Work Text:
A huge semicircle of seats descending toward a massive stage in the center. Dark wood. Soft lighting. The smell of old leather. Microphones set up onstage. Even the acoustics were absurdly good. The only thing missing was an orchestra and a dramatic death in the third act.
That's exactly what the auditorium in UPMC looked like.
"This looks like the kind of place where someone should disembowel themselves while singing about tragic love," Santos muttered, dropping heavily into her seat.
Whitaker looked at her with disgust.
"This is a seminar about interpersonal communication and workplace harassment."
"So exactly what I said."
Beside her, Javadi snorted with laughter while Mel unzipped her hoodie and smoothed it down dramatically. The entire day shift had been herded in here by force. Over a hundred people. Obviously the hospital employed far more medical staff than that, but the auditorium was too small to fit everyone at once.
The ER sat on the left side of the auditorium, exhausted like hell.
Santos recognized some of the doctors and different departments scattered around the room. There were anesthesiologists, orthopedists, cardiologists, oncologists, neurologists. Those were the specialties she dealt with most often in the ER.
The night shift had come in early specifically so the day shift could attend the mandatory seminar titled: "Interpersonal Communication, Anti-Harassment Policies, and Building a Professional Workplace Culture." Of course, in a few days the day shift would have to stay two hours late while the night shift occupied the auditorium instead.
"I can't believe they even forced surgeons to attend this thing," Whitaker muttered.
Santos glanced where her roommate was looking. On the right side of the auditorium sat groups of general surgeons, neurosurgeons, and cardiothoracic surgeons. She still didn’t see Garcia anywhere. Shamsi and Miller were there, though, both of whom occasionally showed up downstairs in trauma.
People were still filing in and taking seats, so she assumed Garcia would show up eventually.
She had only seen her once that day in the ER. Santos felt an odd need to see her again. The last time she’d seen her privately had been yesterday morning when they’d left for work together. Garcia had gotten stuck in surgery last night, so Santos had texted her that she was heading home to sleep.
"Apparently administration still believes in miracles," Santos replied, opening a bag of chips.
She had prepared for the seminar that morning by stuffing her backpack with every snack she could find in Whitaker's kitchen cabinet.
"Are you seriously going to eat in here?"
"I just worked a twelve-hour shift. I could eat my own arm."
"Are those my chips?? What else did you steal from my cabinet?"
Santos grinned as she opened her backpack, revealing cookies, gummy candy, granola bars, juice boxes, chips, and peanuts. Ten seconds later Javadi stole one of her candy bars while Mel grabbed the peanuts.
"You people are like fucking vultures," Santos sighed.
"You don't get to complain when I'm the one who paid for all of it!" Whitaker snatched the gummy candy from her dramatically.
Further down sat McKay with Al-Hasimi, Langdon, and a group of nurses. Robby looked like the last person on earth who wanted to be there.
Onstage, a woman in her forties from HR was speaking into a microphone.
"A toxic workplace environment negatively impacts patient safety..."
"That's true," Santos muttered. "Sometimes I think Garcia and Langdon are going to start throwing scalpels at each other."
"I don't think Langdon's brave enough for that," Whitaker whispered.
Santos laughed. Ever since Langdon returned from his ten-month absence, Garcia had not made his life easy. Santos had to work with him daily, although both Robby and Al-Hasimi tried to make sure it wasn't too frequent.
About eight minutes later Trinity started scanning the auditorium again, looking for Garcia, and honestly she didn't have to search long. It was like her eyes were magnetically drawn to the lean silhouette of the arrogant trauma surgeon.
Garcia sat on the opposite side of the auditorium beside Walsh and several trauma surgeons at the far right edge, roughly in the same row as Santos.
Trinity’s gaze lingered on her too long.
A burgundy cardigan was wrapped tightly around Garcia’s frame because the room was cold from the blasting air conditioning. In one hand she held a mug.
Tea.
Santos knew that immediately. Garcia never drank coffee that late.
Walsh was saying something to her and Garcia answered calmly, nodding along. Her attention remained on the woman speaking onstage while she casually picked at something from a small container.
Grapes maybe.
Santos couldn't tell from that distance.
She stared a moment too long.
And then she saw it...
"That little minx," she whispered to herself before pulling out her phone and quickly typing a message.
Garcia felt the vibration. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her pants and glanced at the screen.
nice cardigan...
From the opposite side of the room Santos watched Yolanda lift her head and scan the audience until their eyes met.
Santos smiled, shaking her head with raised brows.
Garcia glanced down at the sweater.
Or rather Santos’ sweater, which Garcia had shamelessly stolen from her closet a few days ago. Trinity had asked about it twice already and Garcia had looked her dead in the eye and claimed she’d never seen it.
liar.
Garcia rolled her eyes.
Santos nearly melted.
A moment later the reply arrived.
Yes, I stole it from your wardrobe, so?
Santos immediately typed back.
you are full of shit, Dr. Garcia..
Garcia huffed under her breath, looking at Santos with a very clear "and what are you gonna do about it?" expression.
Santos smiled viciously.
but you look hot in it
Garcia bit her lower lip trying not to smile.
Just barely.
Almost imperceptibly.
But Santos saw it.
And suddenly she completely stopped hearing anything the HR woman was saying.
now you look sexy when you try not to smile at me
Garcia read the message.
Then calmly sipped her tea, attempting to regain some dignity.
Walsh looked at her suspiciously.
Garcia immediately tilted the phone screen away.
So easy, Santos thought. She was delighted.
"Oh my God," Whitaker whispered. "You're flirting with Garcia during a seminar about professionalism."
"It's called multitasking."
Whitaker looked across the auditorium.
"Is she blushing?"
Garcia actually was slightly flushed. Though maybe that was from the hot tea she was drinking.
With the blush coloring her cheeks she looked absurdly beautiful.
Garcia blushing was a rare sight for Trinity. But every time she caught it, she loved it a little more than she cared to admit.
She sent another text.
you're blushing
The reply came instantly.
You are hallucinating
i can literally see you
Focus on the seminar
Santos looked toward the stage.
The HR woman was currently explaining something about communication between coworkers...
oh, I can communicate just fine. For example, I can tell you I’m currently focused on you, ONLY in that cardigan.
Garcia nearly choked on her tea.
Walsh snapped her head toward her.
"Okay. What the hell is happening?"
"Nothing."
Garcia straightened immediately.
"Are you blushing?"
"Of course not. It's the tea."
Walsh slowly turned her head, scanning the entire auditorium.
And she found Trinity at the exact same second Santos shamelessly popped a chip into her mouth while smirking in their direction.
Walsh raised her eyebrows high.
Santos instantly redirected her attention to the stage with the expression of the world's most innocent citizen.
Garcia’s phone buzzed again.
busted.
Garcia shot her an absolutely murderous look from across the room.
Stop.
why would I do that?
I mean it
you look so beautiful when you're blushing
Garcia stared at the screen and flushed even harder.
Ironically, for someone as beautiful as Garcia, there was one specific compliment she never knew how to handle from Trinity.
Hot?
Sexy?
Those rolled right off her back.
But beautiful...
That was different.
Every single time Santos called her beautiful, Garcia’s cheeks turned dark pink and she looked away like she'd just been caught exposed somehow.
For Garcia it felt intimate.
Dangerously intimate.
The fact that Santos noticed her blushing—that rare moment when her flawless self-control cracked under something as simple as embarrassment—made Yolanda feel startlingly vulnerable.
And there was something almost painfully sweet about that vulnerability.
Cute.
Santos couldn't stop staring at her.
Walsh was openly entertained now.
"You two are disgusting."
"We are texting about work."
"Yoyo. You're red as a tomato. I've literally never seen that on your face before. What did she say? Tell me."
"Nothing."
Garcia turned her phone away quickly like she thought Walsh might physically snatch it from her hand.
Walsh laughed.
"Oh my God. I don't even think I want to know."
Garcia’s phone buzzed again.
you look just as beautiful when you're coming in my mouth
The phone slipped from Garcia’s hands, though she caught it before it hit the floor.
Yolanda froze.
Walsh noticed instantly.
"OH MY GOD."
"Quiet," Dr. Shamsi warned from the row behind them.
Garcia froze completely.
Her face burned even hotter because her own attending had apparently been sitting behind her the entire time while she exchanged filthy messages with an ER resident.
"Was that a sex text during an anti-harassment seminar?!" Walsh whispered, looking like someone who had just received the greatest gift of their life.
Garcia was red all the way to her ears.
"Shhh..."
Across the auditorium McKay finally noticed the disturbance happening in the surgery section.
"What is wrong with Garcia?"
Dana turned suspiciously toward Santos.
Santos ignored her with a perfectly blank expression.
Onstage the HR speaker continued:
"It's important to maintain appropriate professional boundaries in the workplace..."
Whitaker looked at Santos at the exact same moment.
"Did you hear her?"
On the other side of the auditorium Walsh muttered to Garcia.
"You should really fucking listen to this woman."
Garcia’s phone buzzed again.
i've never seen you this flushed unless it's after something intense...
Garcia only replied after a full minute, desperately trying to calm her racing pulse.
I hate you
Santos smiled broadly.
you are lying again
Garcia clenched her jaw.
Walsh was peeking over her shoulder like a vulture.
"Emery. What the fuck."
"You are blushing harder."
"I am not!"
You are impossible
and yet you keep sleeping with me
Unfortunately
don't say it like you don't enjoy it
Garcia looked across the auditorium at her.
Santos gave her an innocent smile.
I do enjoy it
I know you do ❤️
you love it actually. The way I make you come again and again.
and I love when you scream my name... and when you call me baby when you're worn out and sleepy...
Garcia practically stopped hearing the seminar altogether.
All she could hear was her own pulse pounding in her ears.
and when you sleep wrapped around me at night
Every word Trinity wrote hit with devastating force because... all of it was true.
Yolanda was fully aware of what was happening between them.
In theory they had labeled it "casual sex" and never discussed it again. No conversations. No definitions. No questions about the future.
But the truth was far more complicated.
Because something between them had grown.
Slowly. Lazily. Almost invisibly.
Like those mornings after brutal night shifts when neither of them wanted to get out of bed yet.
Yolanda knew how much she loved Trinity’s presence. Knew she had stolen that burgundy cardigan specifically because it smelled like Santos. In the freezing, over-air-conditioned hospital, that scent calmed her more than she would ever willingly admit.
She looked at Santos now across the rows separating them.
And something in Trinity’s expression completely changed.
The amusement disappeared.
The teasing vanished.
That shameless confidence melted away.
In Santos’ dark eyes appeared a quiet, devastating sincerity.
Rare.
Dangerously honest.
Like for one brief moment Trinity stopped flirting, stopped joking, and simply allowed Yolanda to see everything she normally hid from everyone else.
And that hit Garcia harder than anything else.
Her phone buzzed again.
and when you steal my clothes and wear them...
Yolanda couldn't look away from the younger woman.
Her heart sped up again.
or when you curl against me after a bad shift like your body already decided I'm safe enough to let go
Yolanda felt her throat tighten.
Santos saw all of her.
Every weakness.
Every moment where the cold, untouchable Dr. Garcia simply needed somewhere safe to rest.
She put her phone down, needing a moment to think about what Santos had written. And Santos had written the truth. She liked all those things Santos had mentioned — more than she should have been willing to admit, even to herself.
She tried to refocus on the woman giving the lecture.
"In clinical environments, it is crucial not to hold resentment toward coworkers after mistakes are made..."
Santos lowered her phone slightly, typing with unusual softness now.
this is literally about us
you’re proof people can recover from workplace...situation
Garcia instantly understood the reference.
A warm smile returned to her face.
Santos was referring to her first day in trauma when she'd accidentally driven a scalpel directly into Garcia’s foot during a procedure.
I can't stay mad at you for very long
you took me home that day...
You made up for all your sins
Onstage the speaker spread her hands dramatically while concluding the panel:
"Let's remember that relationships between coworkers should remain professional..."
Santos glanced down at her phone and sent one final message where all that sincerity blended once more with her shameless, teasing charm.
come home with me after this Dr. Garcia and I'll show you how professional I can be
Garcia read the text and looked toward her.
Santos’ brows lifted suggestively, amused.
Garcia laughed softly under her breath.
"Oh my God, you two act like you're in high school. Why are you even still doing this?" Walsh asked referring to thier 'relationship'
"She's... funny," Garcia admitted, finishing the last sip of her tea.
Walsh snorted, still staring toward Santos.
"I'm willing to bet this has very little to do with her sense of humor."
She looked back at her friend and noticed the blush still lingering there.
"Oh my God... you like her?"
"Fuck off."
Walsh laughed, staring at her in complete disbelief.
And then Garcia replied, allowing herself one small hidden smile.
You are the reason HR has these meetings