Chapter Text
Trinity thinks this is fragile.
She thinks maybe a tiny noise and it all shatters. Most things she touches, she’s come to understand, usually do. They crash and burn. And she watches it burn because she’s guilty. She touched it after all. She chose to touch it knowing exactly the path of destruction that would follow. Because that’s always been the thing about Trinity, she just aches. She wants too much. She wants everything. She’s greedy. She knows she doesn’t deserve good things. Because she’ll fuck it up.
The street lights stream through the curtains of Garcia- Yolanda’s apartment. Fuck. She needs to get a grip. She needs to get the hell out of the bedroom before she wakes Yolanda with her damned spiral.
4:37 AM
Of course Garcia would be one of those people with a digital clock. Being in her home will lead to her reaching a peak of insanity if she lets herself spiral about the fact that this happened. Which she’s doing. She’s spiralling. Garcia’s arm is thrown lazily around her waist and she’s trying her best to move it.
Trinity is an idiot.
There’s really no explanation.
She manages to get out of the bed. No clue where her clothes are. She thinks they discarded them somewhere in the kitchen where Yolanda’s pretty mouth kissed her way down Trinity’s stomach and then had fully worshipped her-
Focus.
She tiptoes out of the bedroom.
There’s pictures on the walls, the hall leading to the living room. She’d been too preoccupied last night to notice.
But she is standing naked staring at what she assumes is Yolanda’s entire family on the photographs on the wall. She silently catalogues information for later. For…she doesn’t even know.
She needs to stop thinking. Throw her brain out. Knock her out. Something.
She keeps walking to the kitchen when she almost trips up.
“Hi.” She tries, whispers.
That’s definitely a cat. How did she not notice Yolanda had a cat.
“Sorry about this.” She gestures to herself. Not the greatest way to meet your…well whatever this is’s cat. Seriously, someone kill her.
She decides maybe searching for clothes might be the next step. Things are kind of scattered when she gets to the kitchen/living room, the open space really was wonderful last night. She manages to find her things after a couple of minutes.
Should she leave?
To think she’d initiated this whole thing only to be freaking out in the middle of the night is typical. They’d been tip toeing around the tension for weeks. Flirting on the job. Texting here and there because Garcia handed her number because of a patient status (unnecessary). And Garcia is infuriatingly good at teasing her and maybe she started getting a little flustered, so she needed to take control. That’s how it’s always worked. Alone with Garcia in an elevator.
Just a proposition.
“I imagine you have pretty good hands.”
Yolanda had stared at her with curiosity laced with something else.
“It does come with the job.”
“Is that all they’re for?” She’d stepped closer, too close, could feel her.
Yolanda had laughed. Not mockingly. Not even teasingly. She genuinely laughed, soft, airy, cheeks a little flushed.
“You know, you could’ve just saved us the trouble and taken me up on that cocktail.” And then she’d tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
And Trinity had taken control.
Her bravery had now blown over giving way to the spiral of thought of how dumb she actually is. Because Garcia makes her a little weak.
The sex was…Garcia’s fingers. And her mouth. And that fucking cocky smirk on her face.
So she doesn’t know if she can rule out the one time thing, blowing off steam option on how to proceed with this. That had been her plan. Get it off her system to get her brain to function.
But Trinity Santos is ruined. She feels hungry. Not satiated. She feels like she might break if she doesn’t have her again.
“You trying to escape?”
She’s startled by Yolanda’s voice. So she turns.
Yeah, Trinity’s screwed. Yolanda with her hair down is a sight that she can’t really quite forget. Actually, Yolanda in a t-shirt, bare legs, hair down has changed her entire being.
Man, she loves women.
“You do know I have lights in my house right?” She’s teasing her, a hand reaching for the really pretty lamp next to her.
“You have a cat?”
“You didn’t notice the gigantic cat tree in the living room?” Her hand gestures vaguely to her left. And sure enough, yeah, there’s a cat tree.
“To be fair, I was rather preoccupied to really notice the decor.”
There’s a glint in Yolanda’s eyes, amused. “Didn’t answer my question, Trinity.”
Trinity gulps. “Nope, just wanted water.” She smiles. “Or I guess, seeing as we’re both awake…” She walks purposefully towards her.
“Oh?”
Her hand reaches Yolanda’s wrist, and then trails up her arm to her shoulder as she speaks. “No work tomorrow so no harm, no foul, right?” Her arms wrap around Yolanda’s neck. Swiftly, Yolanda picks her up, Trinity’s legs wrapping around her. “Really unclear on consent here.” With a squeeze to her ass, Yolanda chuckles before slamming her lips against hers. She’s hungry, sloppily devouring her mouth like she needs it to survive. Trinity feels her carry her across the hallway into the bedroom, impressively keeping her mouth on hers.
“Cleared that up, baby?” She breathes out against her lips when she lays Trinity down on the bed.
Baby. Baby.
“Might need you to clarify it one more time.” Trinity pulls her down again.
“Wanna sit on my face?”
This is a trap. There’s no escaping.
•
“Fuck me, Huckleberry, please tell me you at least showered this weekend.” Trinity’s bag is discarded by the entrance as she moves further into the apartment.
Dennis looks up from his book to roll his eyes. Aw, she’s rubbing off on him. Attitude king.
She grins as she plops down the couch beside him, kicking off her shoes. “Wanna watch something?”
“You’ve been out since Friday.”
Yeah, it was a two night fuck fest offer at Yolanda Garcia’s apartment, didn’t you hear?
“Yep.” She hums simply before reaching for the remote.
“Okay?” Dennis puts the book down. “Is that a hickey?”
She keeps her cool. “Geez, I’m an adult who fucks, someone arrest me.” Then she looks at him, his face drops a little. “You good?”
He clears his throat, shifts his position on the couch. “I got a little worried when you didn’t answer my texts.” Then he blushes a little. “Not that you like have to let me know or whatever, I guess, I just-”
“Aw, Huckleberry, you care about me?” There’s something fuzzy in her chest, she needs Dennis to make a joke or she will seriously combust. Fuck she hates this. She’s not used to whatever the hell this is. No one’s ever particularly cared if she came home or kept tabs.
“I do.” Dennis answers without a beat. Face all serious. She did not have this on her bingo card. There’s a beat of silence where Trinity gapes at him a little but he’s unmoving. “Could you, um…just text if you’re not gonna be here, just to let me know you’re safe?”
She stares dumbly before her brain restarts. “I, uh, yeah, Dennis. I will, sure.”
Then he smiles awkwardly. Thank fuck she’s not the only one. “Good.”
“Cool.” She salutes. Then she grins, turns to joke about it. “Does that mean we’re bonded?”
Dennis snorts. “Yeah, like stray cats.”
“Nah, you’re the stray cat. I’m the cat with a home.” She shrugs, grinning. They pick some dumb reality show to watch and then agree on ordering pizza. It’s about halfway through an episode when her phone vibrates. She fishes it out of her pocket and yeah, maybe her heart speaks a beat when she realizes it’s Garcia.
We should do it again. I had fun x
“So is it like serious or just…?” Dennis asks.
Trinity inhales. “Probably not, but no biggie.” Someone kill her.
“Oh ok.” He frowns. “Did you have a good time?”
Trinity huffs out a laugh. “Maybe too good. But I’ll figure it out.”
They spend the rest of the day rotting on the couch. And Trinity will never admit that it’s nice. It’s really nice to have someone around. To not come home to an empty apartment. She’s never had a home, not really. Coming home was always more stressful than relaxing and for the first time maybe ever, it’s become a good thing. To kick her shoes off and maybe cook dinner, maybe watch shitty TV. Do whatever she wants. No constant state of anxiety.
And lately, a few months into the roommate chapter of her life, it’s become increasingly clear that farm boy is a genuinely good dude. And she thinks, maybe a friend. A real one.
Dennis likes cooking. And baking. And he cleans. He also likes to do weird puzzles which he’s roped her into when their off days match. He likes to rope her into his things. And he’s very good at reading when she doesn’t want to talk. Like he constantly catalogues things so he knows where to stand with her.
Trinity isn’t used to that. People taking the time. It’ll probably go wrong. Usually does.
When Trinity looks at Dennis, the episode ending and the hours passing by, he’s fast asleep, leaning awkwardly on a pillow. She finds herself taking a picture because he looks dumb as hell and she needs to make fun of him later. He might be drooling actually. Dumbass. She might send this to Samira. Or just threaten him with it sometime.
“Hey, Dennis.” She shakes him. “Time for bed, dude.”
His eyes open slowly. “What?”
“You fell asleep on the couch. I’ve now got the best bribe pic to add to the folder.”
He groans. “I hate you.”
Garcia’s text remains unanswered. And Trinity is unsure of how to respond because agreeing to continuing their tryst may truly just unbalance her whole system.
•
It’s three months later and Trinity is still holding her breath.
Garcia had more so trapped her by the lockers with that teasing smile, all the while Trinity just kept picturing her with her hair down as she was asking you ever gonna text me back, Santos?
And sure, it had been a couple of days since Trinity had communicated in any way other than trauma related information in trauma rooms. And she hadn’t missed that Garcia’s hand sometimes touched her hip when passing by her, very purposefully. How close she got. Because Trinity had become attuned in the days before to all things Yolanda Garcia. As if she could sense her close by. As if her body physically needed her near after having her for those two blissful days.
So now she had rules for herself. No staying over at Garcia’s. No pillow talk. No getting attached. (Shut up.)
Especially that last one.
But Garcia is eating her out against her apartment door. And Trinity has all these images permanently imprinted in her memory of every surface in the apartment they’ve explored in the last three months.
“Jesus, fuck. Oh my god.” She moans.
Garcia looks up at her, as Trinity’s fingers thread her hair. She laughs, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure across her body.
“Fuck, Yo…” Her eyes shut closed, head falling back against the door.
“You look so pretty like this, Trin. So wet for me.”
“Yolanda.” Trinity all but whines as she looks up at her, smirk on her stained up lips. “Please.”
“I wanna fuck you in my bed.” She comes up to her feet, lips searching hers. Trinity can taste herself on her lips, hands gripping her hair. Nothing could ever come close to this.
She’s on the bed, as Garcia kisses her neck, tongue dancing across her skin as precise as she is in a OR. She knows exactly what to do. Has learnt it so well. They both have.
When Garcia’s tongue flickers her nipple, the wetness between her legs becomes a desperate hum, as she’s heaving, gripping her shoulders.
“Beautiful.” Yolanda whisper, looking up at her as she traces kisses down her stomach. Her hands trace down her hips, then her legs and she kisses her hip bone and then her thigh.
Her thigh.
The scars on her legs are mostly faded now. She hasn’t had the urge in a while. Only on the anniversary. But there’s no need to go there.
Their first time, they’d both been a little tipsy and the lights were dimmed and Garcia hadn’t noticed. But then morning came and her lips trailed down again, this time stopping. She hadn’t said anything then, pressed a kiss to her scarred skin and then abandoned it. Trinity had felt the need to say I don’t do it anymore.
It’s ok. She’d said and then went up to kiss her lips. Nothing else was said. And it’d been that way for three months.
But tonight, Yolanda kisses her scars with a tenderness that makes her want to cry. It feels like too much. Or maybe Trinity is too stimulated. Maybe because the date is getting closer and like an old ache from a broken bone, she’s feeling the seasons change.
“Please don’t.” She finds herself saying. So quiet. A whisper.
And Yolanda freezes.
Trinity’s hand grips hers for a moment. “Sorry.” She says.
But now it feels like the mood is ruined. Yolanda has that hardened look in her eyes. Not pity. Just tense, maybe. Trinity hasn’t gotten good enough at reading her. She can’t tell as Yolanda moves up, placing a hand on Trinity’s cheek. It feels tender. Sweet.
“Is it always uncomfortable?”
“What?”
“When I kiss you there? When I…have you been feeling-”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No.”
“You can tell me if you-”
“I do. I will. I’m not-” Her throat closes up and Yolanda is so impossibly close. And Trinity has never noticed how brown her eyes are. The sun is still out and the window that shone the city lights so many nights before is still holding the sunset.
Fuck, she can’t cry.
Trinity pushes Yolanda easily off her body and starts picking up her clothes. “I’m gonna go now.” She manages to say before bolting out of the room.
“Trin-”
The rest of her clothes sit by the apartment door and as she puts the shirt over her head, she can hear Yolanda’s footsteps behind her. And the cat (Hades, because Yolanda had a Greek mythology phase, a fact she knows, memorized) sits there by the door as well.
“You don’t have to go.”
Her breathing is heavier now. She can feel the panic in her chest, it starts to hurt to breathe. Like the air isn’t enough.
“Trin-”
“Please don’t touch me.”
Her vision is a little blurry now.
Fuck. No. No. Not now.
Every sound is far away now. Muffled. Her own body feels like it’s after her. It hurts. Her chest. Her throat. She needs to get the fuck out of here.
I’m dying.
Her heart hurts. Like a heart attack. She needs to escape but she’s stuck to the ground. Her breathing erratic. And as through someone is stomping on her chest, the world spinning on its axis.
She doesn’t know how long it goes on for, but she’s on the ground when finally the world seems to return to her. Garcia is sat by her, quiet. She’d heard her voice, it felt soothing the way she spoke though she hadn’t managed to get over the ringing in her ears.
But her hand is gripping hers. Fingers interlaced.
And then the shame.
She stands up, lets go of her hand.
She feels exhausted. But she can’t stay.
“Fuck, this is embarrassing.” She clears her throat, wipes her tear stained cheeks.
“Trinity.” Yolanda frowns. “It’s ok.”
“It’s not. But thanks. I’m gonna-” She opens the door as fast as she can.
“I can drive you.”
“No.” Her voice comes out all hoarse. And then she’s out of the door. Not even bothering to go for the elevator, taking the fast exit away from Yolanda.
•
Top 5 most embarrassing moments of her goddamned life, surely. None of that was supposed to happen. Trinity meant for the complicated parts of herself to stay out her thing with Yolanda. Her very complicated, flawed existence being acknowledged and that meant being known by someone. She hates it. Hates every part of it. That kind of vulnerability wasn’t meant for a woman she was simply sleeping with. And the tenderness she sometimes held her with was starting to make Trinity want to bolt. It started to claw at her throat.
She closes her door as quickly as she can, bursting inside, dropping her stuff by the door before making her way to her bedroom.
She can hear the TV on. Dennis is probably on the couch, relaxing after his shift. But she can’t really deal with that right now. She can’t really deal with that look in his eyes as though he really sees her.
So she ignores it , neglects looking at the living room before almost running to her bedroom. She hears a lost Trinity as she passes by but she’s a woman on a mission.
Her bedroom door shuts closed. And she drops to her bed.
A knock sounds out.
“Trinity? Are you ok?” His voice is soft. Kind.
She squeezes her eyes shut at the warmth that travels through the door. She wants to let it in desperately. But Trinity can’t. Or she shouldn’t. Because none of these good things will last. Because, undoubtedly, things with Yolanda are fucked now because she’s seen her break. And Dennis will soon figure out that she’s too fucked up to live with.
She’s been so good. Kept everything under control. Only to have a panic attack at Yolanda Garcia’s apartment.
“Look, I…uh, baked.”
Fuck, such a huckleberry.
“So, if you want, there’s blueberry muffins in the kitchen. My mom sent the recipe.”
She doesn’t notice the sobs that wrack her body until they spill out violently.
“Trinity, I’m, uh, I’m kind of panicking a little here so I’m gonna go in, okay? I’m sorry, you can hate me after but I really need to see you.”
She vaguely registers the door opening and then she can smell his little too intense perfume right in front of her. She’d given him so much shit for it. His eyes stare at her, all worried. And she can’t bring herself to push him away, can’t bring herself to be angry.
And joining the list of embarrassing moments today, she reaches out for him, burying her face in his shoulder. Dennis doesn’t hesitate, maneuvers them so he can hold her properly, leaning back against the headboard, as she sobs against him.
It takes her a long time to really stop crying. But gradually, the painful sobs turn into whimpers and then occasional sniffles. Dennis rubs her back. Doesn’t say anything.
“Sorry.” She whispers. It’s dark out now. It’s easier to speak.
“What am I if not a great shoulder to cry on?” He says weakly, but he sounds a little nervous. “Trin…did someone hurt you?”
Not today.
“No.” She says.
“Did Garcia do something? She might get me fired but I can totally key her car.”
“Garcia? How do you-?” She pushes herself off him so she can look at him.
He tilts his head. “You’re not that subtle.” He smiles softly. “You also text her. Sorry. I saw it accidentally.”
“Damn.” Trinity frowns.
“But is it…”
“It wasn’t her fault.” She says.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly. She shakes her head. “Okay, well, I was serious about those muffins.”
“Sure, Huckleberry.”
“Unbelievable. Here I am holding you as you’re crying only to be bullied afterwards.”
“I’ve got to keep you guessing. The thrill of the element of surprise.”
•
For a few days, Trinity manages to ignore Yolanda’s attempts at what she assumed would be a conversation ending whatever they’re doing. They’d crossed paths in the Pitt. Some cases. But every text Yolanda sent, Trinity left unanswered. Every phone call, rejected.
She knows she’s being a coward but really maybe it’s better for them to fade into oblivion rather than hearing Yolanda call it off. It’d been embarrassing enough. She thinks she can picture Hey, it was great. But I think we should stop seeing each other. It might make her feel better to imagine It feels like you have too much baggage and it’s probably I just steer clear of you. Imagining Yolanda cold and cruel is better than remembering the sweetness of her lips as she kissed her scars.
And then she’s taking her shit out of her locker and Yolanda is there, blocking the door.
“Fuck.” She breathes out.
She looks a little pissed, honestly. Which is…unexpected.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Too many things, Yolanda.
“Look I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been busy and-”
“Yeah, no, you’re ignoring me. Don’t bullshit me.”
Her jaw sets. “Fine, I am.”
“Well, is this your way of telling me you want to cut this off?” Yolanda asks and Trinity thinks there’s maybe a flash of hurt in her eyes but she doesn’t dwell on it.
She’s silent, mouth opening and nothing coming out as she stares at those brown eyes. When she finds her voice, Yolanda is nodding.
She gulps. “Right. I guess that answers it.” And she turns around.
“Wait.” She finds herself saying. Yolanda hesitantly turns around, expectantly. “I don’t. Not at all. But I also didn't know how to…after-” She interrupts herself, sighing. “I’m really…fuck, it’s embarrassing. I didn’t mean to have a panic attack at your place.”
“Trinity, no one means to have a panic attack.” Yolanda tilts her head, brows furrowed as if she’s figuring her out. Not unkind.
“Fuck, I know, I just-”
“This may be just sex but that doesn’t mean I don’t fuck give a about you.”
This may be just sex. Yeah, Trinity knows but there’s a part of her that aches at her words.
“I feel like I’m too much and there’s too much shit about me that is too heavy.”
“Trin…” Yolanda frowns, taking a step closer. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”
I'll take whatever you can give me. Who the fuck says that.
Her voice is soft as she reaches for her wrist, fingers wrapping around it. Trinity gulps.
“I don’t want to stop.”
Yolanda lets out a tiny breath. “Good.” She smiles softly. “You’ve got plans after this?”
Trinity shakes her head. And as she’s about to speak, someone walks into the room. Trinity jumps back, out of Yolanda’s grasp, clearing her throat.
It’s Whitaker, thankfully. And his gaze hardens when he sees Yolanda.
“All good?” He looks at Trinity pointedly. Damn, he’s being a protective little brother. Cute.
“All good, Huckleberry.”
“Right.” Dennis nods and heads to his locker, but Trinity can tell he is paying very close attention to them.
Yolanda smirks at her. “Text me later.”
Trinity nods, a soft blush on her cheeks. “Okay.”