shaw can tell she’s hoping for more. She knows Root doesn’t doubt her, or really think she’s lying. She just wants to understand better.
Shaw still isn’t quite sure how to say it, so she takes action instead.
She tucks Root’s hair back behind her right ear, exposing her scar. She waits, until Root tilts her head a bit. Exposing it even more, giving Shaw permission and an invitation.
Shaw takes it, leaning down to tenderly kiss the scar once, twice. A pause, then one more quick peck before she pulls aways.
She doesn’t get far before Root pulls Shaw back. She lets herself fall into Root’s lap, lets Root guide her into a kiss. It’s slow and lazy, soft and sweet.
They carry on for a while, not really leading to anything in particular.
Eventually, Shaw ends up almost curled up in Root’s lap, her face half-buried between her neck and shoulder. She can’t quite tell for sure if Root is still awake, so she nips at her exposed collarbone. This gets Root’s attention, and elicits a little giggle.
“You’ve been with Her since before we really got to know each other,” Shaw says. “I knew what I was getting into. That She was always gonna be a part of this.” She plays with Root’s hair as she speaks. Threading her fingers through the soft, wavy strands, sliding down to the end, taking hold of some and spinning it around her pointer finger. “Don’t try to pretend She’s not. Especially not just for me. We don’t always agree, and somehow She makes you even more obnoxious. But,” Shaw freely admits, “it is kinda hot.”
“Mhhhmmmmmm,” is Root’s only reply. Shaw pulls back just enough to see the sleepy, content smile on her face. It’s enough confirmation to her that Root has heard and understood what she said.
She stands, even though Root feebly attempts to hold her in place and whines when she fails.
“C’mon. Let’s go back to bed before I have to carry you.”