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Javadi pauses for a whole minute, when Santos opens the door. She didn’t know what to expect otherwise, but Santos stands inside her apartment wearing the most typical lesbian outfit ever.
Looking at Javadi’s startled expression, she crosses her legs and leans against the doorway. It’s their day off, it’s the perfect opportunity to tease Javadi.
When Santos rests her elbow against the doorframe, Javadi’s eyes immediately follow the stretch of the black tank top, under which she can see the edge of her boxers peeking. Yeah, that’s definitely the most typical lesbian outfit ever. Except Trinity Santos is the one wearing it, and Javadi has come here, hoping to kick her ass for good.
The awkward silence only fuels Trinity’s little sarcastic ego, and she grins playfully. There’s no way she isn’t going to use this situation to embarrass Victoria.
“You ringed the doorbell, Crash?”
Javadi clears her throat and looks straight back up, matching eye contact with Santos. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. “Um, yeah. I wanted to talk to you.”
(I wanted to kick your ass)
“Well come on in. Huckleberry is at the farm again, so you have all the time and privacy you need.”
She holds the door open for Victoria, and along with a gesture of her head, mouths ‘After you’. Javadi already knows she’s fucked. For a moment there, she wishes she was homophobic and actually repulsed by whatever Santos is doing. Santos knows what she’s doing. She does this every time she’s about to be in trouble.
Trinity is sick at this little game where she gets away with everything. Victoria likes to call it ‘playing the lesbian card’ because who else is not flustered by a little chivalry from a girl? Right?
She has been to their apartment a couple of times before. There’s a little corridor to the living room, with a green wallpaper on both of the walls, and a small shoe rack just right of the entrance. She looks at the turned off lamp on top of it. It’s probably a new decoration, or Victoria has never given much attention in the first place.
Santos, just like Javadi, is not at all subtle about her favourite colour. The entire apartment has hints of dark green here and there. Even the couch is some sort of a viridian, with colourful little pillows to add some vibrance.
She remembers spending a movie night at their place, a couple of months ago. The girls basically forced Whitaker to watch lesbian rom-coms with them, who eventually seemed to find it cute. Since then, Samira, Mel and occasionally Becca have spent a couple of movie nights at Trinity’s and Dennis’ place. But Victoria always declined, because she couldn’t tolerate being next to Santos, who would never stop teasing her.
Not waiting till they even reach the couch in the living room, Victoria stops and turns around. “I need you to stop calling me Crash.”
“Is that why you came all the way here?”
Trinity picks up some books from the coffee table, which means she was reading before Victoria got here. It would be too hypocritical of her to call Trinity a dork, but that’s all she can think of. She gets a brief glimpse of the spines of the books, and realises they aren’t about medicine. From what she can make out, they’re some kind of murder mysteries. Very fitting, for some reason.
“No, I want you to stop calling me Crash and stop talking to me altogether. I’m tired of you embarrassing me around my own mom at work.”
“I thought you had issues with your mom before you even met me.”
Well, that’s a truth nuke. Javadi falls silent, pursing her lips, then she pleads, “But you’re making things worse!”
Santos goes inside her room to keep the books on her desk, then doesn’t bother to even look at her coworker before heading to the kitchen. That only makes Javadi scoff. She hates it when the nonchalance does piss her off. She adjusts her off-shoulder top, which Santos conveniently gets a partial view of.
Trinity comes out with two glasses of what Javadi presumes to be chilled lemonade.
“It’s a hot summer day, isn’t it, Crash?” she uses the nickname once again mockingly, while offering her one of the glasses.
“I literally just asked you to not call me that.”
“Hm, yeah. I don’t remember agreeing to it, though.”
“Stop messing with my life!”
“A nickname is… messing with your life?”
Javadi groans and chugs the glass of lemonade in one go. She doesn’t know what to tell her anymore. Fuck her stupid little half-up-half-down, and fuck that stupid smirk. “Every time you talk to my mom, it feels like a humiliation ritual. I want you to stop kissing her ass. It’s giving me second hand embarrassment at this point. Like how fucking desperate are you for a residency in surgery. And I want you to stop calling me Crash because I don’t like how you gave me a stupid fucking nickname because I fainted on my first day at work. And once again, please,” she emphasises by curling both of her hands into fists, “stay away from my mom.”
Oh, wow. Santos did not at all expect such a side of Javadi to come out. And this is her new favourite thing ever. She rubs the back of her neck and tries heavily to avoid smirking once again.
“Whoa, Crash– fuck, I mean, Victoria, I did not expect you’d hate me this much.”
They both know Santos did not say Crash as a slip of tongue. It was so deliberate, and so intended to be deliberate, that Javadi cannot control the rage in herself. “You think this is a fucking joke?”
“No, no, not really. I just wanted to ask you one question.”
“Fine, shoot.”
“Was it your mom to tell you she wants me to stay away?”
Nonsense question in the straightest voice.
This doesn’t even need a sigh. Javadi straight up presses on her temples with both her hands. There’s just no kind of full stop to her sarcasm and it’s irritating. It’s like, Santos never takes her seriously. She paces around the entire living room, trying to calm her nerves so that she doesn’t lose brain cells the next time she opens her mouth.
The very sight of Victoria being so distraught humours Trinity. There’s no way this can be so annoying. If anything, Trinity believes she does her a huge favour by distracting her mom every time she comes down to the ER. She honestly stopped caring about double-boarding her residency during her second year when the charting got too tedious and monotonous. She’d be considering it for her third year, maybe. For now, her choice has gravitated towards pediatrics.
But she thought it would be cool to give Victoria a break from Dr Shamsi, anyway. Well, a shot is worth a shot, yeah, but also it takes more than being an asshole to interrupt their conversations and let Javadi ramble for a few minutes afterwards about how her mom is interfering with her professional life.
So, was she really wrong to join the discussions, if all she wanted was to avoid her coworker getting humiliated by her own mother?
She doesn’t bring it up, but it doesn’t mean she forgot about the condescending tone her mom used against her on the day of PittFest shooting. And every single day since then. One wrong answer, and it would be the most mortifying consequence for Victoria.
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Leave you alone, with your mom? Pfft. We both know how that goes for you, Crash.”
“I’m capable of handling that on my own!”
“Fine, I won’t ask your mom for a residency spot in surgery.”
“No, I know what game you’re playing with this. Say that you’ll stay away from her.”
Santos lets out a breathy laugh. She feels like she got caught in her own wordplay, but also Javadi is being impossible right now.
“If you insist so much, then alriiiight. I will stay away from Dr Shamsi.”
Victoria finally plops on the couch, as if she has accomplished something entirely unattainable. She stretches her back and rests her neck against the top of the backrest. Victoria and Trinity are at a point where they’re both comfortable enough to feel tired around one another. That’s practically what they feel at work all the time, so being exhausted is the only true emotion Victoria shows around her at all.
Trinity doesn’t mind, but she also spends a good minute staring at Victoria stretch. Is it her fault for just noticing what’s in front of her? She isn’t staring at the collarbones, at least. And she’s absolutely not staring at the tiny braids on top of Victoria’s head. That definitely doesn’t make her cheeks go a little red.
Victoria touches her knees to her chest, and wraps her arms around herself. That’s how she likes sitting comfortably. “I’m so done with you annoying me all the time, Santos.”
“I guess I don’t really understand what’s so annoying about a nickname. Huckleberry doesn’t mind it,” she replies with a shrug of her shoulder, crossing both her arms.
“His dumbass thinks Crash has fucking momentum. I don’t expect him to have good taste in nicknames.”
“Take that the fuck back.”
“Fine, okay, whatever. It’s not just the nickname. You never leave me alone. Like, ever. To the point I’m glad to work on any case with literally anybody else. Working with you on triage the other day totally killed me because you think you’re so cool and oh so funny and you know what, actually? Fuck off, Santos.”
She gets up from the couch and gives Trinity the most irritated stare, stepping closer to her. “You’re not funny, by the way. Your stupid puns make no sense. Instead of going for surgery, why don’t you try fucking neurology and work with Dr Mehta? Your efforts to make the world’s lamest jokes will be much appreciated there.”
Santos stands unbothered, smiling at the outburst. She knows Javadi is venting something which isn’t even about her anymore. But she chooses to clarify anyway, “Actually, I’m planning to go for pediatric emergency medicine.”
Javadi doesn’t even register that in her own little crashout. “Well, whatever, I don’t care. Good for my mom, I guess.”
“Since when do you bother so much about your mom, Crash? I’m starting to think this is about something else.”
“I said, stop calling me Crash!”
“Mhm, this is about something else. I was right, like always.”
“I don’t like how cocky you are. You’re so full of yourself, Santos, it pisses me off.”
“Do you know that you have made zero arguments at all? Like you have not specified a single thing in your little rant.”
“I–”
“I don’t think your problem is with the name Crash. Or with me. I think you just came here because you missed me on our day off,” she interrupts, blinking her green eyes at Javadi. The pretense of innocence is not lost on Javadi, she knows that Santos knows. She doesn’t like having the realisation that she does, in fact, have a weakness for those big, round eyes. Or the tattoos peeking from under the seam of Santos’ basketball shorts. Or the fact that Santos is making her reach for what she wants.
“Shut up.”
“Crash,” Trinity mocks her once again, tripping her over the mental rope she kept tiptoeing on to distinguish between heart shaped candies and pure hatred.
Her entire physical state goes red, and she doesn’t know why, but her final thought is chasing Santos. She doesn’t want to hurt her, but just wants to shut her mouth, who now keeps running around the entire apartment. She chases Santos through the bedroom, in circles around the mahogany coffee table, and into the tiled kitchen. Truly, it is a chase right out of a 90s cartoon. Or a rom-com. There’s no thought in their minds, it’s simple as it seems; Javadi pursuing Santos under the guise of loathing, and Santos letting Javadi find her everywhere she goes.
At a point, Santos jumps on top of the bed which stops Javadi in her pursuit. She cannot stand on somebody else’s bed; her ‘good girl’ instincts kick in. Except she grabs a pillow and throws it with a perfect aim towards Trinity’s face.
She didn’t think of Santos to be so agile, but the cat-and-mouse chase turns from an outburst of rage to a distraction from whatever she was pissed about. They laugh at each other, and ask for small pauses through what is now supposed to be a game of tag. Eventually, Victoria exhausts all her energy and plops back into the same spot on the couch once again. She throws some of the pillows to the side and clears the backrest for herself. That doesn’t stop Santos.
“Come on, Crash. Was that it? You don’t want this cookie?” She poses a challenge, pointing both of her thumbs to herself cheekily.
“Oh shut up. I can’t run anymore.”
“So you do want this cookie? You could’ve just said that instead of all the drama.”
“Fuck off, Santos,” Javadi says, this time more humourously. She didn’t mean it as rudely as she did the last time. There’s a more refreshed smile on her face, her face glowing from the sweat.
Trinity also decides to end the game of tag, and sit on the couch next to Victoria, who’s tying her hair up in a messy bun. The glazing hot afternoon called for it anyway, but Trinity takes a moment to admire the shine of her hair.
Just to avoid staring for far too long, she puts both her hands behind her neck and relaxes against the backrest.
“Are you still sure you want me to leave you alone?”
“Okay, maybe I don’t want to be left alone.”
“And the nickname?”
“Don’t use it around anybody else. You can use it only when we’re both alone.”
“That kind of defeats the purpose of the nickname.”
“Genuinely, Santos, what do you want from me?”
“Hm, let me think abo–”
“No, I’m asking you seriously,” Javadi warns her, grabbing her tank top and scooting closer. The action catches Santos off guard, and her eyes widen at the boldness. “How am I supposed to shut your mouth before you embarrass me again?”
Her brain goes completely blank, there’s not much she can think when her very passive crush is acting like this. She doesn’t even know what to expect next. Her heartbeat elevates almost instantly, and her breathing becomes shallow.
“Crash…” she manages to whisper.
“No, I’m not letting this go unless you call me Victoria.”
Trinity doesn’t say anything. If she can’t call her Crash, she might as well not address her at all. “If I don’t?” she treads with her question carefully, feeling Victoria’s intense gaze on her. Her eyes dazzle, and they’re nothing short of enticing.
With a sudden, swift motion, Victoria stands on her knees, each on either side of Trinity. She doesn’t have the patience to tolerate the banter. “Don’t make me say it again, Trinity.”
That’s the first time she has used Trinity’s name throughout this little exchange of theirs. Or ever. Trinity wets her top lip, holding the eye-to-eye with Victoria. “Crash,” she says once again, daringly.
“Last chance,” Victoria warns, placing her other hand under the half-ponytail, feeling the goosebumps on the warm skin on Trinity’s nape. Her warning seems to have no effect whatsoever, Trinity smiles, already leaning up to touch noses, indicating her subtle surrender to the anticipated kiss. Both of her hands rest on top of Victoria’s thighs, who squirms a little with the touch. Victoria holds still, nonetheless.
“Crash,” Trinity challenges, this time with an almost silent whisper. The whole city is melting into the golden hour, but Victoria chooses to melt into Trinity’s jade coloured eyes; the most vibrant in the warmth of Victoria’s vicinity. She’s so close – so close – to the point of their vision being a little blurred.
In an attempt to give a reminder, she says, “I’m going to kick your ass, someday, Trinity.” But it’s mostly a way to remind herself, than anybody else, because she finds herself immediately giving in and going for the kiss.
She closes the gap between their bodies by tugging harder on Trinity’s black tank, and melts right into her. There’s something so electric about her efforts to be closer to Trinity being reciprocated, when she feels her hand glide up from the thigh to her waist.
Trinity is everywhere; Victoria can feel the buzz the most on her lips, and up in her head, down to the tips of her toes. After a point, she finds herself wrapping both arms around Trinity’s shoulders, crushing her down with her entire weight.
This is not what she had imagined at all, when the sight of Santos leaning against her doorframe pissed her off. She’s so… unbothered and nonchalant. All the time. Till she kisses – that’s when Santos gives her so much devotion. She welcomes Victoria’s need, and welcomes being wanted.
Really, Trinity is everywhere.
And when she pulls away just a little, it’s the first time she shuts her goddamn mouth. No stupid humour and no stupid nicknames. Just heavy breaths, and her earnest stare. A hand resting on Victoria’s left shoulder, thumb brushing against her collarbone. She finally managed to shut Trinity Santos up.