Chapter Text
Trinity never woke up early. On her days off she preferred to stew in the luxury of rest, something that she had only recently really learned the importance of. But today was a special case. It was nice to open your eyes to the warm sun and your girlfriend…well…situation ship. The angry resident would never know if she called her her girlfriend in her head. What did it matter?
Trinity stretched, satisfied at the pops that resonate from her stiff muscles. Yolanda was still asleep, her dark hair spilling across the pillow under her head as her eyes remained shut blissfully. She rarely looked blissful. Trinity remembered when it seemed her only emotion was annoyed. It was a fond memory. And then she remembered the scalpel in the woman's foot and cringed.
She started from her thoughts as Yolanda groaned, opening her eyes blearily before shutting them again.
“...what time is it?”
Trinity hummed, leaning down to kiss her hair and forehead, “like eight.”
Yolanda smiled, gently pushing her off. Trinity huffed, “what you don't like me affections? Seemed to like ‘em quite a lot last night.”
“Yeah yeah.” Trinity sat back as the other woman sat up, the blankets pooling in her lap and revealing her bare skin. No matter how many times they hooked up, the other woman's body never failed to amaze her. She was taller than Trinity, and her limbs were so drawn out and lanky that sometimes when she stretched the comparison of a tree's outstretched branches was fitting.
She sighed, reaching for her shirt, “I should go.”
Trinity deflated a bit. Mornings were always the hardest. When Yolanda came to her senses and realized she had better places to be then with the sorry excuse of a med student that the shorter woman was. Trinity would never admit, but one of her main love languages was quality time. So it was hard to not be a little sad every time Yolanda left as soon as they woke.
Trinity forced a smile, “...you don't want breakfast? I'll make pancakes. Beat Whitaker to the kitchen.”
Yolanda sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she paused in getting dressed. “...I'll stay for coffee.”
Small wins.
She did, in fact, not beat Whitaker to the kitchen. The blond was already attempting french toast, the kitchen filled with the scent of burning bread and cinnamon.
He was wearing an unfamiliar shirt, but he went thrifting regularly so whatever and shorts that revealed his pale legs- which were reasonably built considering how much time he spent on that farm.
There was some random fifty year old funk song playing in the background as the frazzled blond went about cooking.
“Oh, hey trin-” he froze when Yolanda followed from Trinity's bedroom, her dark hair still loose. Yolanda was over all the time, and Whitaker still hadn't seemed to have gotten used to her, “...uh…and hello Dr. Garcia.”
Yolanda smiled, helping herself to the coffee, “were outside of work, Dennis. Call me Yolanda.”
Trinity couldn't help but warm at the image. She was making herself her own little family here.
After booting Dennis out of the kitchen, Trinity started making real food. Yolanda remained at her spot at the counter, nursing a mug of coffee, while Dennis awkwardly told her about Amy's farm.
“So…this is your girlfriend?” Yolanda asked with a smile. Everyone seemed to draw that conclusion.
“Oh- God no! No- I just- we’re friends. Her husband only died a few months ago…no.”
Trinity grinned, speaking up, “no it's just his farm friend with benefits.”
He scoffed, making a face at her.
She rolled her eyes, serving Yolanda a plate loaded with berries despite her original denial. She feels her heart warm at the small smile she earns.
“Relax huckleberry. Everyone can tell you're not exactly a ladies man.”
“Shut up, you sleep with enough ladies for all of us.”
Yolanda laughs at that. So it's worth it.
Trinity makes a plate for Dennis, and lastly herself, sitting next to Yolanda who was practically done. She'd be going soon. It'd be ok.
Dennis got back up, his good only half finished and put toast into the toaster.
Trinity frowned, “Jesus, hungry this morning huckleberry?”
Dennis laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, “...uh…no…it's…” his face was a bit red as he avoided her eyes.
She scowled, trying to figure out what he was on about. Dennis had gotten used to eating little from his “unhoused” era, so he usually didn't eat very much at meals.
Then, Dennis’s door down the hallway opened, and out came a tired looking Rabinavitch, his hair a mess, wearing grey sweatpants and a hoodie. He lumbered out and froze when he saw the girls.
“...uh…”
“Robby?” Yolanda asked, shocked, “what the hell are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I- I came to see Trinity.”
“Well I came to see Dennis.”
Trinity laughed, dropping her fork as she pointed at Dennis, “I fucking knew it! Crash owes me thirty bucks!”
Dennis turned a rosy pink, “you were betting on my love life!?”
“Your sex life actually,” she corrected smugly as she sat back down.
“Trinity!”
Yolanda and Michael were having their own little debate as well.
“You're sleeping with a med student!?” she demanded in that doctor tone, her arms crossed.
The attending shrugged, looking too exhausted to deal with all this, “so are you, Garcia.”
“You're an attending!”
“You're a senior resident.”
Trinity laughed, putting her hands on Yolanda's shoulders, ignoring the momentary tensing up that her hands are returned with.
“Come on, your fucking a med student, he's fucking a med student, who cares?”
Yolanda sighed, stepping out of Trinity's grip.
“See you tomorrow, Santos.” She grumbled before storming out the front door. It hurt, more than usual. The goodbyes were always bitter for the shorter woman, but the extra addition of her last name was just cruel.
She swallowed hard and turned back to her food to ignore the pitying look she was sure Whitaker was giving her. She didn't need pity. At least Yolanda liked her enough in the warm darkness of her bed. It didn't matter if she stuck around for the pointless lovey dovey shit at breakfast.
“Eh she'll come around.” Robby shrugged as he leaned on the counter. “...what's burning?”
Dennis jumped, rushing towards the smoking toaster, “shit, shit, shit-”
……
That evening, Trinity found herself sitting on the counter with Dennis as they passed a pint of strawberry ice cream back and forth. It'd been a sucky day. After Yolanda left she'd spent her time studying and wallowing in lesbian self pity. She knew this was Dennis’ pathetic albeit sweet attempt at cheering her up.
“...so…are you and Robby like official?” she asked as she passed the tub back to him. The brunette had known about her roommate's crush ever since their third shift. Never thought he'd actually have it in him to score though.
Dennis flushed as he dug around in the carton.
“...I…think so? We went on a date and…” he got a bit redder, “I mean it sounds like he wants to be official.”
“You gotta lock that shit down, huckleberry,” she grinned, clicking her tongue.
He huffed, “well what about you and Garcia huh? Don't see you locking that down.”
Her smile quickly faded and she scoffed, seizing the carton back, “you don't think I've tried?”
“Yeah sorry,” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I meen. Do you think she doesn't want to go official? Maybe she's scared of commitment.”
Trinity huffed as she scooped another spoonful into her mouth. Yolanda had been warming up a bit more. At first it had just been sex, and then an empty bed before Trinity even woke up. She could be scared of commitment. Or maybe she only ever wanted sex to begin with and trinity was pushing it.
“...I don't know.”
“You deserve a good relationship, Trin. Not some girl who blows you off after sex.”
Trinity shot him a look.
He smiled, putting his hands up in surrender, “sorry! But watching you sulk is depressing. Come on, movie?”
She sighed, smiling a bit. He was the best friend she'd had in a long time. Even if she didn't end up with Garcia, at least one good person will have come from her E.R rotation.
“...yeah. That sounds nice.”