Chapter Text
Trinity doesn't have a pep in her step. She was always energetic and wildly on top of things, but pep is never present. That would be lame.
She's definitely a little enthusiastic, though. Lighter, maybe.
Because she had dinner plans tonight. Honest to god, sit down restaurant, date-type dinner plans with the Queen of Casual.
Garcia had asked if she was free tonight, as blasé as she normally did. Thankfully, Trinity was indeed free. It saved her the internal embarrassment of immediately canceling her plans at the slight indication that Garcia wanted her around.
But then the curveball: Garcia had a reservation to a swanky steakhouse and wanted Trinity to be her date.
Well, granted, it wasn't exactly like that. Garcia had made the reservation months ago for her and a friend and said friend had bailed at the last minute. So her romantic proposal was more of a, “I'm getting that fucking prime rib, but I'm not going to be the type of loser that eats it alone.”
Which she'll take.
She'll take anything.
Obviously it's a lot better when that anything means putting on a fancy dress and going out with Garcia for more than a late night trip to the gas station for ice cream.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Sending up a silent, nondenominational prayer that it's a “speak of the devil” situation, she tosses her apartment keys to Dennis so she can check it.
He had his own, of course, but she had hers out on account of being literal seconds away from unlocking the door.
“Shit!” Completely caught off guard, he fumbles them hard.
Trinity doesn't even look up, even though the sight is probably pretty funny. She unlocks her phone as quick as possibly, barely remembering to even take a step to the side so Dennis can actually get to the door when he fetches the keys.
Garcia: Plans worked out after all. Need a rain check.
A rain check. For plans she barely made in the first place.
A-fucking-gain.
This was getting pathetic.
No. It was beyond pathetic at this point. She was such a fucking idiot. Of course Garcia would be working her ass off behind the scenes to make sure she didn't have to settle for a night out with Santos.
And this rain check would be what? Pizza, sex, and a refusal to properly acknowledge her at work the next day?
“–ity?”
She looks up, shoving her phone back in her pocket like she's hiding contraband.
Dennis has his eyebrows scrunched while he stands in front of the now open door to their apartment. “Are you ok?”
“Always.” She replies, a hard edge to her tone not-so-subtly implying that she'll kill him if he questions her further.
He sighs, eyes subconsciously darting to her phone-filled pocket.
“I want to watch something gory tonight, Huck. Buckle in.” She smacks him on the chest as she passes, flinging off her shoes with abandon and beelining to the living room. For now: Ignore it. Later: Be a puddle of emotions.
“Uh...” Dennis winces a little as he follows at a distance safe from any elbow jabs.
Trinity falters in her determined march to the couch, hoping it doesn't show. It makes sense for Dennis to have plans – even if that plan is to veg out on his own. He wasn't on Garcia-induced clean-up duty 24/7.
He should be. If the world were fair. But alas.
“Sick of me already?” She quips, the joke landing a little too close to home in her brain.
Offering him a room was the right thing to do. It was a crazy leap of faith, but it was the right thing to do.
It also, maybe, set up a little bit of a situation where it would be impossible for him to get sick of her like so many others had.
Like Garcia officially had.
But now he was paying rent like a big boy even if she didn't need or want him to. Beyond secretly hoping he'd feel benevolent, mushy feelings towards her forever, she wanted him to live comfortably. Save money, relax a little.
Without all that, it was only fair that he started ditching her a little more, right? Now cash could be substituted for time spent indulging her shows and albums and cooking sprees.
Not that she needed all that to keep him around, obviously. But it wasn't so awful of a thing that she couldn't get that memo through his head.
Until now, apparently.
She looks back when he's silent for too long, a fake smirk plastered on her face to hopefully prompt a response out of him.
He looks positively sheepish, worrying at the hem of his scrub top like a Victorian orphan died and resurrected, pallor and eye bags and all. “I was planning on heading over to Amy's tonight...?”
It's clearly an established plan but he's made it into a question in the face of Trinity's brutal annoyance at the very idea of Amy.
Trinity sighs, dropping boneless on the couch with limbs sprawled out. Like he's killed her, rather than just inconvenienced her.
They might as well be the same thing in her mind.
So screw all that worrying about him moving on to greener pastures. Amy was a fallow field. A bog, sucking him down. She wasn't being abandoned, he was being taken.
Now instead of being all mopey for herself, she's struck by that familiar anger stemming from incredibly veiled concern.
“You fucking loser.” She huffs. “Fine.”
“I can cancel?” Dennis offers, tentative. A little frantic.
“Don't bother. Your wife needs you. Who am I to stand in the way?”
“Trin.” He scolds, sitting on the arm rest furthest from her, just in case he has to dodge an annoyed elbow. “I've told you –”
“It's not like that.” She mocks, saying it at the same time as him.
Dennis sighs, sitting down next to her, avoiding flailed out limbs like they're landmines. Trinity side eyes him skeptically while he pulls one leg up to sit facing her. After a second he props one elbow up on the back of the couch so he can rest his cheek on his hand.
Really settling in.
“What?” She snaps.
“You could come with?” He throws out tentatively, dragging the words out like it would make them more appealing. The way you try to build anticipation for a child. Or a dog.
Trinity laughs derisively.“Fuck off.”
But Dennis doesn't laugh back. Doesn't say “gotcha”. Doesn't do anything but continue staring at her in anticipation.
She sits up abruptly, slamming her feet on the floor. “Oh my god, you're serious?”
He shrugs. “Amy would love to have you over.”
“Yeah, I bet. More free labor for the farm.” The word is spat out like it's poisonous in her mouth.
“It's not –”
“Like that.” She finishes with a huff. “Get a new line, farm boytoy. That one is getting a little old.”
“It's true.” Dennis does laugh now, like she's being funny. “Let me prove it.”
“I'm allergic to barns. Hay,” She snaps a finger and points like she's just remembered something. "Cows, even.”
It's not true. She's not allergic to anything. She's too evolved for that.
“Come on. If you're so convinced you're right, this should be a great opportunity.” He nudges her foot with his.
She hisses and jerks away. “You're too widow whipped to believe me even if I leave more convinced than ever.”
Dennis drops his face from his hand, faceplanting it into the cushion.
“Give it up, Schmuckleberry.”
He shakes his head. “I'll think of something.” The sentence is muffled by the couch.
She cups a hand to her ear and leans in. “What was that? “Trinity, you're better at arguments than me because you're so smart and correct all the time”?”
This time the nudge he gives her is more of a kick to the shin. He has to slide down awkwardly to get enough reach with his leg to nail her, but he manages.
She gasps in indignation while he pops his head up and squares his shoulders like he's entering battle.
“Theo is the same age as that kid from yesterday that you were not-so-secretly bummed to not be able to take care of all day. You hesitated on jumping in on a pedestrian collision, Trin.”
“Ok, that kid was a little angel. And her brother needed his mom's full attention.”
“Uh huh.” He nods, making it clear he's not convinced.
Her soft spot for kids was a mile long.
“Whatever.” She tries and fails to act unbothered by getting called out. Her shoulders are high and defensive, her face a scowl. “I'm sure Theo takes after his mom in all the worst ways.”
Dennis grins. “And wide open fields? Aren't you always saying you need a good, feral scream?”
“What's the point of screaming if nobody is around to flinch?”
"I'm sure you'd startle a few cows."
Trinity genuinely seemed to give that a proper thought.
Still, Dennis doesn't really know how to follow up that train of thought. He can't in good conscience start offering up more of Amy's animals to be tormented. Even if Trin would almost certainly enjoying chasing chickens or harassing horses.
So he settles on an wide-eyed, pouty, "Please, Trin?"
"Your boy tears are useless here." She grumbles, even as she avoids eye contact and shifts awkwardly.
He sighs. Pathetically.
"Stop it."
Got her.
"Stop what?" He asks, trying to keep his self-satisfaction of of his voice. "I'm not doing anything."
"You do know your friends don't need to be friends with each other." Trinity turns to face him with a huff, still desperately trying to wiggle out of the situation.
Dennis sighs again, looking down and fiddling his fingers together. Shoulders hunched, curled into himself a little. "I guess..."
“Ugh.” Trinity groans, winding up for a punch to his upper thigh so he flinches like she's going for the groin.
He does flinch.
The hit lands soft for the amount of build up it had. She'd never want to actually hurt the loser. Sometimes she just needs to remind him she's the older sibling around here.
“I'm driving. And if you passive aggressively tell me the speed limit even once, I'm turning back around. Got it?”
Dennis gives her a salute, beaming. “Got it.”
Trinity's only been in Amy's house for a minute and she already knows she isn't going to reconsider her opinions.
There's a Live, Laugh, Love decoration hanging on the wall, for fuck's sake.
She's so distracted trying to come up with a better alliteration that she's missing the cutesy little conversation happening around her. Obviously she doesn't give a shit about it anyway, but she is genuinely thinking about something else.
Cry, coerce, cohabitate? Beg, bother, babytrap? Deceive, destroy –
Dennis claps her on the back, breaking her out of her pondering. “Please play nice? For me?”
“Did you ask Amy the same thing?” Trinity snaps.
“Are you genuinely asking? Because it kind of seems like you couldn't tell me what was said.”
She blows a raspberry at him in lieu of a real response.
Theo gurgles in delight at it. She turns to smile at him, pointedly ignoring Amy even though she's holding him.
“Ok. I'm going to go check the fence line with Theo,” Dennis says his name in a sweet, sing-songy voice before going back to serious, “And I want you two to try and talk. Please.”
Amy nods her agreement, puttering forward so Dennis can take Theo from her. He whispers something that makes her laugh, which fills Trinity with a disproportionate rage. Her lip twitches in disgust.
Probably some joke about her being unreasonable.
Like every other part of this whole thing was reasonable.
“Have fun.” She tells him, sarcasm dripping off the words.
He gives her a stern look, the one he's copied off Robby. The one that says, “behave or I'll be disappointed”. Still, he commits to the frankly unwise decision to leave the two alone, bouncing Theo with well-practiced ease as he heads out.
It's cute that he trusts her. But it's not going to stop her from getting into the weeds of this screwed up shitshow.
“Again, it's nice to meet you.” Amy breaks the silence in a seemingly genuine tone, holding out her hand to shake.
Trinity brushes past her to go sit at the nearby table, figuring she had the time to get comfortable. Or, as comfortable as she could considering these chairs were uncushioned wood.
Amy laughs awkwardly, dropping her hand to wipe it on her pant leg like it's clammy. She decides to sit at the table too, all stiff lines compared to Trinity's sprawl. Her head ducks low as she twists at the wedding ring she's still wearing.
Trinity takes it as her cue to jump right into it. “Your relationship with him is weird.”
Amy's head shoots up, eyes wide and surprised. “I'm sorry, wh–”
“The whole,” Trinity waves her hand vaguely, “Farm husband schtick is weird.”
Amy blinks a few times in stunned silence, her hand reaching for a necklace that isn't there anymore. Trinity crosses her arms and leans back with her eyebrows raised and tongue in cheek in challenge, pleased with herself.
“My husband is dead.” Amy finally says flatly.
“I know. That –”
“No, you don't know.” She rips her hand from her throat like she's tossing the cross away again, standing so quickly her chair topples over. “You don't know me. You don't know anything.”
“I know Dennis is constantly working on a farm that isn't his, tending to animals that aren't his, doing diy on a house that isn't his, and helping raise a kid that isn't his.”
Amy lets her rant, scoffing out a laugh as she listens. Her head bobs up and down, foot twitching to stomp down on the leg of the chair behind her just to hear it splinter.
She doesn't know when Dennis will be back with Theo. She already couldn't stomach how much she'd cried in front of him even though he was too young to understand. Him hearing her yell was just unacceptable.
So she waits for Trinity to stop on her own, breathing deeply to ground herself.
“Dennis is my friend. He's not my doctor. He's not my husband's replacement. He's not a tool for me to use. He's my friend.”
“Really?” Trinity laughs humorlessly, tossing her head back to blink at the rafters. “He does an awful lot for a friend.”
“Oh?” Amy crosses her arms. “Should I assume you're jealous then? I mean, offering him a place to live after just meeting him...”
With a sharp inhale, Trinity sits bolt upright. “That's not –”
“Not what? Fair? The same?”
“I'm not looking to round my family back out!”
“And I'm not either!”
“So you really are just utilizing the free labor?” Trinity looks smug, like she's caught her out.
Amy groans, rubbing at her throat anxiously. “Do you know how many times I've told him it's not necessary? I practically have to drag him back in the house most days so he can take a break.”
“Because he feels responsible.”
“And that's not my fault!” Amy counters. “I would never make him feel that way on purpose, and I've told him that.”
“Oh no ma'am, believe me, he slipped and fell into drowning himself in my work! I guess there's nothing to be done but lay down and watch!” Trinity mocks in a high, floaty voice. A hint of a southern accent pokes through, which is just confusing.
“He –” Amy sucks in a ragged breath, leaning against the table to keep herself steady. Sinking to Trinity's level wasn't her way. She could push through this. “I'm not going to discuss Dennis' private matters with you. Especially if you won't take this seriously.”
Trinity leans forward, elbows resting on her knees as she wrinkles her nose in abject disgust. “Dennis doesn't keep “private matters” from me.”
She knows Dennis. He likes to feel useful and he carries guilt and he likes going back to yesteryear by playing country bumpkin. It's not that deep. Amy is the one dragging it out and making it complicated.
“Of course not.” Amy says dismissively. Not being overtly cruel, just making sure Trinity feels her doubt.
For a brief, seemingly impossible moment, Trinity is stunned into silence.
In what universe did this girl think she knew her Huckleberry better than she did? In what universe could her best friend be –
Amy takes advantage of the silence, shifting so she's back to being the focus of Trinity's momentarily spaced-out gaze. “When I extended an offer to be friends, I thought my husband was going to live. I thought we'd all be friends. What, should I have taken it back when he didn't perform a miracle?”
Trinity rubs at her forehead, brushing back a few stray strands of hair. Like containing the mess outside would fix the one inside. “Maybe.”
“I still bring pies to half the nurses I met in the ICU, whether they were taking care of Teddy or not. I share book recommendations with the funeral director's wife nearly every week.”
“That's. Weird.” Trinity points out, laughing in disbelief edging on mild hysteria. Amy was a fucking freak and somehow she was the one getting harped on for being wary of her?
Seriously?
“I like clawing back light from the darkness! I like meeting someone kind on the worst days of my life. It's weird that you hate me for that.”
“I hate you for having Dennis at your beck and call and not your family. Or Teddy's!”
Amy puts her hands on her hips, lips twitching in a sneer she's really trying to tamp down. “Because the people in this kind of environment would never be judgmental over a girl running a farm. And they definitely wouldn't always have something to say about me being a single, working mother.”
“Oof, girl.” Trinity blows out a breath with a genuine wince. All of Amy's other shit she had no clue how to relate to or believe. But misogyny?
Yeah, maybe that made some sense.
Amy giggles in spite of herself, completely blown away by the strangely genuine response. “Oof? After all that I get an oof?”
“Stop saying oof.” Trinity's frown breaks after a second, a begrudging chuckle crawling up her throat. She won't let it out. But it's there, making her chest shake all the same.
It's now that Dennis plods back in, Theo babbling in his arms. He definitely could have stumbled in at a worse time, but there were better times too.
Because he grins, wide and genuine, at the sight of the two of them. “Aww, Theo, look who's getting along?” He points at them, wiggling his finger to draw his attention.
Trinity sobers quickly. She clears her throat and looks away. Then immediately feels bad for icing out a literal baby and looks back in preparation of pasting on a smile if he actually looked in her direction.
Amy doesn't have to fake anything. She's genuinely smiling as she walks up to take Theo back. “I think we'll get there.”
The naivety of delusion.
Dennis looks to Trinity for confirmation as he hands the kid off.
She very obviously pretends to look around, like she's not aware he's talking to her. Her only pause in the motion is a quick grin at Theo, who giggles.
“I'll take that.” Dennis shrugs, knowing it's the best he'll get.
Amy shifts Theo to one hip so she can hold her hand out for a high five. Dennis returns it joyfully. Matching her odd energy perfectly.
Trinity feels jealousy curl in her gut. Was Dennis really hiding stuff from her?
Could she blame him? It's not like she tolerated him talking about this stupid place. About stupid Amy.
She shakes the thought away with a put-upon whole body shudder. It still wasn't the time for dwelling. Her breakdowns happened in private, thanks.
She claps herself on the knees like she imagines a farmhand would and stands up. “You promised me screaming, Huckleberry.”
Amy looks at him questioningly, still amused. A little alarmed.
“Catharsis?” Dennis explains feebly.
“Feminine power.” Trinity corrects, raising an eyebrow at Amy in challenge.
She doesn't take it as that. Instead, she smiles at her. “Great. I'll make cookies.”