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The world comes back into focus violently in form of blinding sunlight, a headache from hell and the kind of rolling nausea that brings along a healthy dose of regret.
“Oh my god.” Trinity groans and rolls onto her side, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes to block out the light. Static erupts across the backs of her eyelids, the uncomfortable sensation not nearly enough to drown out the result of more than just a few drinks too many.
Why didn’t she close the blinds last night?
“…Are you okay?”
Trinity nearly jumps out of her skin. “Jesus!” She tears her hands away, blinking fast to adjust and finds she is just inches away from—
“Trinity?” Mel’s brows crease in concern. This close, Trinity can follow every miniscule twitch of her face. Without Mel’s glasses in the way, Trinity has an unfettered view of her warm brown eyes. Mel shifts a little and rubs at the imprint the pillow left on her cheek. Trinity’s pillow.
“Uh.” Trinity blinks again and stares at her. Mel. Dr King. Who is in her bed. Right this very moment. “What?”
Confusion would be an inadequate description of the emotion coursing through her. Her head doesn’t need another reason to hurt and the dots are simply not connecting. Though theoretically, the simple conclusion to the equation of ‘drinks + Melissa King in her bed the day after’ would be—
Trinity freezes, breath caught high in her chest, and takes inventory of her body. She’s pretty sure she’s still wearing her boxers, but… She lifts the covers, takes a peek and drops them with a forceful exhale. Yep, that’s apparently about all she’s wearing on this fine morning. Not that she has particular strong feelings about Mel seeing her boobs – they’re great boobs, okay – but it still leaves much unanswered.
She cranes her neck, casting a glance around her bright bedroom until she snags on the laundry chair. The date outfit she had chosen early yesterday morning (before heading in early to futilely try and catch up on her charting, before starting her shift with a possible child abuse case, before Langdon’s return, before Garcia’s rain check—) hangs limply from the pile atop the seat.
She’d thought it looked cute on her.
(It did.)
Trinity’s eyes narrow. So she did actually end up putting it on. When she tries to think back to yesterday evening, she recalls fireworks on the PTMC roof, but most of what must have happened after she—after theyleft the hospital is one big, headache-fuelling blur.
Well, that leaves only one way to get to the truth.
Trinity looks at Mel. “So, did we…”
“What?” Mel asks, once she catches on that Trinity’s sentence ends there.
“Nothing happened last night, right?”
Mel stares.
Trinity gives her a look and gestures between them. “You, me, in my bed?”
“Oh!” Mel says, more chipper than anyone should be the morning after getting shitfaced. She squints at Trinity. “Uhm—No, I don’t believe we had sex, if that’s what you mean.”
“Thank god,” Trinity sighs. She catches sight of Mel’s neutral expression. “Not that I—I just meant—“ She gives up before she digs herself into a grave she’s unlikely to want to get out of. “I’ve done that before is all and it’s usually a colossal mistake.”
Not that it’s all fine and dandy when she’s sober either, but that’s not something she wants to linger on right now.
“No, I understand,” Mel says. She nods earnestly and Trinity’s heart skips a beat.
Her voice has a rough edge to it, Trinity notices; like she has been talking too much. The realisation prompts flashes of Mel – controlled, socially unsure Mel – screaming her lungs out into the karaoke microphone. The new memory settles in Trinity’s stomach in a way that has very little to do with her nausea, a puzzle piece slotting back into place.
She had invited Mel out in an impulse she can’t quite name (not to go home to an empty apartment, not to give herself the chance to relapse again, not to be alone) but in no universe could she have predicted it’d play out like this.
Melissa King is full of surprises.
Trinity’s face is warm, and she decides it’s much too early to deal with any of this. She throws out an arm towards her nightstand and paws for her phone. The case feels vaguely unfamiliar as it presses into her palm, but she grabs it anyway. When she turns the phone on she is met with a lockscreen picture of her own flushed face pressed cheek-to-cheek with Mel’s, hazy eyes staring into the camera with matching drunken smiles on their lips.
Trinity blinks. Uhm. Okay? Whatever. Her gaze flickers to the time and skim the notifications. None from—Well, none meant for her. She passes the phone to Mel. “This is yours.”
Mel has her glasses on now, and she no longer has to squint to focus. She taps on the screen to wake it up. “Oh.” Her head rolls to face Trinity, the pillow pressing her frames slightly askew. “I hadn’t realised it was this late already.”
Trinity rolls her eyes, grimacing when it aggravates her headache. God, she really has to get up and down some extra strength Tylenol along with a gazillion gallons of water. Dehydration is a bitch. “It’s barely past eleven, Mel-atonin.”
A second passes, then Mel grins, eyes lighting up. “That’s a good one.” She mouths the word a few times, like it’s stuck in her mind and she has to find out how it feels on her own lips.
Her hair falls in front of her face, and Trinity’s fingers itch to brush it aside. Which she doesn’t, obviously, because that would be weird. Because Mel isn’t—Mel is Mel. That’s all.
Trinity clears her throat. “Did you—Did you sleep okay?”
The question is so lame it has her cringing internally, but Mel takes it as serious as ever, taking a moment to think it through. “I did,” she concludes with a satisfied smile. “I don’t usually sleep well away from home.”
“Yeah, well, alcohol will do that to you,” Trinity snorts.
Mel’s gaze traces a slow path along Trinity’s features, and Trinity is reminded how close they are right now. Her heart kicks up for some inexplicable reason. “Maybe,” Mel finally says, a thoughtful look on her face. Her gaze lingers a moment longer.
Mel’s phone rings, the sound loud and shrill, cutting through Trinity’s aching head. Mel startles, dropping it to her chest. She fumbles for it, hesitating a beat before picking up. She holds the phone at an arm’s length away from her face and scoots back to the headboard to sit somewhat upright. “Hi, Becca. Is everything okay?”
“Mel! Hi! You didn’t reply to my texts last night.”
Trinity yawns and stretches an arm above her head. She lets it flop across her face, breathing deeply.
“Oh. I’m sorry about that. I was—I went out last night and I didn’t wake up until just now.” Mel pauses. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s okay! And I’m okay. I’m feeling much better. I sent you a video of the fireworks. Did you get to see them in real life?”
“I—Yeah, I did!” Mel says. Something akin to joyful melancholy appears in her voice at the memory. “We went up to the hospital roof.”
“You look less sad than you were yesterday.”
Trinity agrees with Becca. Though part of it might just be the effect of waking up after a long night’s sleep, some weight seems to have lifted off Mel’s shoulders for now. Their night out might have served Mel as much as it has served Trinity.
Mel comes to a similar realisation. “I guess I am. Less sad.”
It’s quiet for a bit. Trinity peeks past her arm and watches with curiosity as Becca squints on Mel’s phone.
“You’re not at home,” Becca finally says. “Where are you?”
“I’m—“ Mel looks away from her phone, as if she only just now realises where she is. She takes a breath and squares her shoulders. “I’m with Trinity. Uhm—Dr Santos. My… friend from work?”
She tilts the phone towards Trinity, who waves. “Hi Becca.”
“Hi!” Becca says. When Mel turns the phone back, Becca purses her lips in thought. “She is very pretty.”
Trinity laughs. “Thanks, girl.”
Mel stays quiet, staring at the screen.
“Don’t you think so, Mel?” Becca prompts.
Mel blinks. “Uh—“ She casts Trinity a look. A rosy hue climbs up her cheeks. “I guess so, yeah?”
“You were with her last night?”
“Yes?”
“And now you’re in her bed.”
“…Yes?”
Becca hums. “You know, Adam is good at cheering me up when I’m not feeling great.”
A beat of silence passes before Mel’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Are you sure?” Becca asks, and despite whatever strange tension lingers between her and Mel, Trinity can feel the mischief she emanates. “Because you’ve been like this before, and—“
“Okay!” Mel interrupts too loudly, fumbling with her phone. “I’ll take a look at your texts have fun with Adam talk to you later goodbye!” She jabs at the screen until the call disappears.
For a long moment the only sound in Trinity’s bedroom is Mel’s heavy breathing.
Trinity clears her throat. “Adam?”
“…Her boyfriend.”
“Ah.”
Mel carefully sets her phone down atop the covers and slides down to stare up at the ceiling. Her face is still pink, and part of Trinity wants to tease her for it—comment on it, find a way to fluster her further, see if the colour sticks to her cheeks or travels further down her neck and throat, down the top of her chest and—
Trinity tears her eyes away. Another part of her figures it’s safer to say nothing. For now. She’ll find a way to bring it up again in the future.
It’s strangely peaceful, anyway. Lying here next to Mel. If it weren’t for her persistent headache and overall awful hangover, Trinity wouldn’t mind staying here for a little while longer.
But she knows it can’t last. Knows she needs to pop some pills, nudge Mel towards the front door and they can both go about their day. They’ll see each other at work again in a day or two when their shifts overlap and that’ll be that. The end of a ‘shitty shift turned strangely fun screaming session turned impromptu sleepover’.
She opens her mouth to tell Mel as much, but what comes out instead is, “Breakfast?”
Mel’s face lights up with pure joy and Trinity pretends that doesn’t liquify her insides. “I love breakfast!”
“Oh my god, you’re totally a morning person, aren’t you?” Trinity rolls out of bed and gets up on her feet, staggering over to her closet. She pulls open the first drawer she reaches and grabs a set of comfy clothes that she throws at Mel.
Mel fumbles to catch them, knocking the shirt to her lap. “…Is that a bad thing? I’m not sure if I’d really say I was a morning person, because, well, I don’t really need much sleep so I’m usually up late—“
“Chill, girl,” Trinity says. She threads her arms through the sleeves of her jumper and casts a look back across her shoulder to find Mel has pulled on Trinity’s t-shirt. It hangs loosely on her frame, her sports bra peeking out from the collar when she tugs her hair free. Trinity’s chest feels lighter than it has in a long while. “I’ll find a way to live with the knowledge.”
Mel’s eyes flicker across Trinity’s face from behind those round frames of hers, lingering on Trinity’s quirked lips. A tentative smile appears.
Trinity looks away before she does something stupid. She clears her throat and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “The bathroom is just down the hall. There’s extras of everything in the cupboard under the sink if you need it. I’ll get started on breakfast.” She heads for the bedroom door, but pauses. “Uhm—No eggs, right?”
A moment passes. “No eggs,” Mel confirms softly. “Thank you.”
“No worries,” Trinity says nonchalantly and flees the scene.