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It was about two weeks after moving in together when Trinity casually revealed that she thought Dennis was a girl before he started speaking. Naturally, they were drinking—her, a little more than him.
In her defense, he was skinnier then, with a choppy not-quite-a bowl cut, and an awful fringe. Kind of sort of exactly her type, though she was thankfully sober enough to keep that part to herself.
She always did like the chapstick types, always did like girls; girls like Yolanda, who turned her brain into lobotomized mush with the slightest bit of attention they tossed her way and leave her right when she’s at the picking-names-for-their-future-cats stage in her sapphic delusions.
Those idiots who keep saying they wish they liked girls to get away from the overflowing shitpit that is dating a guy have never had the displeasure of being trapped in a lesbian situationship. Unfortunately for Trinity, she’s been on both ends of that stick. Enough times to figure out that she had been the common denominator in all of those screwed-up relationships.
But it’s not like she’s the one who can’t get along with people. Or holds grudges. Or pushes them away. If you love someone, you’ll come back to them, right? Even when they hurt you? It’s what she does. So, why can’t they?
Maybe that’s why she likes Huckleberry so much. He’s like her, in that way—keeps coming back to her every time she sends him flying with a kick up the ass.
“I know Krav Maga” she even told him once. It's hard not to when it's embedded in every single self-defence class for women. She doesn’t know why she felt the need to warn him that day. She thought he was gay.
It was her second assumption about him that turned out to be a complete bust now that Fuckleberry’s fucking that fucking farmer, probably harvesting all up in her moon and shit.
The mental image makes her shiver–shudder! She meant to say shudder. Because it’s disgusting. It is! It’s like seeing your dog humping your shoes, or something. You’re not supposed to have sex! You’re supposed to be cute and annoying! Why can’t he just be a cute and sexless and annoying! Why can’t he just be a tiny sound that fills the awful quiet in every room she’s forced to be alone in!
“Just say it,” he taunts her with actual sparks in his eyes. “Say you like having me as your roommate.” For a second she thinks she’s outside, watching the fireworks.
She doesn't like having him as her roommate, and he tells him as such.
For one thing, he leaves his dirty clothes everywhere!
She always leaves a piece on whatever surface he threw it on as she stalks the empty halls of their house with a hamper; still can’t figure out if it’s an act of peaceful protest or something revoltingly needy she doesn’t ever want to name.
Next, he eats all of her avocados as soon as they ripen!
Even if she buys double for them every. goddamn. time. They’re still somehow gone before she takes a single bite; sucked into the avocado vortex Dennis has for a stomach, never to be seen again… The cycle continues the next time they go to the grocery store when she ends up buying him more; lets him fill their basket, picking each one with his expert, farmer hands and moaning as he smells them like he wants to sniff the color off of them. She doesn’t even like avocados.
Then, he keeps pausing the TV to ask the dumbest questions.
She doesn’t even have a spin on this one. It’s just plain annoying.
So, she spends the next however many hours she can spare working overtime before she collapses, chanting these unforgivable crimes Whitaker has committed against her, hoping that they’d make her like him any less if she just keeps repeating it.
Javadi–who apparently bore witness to one of the most humiliating moments in her life, losing an argument to Huckleberry, eugh–keeps giggling every time she sees Trinity coming. And the way she tries to keep dodging them both apparently doesn’t go unnoticed, either.
“Why are you running?” Garcia’s voice breaks her out of her fugue-state flight and flight response.
“I’m not running.” she stares down at her shoes like a bad kid. “I’m rushing. Busy day, you know?”
Garcia makes a sound that tells her that she’s not fooling anyone, least of all her, who happens to think that she knows Trinity a lot better than she cares to.
Good for her.
“Anyway, bye.” The second she tries to turn away, she ends up making a full 180 at the sight of Dennis noticeably staring at her on the other side of the hallway, trading that conversation for the lovely feeling an ant getting burnt under Garcia's magnifying glass gaze “Actually, you know what, I can probably have a quick chat. What’s up, girl?”
“What’s up girl?” Garcia repeats it back to her, and suddenly she regrets her decision. She's not even being particularly mean, or anything. It’s almost impressive how small she can make Trinity feel without even trying.
“Yeah, uh, what are you doing here?”
“Leaving?” she says it like it’s the most obvious thing on earth. “Did you hit your head, or something?” It’s phrased like a lighthearted jab, and if it were said it any other day, Trinity would have taken it as such and responded in kind. Today, it feels like shit she doesn’t have to take to try to make her like her again.
“Uh-huh. Just making conversation. Happy Fourth.”
Or it would have been, had Garcia not had a change of heart. “Still wanna watch the fireworks?”
She halts in her step, her eyebrows jumping up to her hairline. “Are you serious?”
Garcia groans. “Are we going to keep talking through questions?” Oh, the irony must be lost on her.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk at all.”
“About Langdon.” She corrects her like it matters.
It does, but not in the way she thinks.
“Sorry,” she psychs herself up for what she's about to say. “He’s such a hot topic.” and walks directly towards Dennis' way, leaving Garcia dumbfounded, and ever so slightly impressed.
He welcomes her with open arms, a little too welcoming.
“Did you just blow off Garcia?” He gleams at Trinity as she approaches. “For work?”
She sighs and passes by him. “I can go back and give her a better excuse if you got any in your pockets?”
“Ah,” he starts following after her like a little duckling, easily catching up. “Sorry, I must have left it in my other overalls.”
She actually laughs at that. Possibly her first (and very likely last) laugh of the day. He positively preens like like a shy little peacock and basks in that rare, beautiful sound.
“Are you finally ready to say it?”
“Say what?”
He sighs. “Come on, for me?”
“For you? What do you mean for you?” she's ready to jump out of the rooftop right at this moment before she realizes that he’s just teasing.
“I promise I’ll pick up all my clothes from now on. I’ll make avocado toast for you every Sunday. I’ll even stop that last thing you said that I didn't really catch because you were still on that avocado thing.”
“Asking stupid questions while we're watching TV.” she scoffs, trying to sound mean as she tries to fight back a smile.
“Ooof." He grimaces like even the thought of it is painful. "That one might be a little too difficult.”
“We can always duct-tape your mouth if you're down.”
He chuckles, “I’ll just write them down and bombard you when we’re done.”
She takes a moment to consider this. “Okay, deal.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath.
“I like having you as my roommate, Fuckleberry." It's too vulnerable to think let alone say out loud, so she makes a few addendums "So don’t leave me to slobber all over Robby’s plants, okay? Don’t finger his fucking mail either.”
“Deal.” He laughs and stretches out a hand and waits for her to grasp it in a crushing grip and squeeze the bones out of him or ignore it altogether. Instead, she clasps it gently in her soft, warm hands and shakes it like she’s holding it, not letting go before he does.
He’s in such a shock that he doesn’t even realize that he’s been staring into her eyes like he’s watching a natural phenomenon--like a creep--for the past thirty seconds.
“You, uh,” his voice almost cracks like a teenager before he covers it up with a cough, “Do you wanna watch the fireworks? You know, as roomies?” he actually squeaks that last word and waits for her to pummel him with a barrage of mockeries.
Instead, she smiles and starts walking away. “Sure, we’re going to the same place.”