Work Text:
It started with a google search - as things often start.
Trinity had been in her new apartment for one month, two weeks and 3 days. Had given the spare room to Huckleberry one month and 2 days ago. Now she was looking at her bank account, her first paycheck landing like a drop into her debit card.
Two thousand three hundred forty nine dollars and sixty-nine cents.
Nice.
She had paid forward the rent three months with the money stored in the bank account made of hush money and blood money and trial money that had gotten her through UCLA's medical program. The many zeroes had dwindled over the years of medical school, relying on it to pay the bills. But it was still a solid chunk, even with letting her parents access it and sending some to Gabe every other month for his stupid stunts.
She wasn't kidding when she told Huckleberry she could afford to have him in the apartment. That rent was needless. That he was fine and to just shut the fuck up about. So she sat down and paid the utility bills and sent some money off to her youngest brother who had broken his wrist, and sat there staring at the remaining zeroes in her bank account.
She slapped on Dennis's door.
“Get up!”
“It's our day off!” His voice was scratchy and rough, and it was a Sunday which meant he was likely asleep or attempting it.
“We are going to Target and the grocery store and probably also Macy's hurry up.”
Trinity slipped into her room, pulling on loose cargos and a size too small tee with some faded LA metal band she'd seen between gymnastics and med courses. Dennis met her in the hall, doing a poor impression of bushy-tailed eager lad, forlornly patting down the back of his hair.
Suzie was a wonderful hunk of metal, three dents and a peeling paint job.
Dennis had laughed at her Subaru when they'd gotten into the parking lot that first night. She introduced them with the countenance of a God and her favorite angel, patting her hood as if she hadn't been the cause of most of its scuffles. Dennis had been pleasantly surprised by her mastery of stick-shift, the smooth pulls and turns of her hands between the wheel and the shifter.
The only downside was the cd player. Dennis flipped through her collection of CDs, before pouting.
“You have nothing good.”
“Need I remind you who pays for gas?” Trinity pulled them onto a turnpike, pushing Suzie up the road with another swift upshot.
Dennis huffed and snuck in a CD titled “Floor”.
Trinity blinked her body, going tense as the opening rifts of Dani's floor routine song came on. Dennis laughed.
“Kesha fan?”
“Shut up and switch it.”
“No, the song is good!”
Trinity nearly brake checked them both in a curb, then swiftly reminded herself that going into The Pitt on their day off was a bad idea.
She stayed silent as the CD played on, song after song, routines she had memorized.
A back tuck there, a layout here.
All of them culminating in Trinity's disaster of a floor routine, she was a balls-to-the-wall vaulter and beam technician through and through, and her Floor routine was simply to keep her All Around status. She said none of this to Dennis.
***
They pulled into Target first and Trinity turned to Dennis.
“No Men's 2 in 1 or 3 in 1 or 17 in 1. I refuse to let you step foot in my house with anything that even remotely resembles something we would put on a dog.”
Huckleberry's eyes lit up, “Can we get a dog?”
“No.”
They gathered a cart and spent more times in the men's section than Trinity thought was possible.
“Here,” she shoved a comb and brush into the cart, then turned to snag a set of loofahs, “okay hair, then pomade and body wash and deodorant.”
“Trin this is kind of alot?” He shuffled his feet, and looked up and down the aisle as if he was caught doing something wrong.
There was shaving equipment, a soft green hoodie that Trinity had tossed in when he looked at it too long. Three big packs of gum, for both of them she said, a mega pack of men's socks and a tee shirt with a mouse on it.
“Eucalyptus?” She shoved the open cap under his nose which he wrinkled.
“Erhm--”
“Coconut? No, thats gross. Nope.”
Damn, he sort of liked that one.
“Here -- Ocean Mist, old spice.”
Dennis blinked and smiled, Trin smiled back.
It wasn't toothy or joking, but it was small, and under the aggressive fluorescence of Target she looked so much younger.
It made him want to throw an arm around her shoulder and carry all the bags in one hand. To glare at the people in the room who whispered Langdon's name when she walked by.
Trinity threw in the matching conditioner, body wash, handsoap, and lotion into the cart picking the largest size on the shelf.
Dennis pushed the cart as he tossed in some deodorant and chucked in a pomade that had Trinity nodding in approval. They shoved and talked up each aisle, the cart growing bigger under they would up at the electronics.
Trinity had a switch, and it was often hooked up to the TV with Mario Kart or Stardew pinging on the screen after dinner. Dennis watched from the corner of the couch, reading through texts and notes and papers. It was nice, Trinity didn't really play shooting games or horror ones, she liked Zelda and Pokémon and quiet broad exploratory games, which made couch study time easy. Unless Trinity was stuck in a Zelda dungeon.
Trinity grabbed a set of two controllers, “I hate using the small ones.” As if that made any sense, she had normal controller at home, he hid his smile.
Then she stopped to grab a new game off the shelf, something with a campfire and ghosts on the front.
“Grab a game if you want.” She shrugged, “Doesn't have to be a two-player.”
Dennis hesitated, before reaching up for a download code for Skyrim.
Trinity rolled her eyes so hard, but another smile tugged at her lips. She bullied him into a new pair of jeans and a structured black jean jacket and pjs that didn't look like he hauled them from a garbage can.
The grocery store was easy - milk, eggs, butter, bacon, ground beef, chicken, rice, pasta, Ramen, peanut butter and jelly and bread, a bag of apples, chunky peanut butter, off-brand nutella, three bottles of wine, a case of white claw, a case of Mike's Hard, a tub of vanilla ice cream, three different candy bars, frozen shrimp, frozen vegetables, a Digornio pizza and a Red Baron pizza because they kept fighting about it, two bags of pizza rolls, Jimmy Dean sausage that Dennis wouldn't let go, pork that Trinity spent too long mulling over, and five minutes of Trinity bitching about the state of fresh vegetables and analyzing each bit of produce like a burn unit victim, and pancake mix.
Trinity swiped her card, and Dennis felt ready to throw up at the price.
Macy's came last.
They dropped all the groceries at home and split an apple and some pizza rolls, chugging water between Dennis hauling his Target goods to his room, Trinity had gotten him a shower caddy that suctioned to the wall where he stored the assorted bottles. The sad bar of soap and a 3-in-1 put into the trash can while Trinity grinned, humming taps as the lid closed.
“Why are we going to Macy's?” He finally ventured.
“Because I want a new bottle of perfume, and you need bed sheets.”
Trinity had a queen in her bedroom, complete with a beautiful cream and black bed set her mother had gifted her before her move. The bedframe was metal with an almost vine-like motif and mattress from her Dad she said. Her parents seemed to believe that part of growing up was having a full bed spread and a dozen pillow shams. She had shelves up around the room that had been Dennis' problem the first day he had off. Meanwhile Dennis was in a full she'd hauled across the country and yellow pinstripe sheets and comforter from her university days, along with a rickety desk she'd brought alongside it all. He had nothing else, except an end table he snagged two neighborhoods over and hand-carried home, then spent three hours in the apartment parking lot sanding down the teeth marks around the edge.
But it felt wrong for Dennis to be in the old sheets and blankets she had absolutely thrown up on.
They went to the household department first.
“Nothing navy for fucks sake!” Trinity rolled her eyes, as Dennis plucked a sheet set from the shelf.
He grabbed the dark grey instead then turned to the literal dozens of options. Trinity haunted his steps, puffing at ones he strayed too close to until they both landed one a comforter and pillow set, a dark green windowpane and matching pillows. He tucked them under his arms, as Trinity grabbed him a new set of pillows.
They paid and had them held at customer service then trotted down to the perfume department. Trinity messing around on her phone.
“I'll pay you back.”
“Don't worry.”
“This is so expensive.”
“Don't worry about my money.”
It was hard not to worry, Dennis thought, with the careless way she swiped her card.
Maybe she was rich?
It would make sense, but he'd been in her car and the way her eyebrows pinched together when Javadi rolled up in the parking lot with her white Jeep. She mentioned she went to undergrad on a combo financial and athletic scholarship.
Maybe she won a small lotto?
Dennis watched Trinity hummed and hawed through the perfume aisle before landing on something vaguely floral and spicy in a dark bottle that looked sexy and expensive. Paying for it smoothly with that beat up debit card, until they returned to customer service for Dennis's bedding.
“I didn't really think you'd be a perfume girl.”
Trinity shrugged, “Its my only really pricey vice honestly, if I'm gonna spend frivolous money it should be on something nice.”
When they landed at home she helped him rotate the bed and rearrange the furniture, flitting the sheets and pillow shams. Then Trinity left and returned with a bag.
There were a few random sized picture frames, an anatomical sketch of a rat, and a spray bottle.
“Keeps your room fresh,” Trinity offered, “makes your sheets smell nice. Anyway, I'm gonna go make the pizzas and watch Glee,” then hustled out of the room, as if embarrassed.
Dennis sprayed it onto his pillow - it was warm and spicy, not unlike her perfume. The rest looked thrifted and the picture frames could do with some glue. But they were nice. He slipped a few photos inside - his grandparents, his brothers, his favorite horse. All the things he'd left behind.
Dennis laid in the bedroom, with a 2010s music track wafting under his door, in new bedding and surrounded by scent and a new hoodie laid over his chair.
Trinity Santos.
He opened his phone, and typed it in.
BERKELEY NATIVE SANTOS TAPPED FOR JUNIOR OLYMPICS
SANTOS, FOURTEEN AND BETTER THAN YOU
SANTOS HIP BROKEN! RIO OUT OF THE PICTURR?
SANTOS COMMITTED TO UCLA GYMNASTICS
UCLA GYMNAST PINGED FOR OLYMPIC TRIALS.
BEAM TECHNICIAN SANTOS GOLD AGAIN
NEW FINDINGS IN SEXUAL ABUSE ALLEGATIONS
TRI-FECTA OF VICTORY - BILES, SANTOS, AND HERNANDEZ
SANTOS I BEAM DISMOUNT VALIDATED
GYMNASTICS SHAKEUP - A MONEY GRAB?
SANTOS SETTLEMENT AND THE FUTURE OF THE ME-TOO MOVEMENT IN GYMNASTICS
SANTOS TO RETIRE IN FAVOR OF MEDICAL SCHOOL
OLYMPIC FAVORITE DROPPING OUT OF TRIALS
Dennis flipped through the articles.
Sexual abuse allegations. Five gymnasts stepping forward. Trials waived for settlement money. Olympics. UCLA. Trinity landing a twisting double layout beam dismount to the roar of an entire audience while the announcers shrieked into their microphones. Shots of Trinity in walking in and out of court rooms - firm face, clenched jaw, eyes ahead.
Dennis sat in the darkness of the room.
Trinity was making pizza, watching Glee, just ten steps away. Trinity who swiped her card. Trinity who let a man into her house and paid for his hair pomade. Trinity who fucking “hated” kids, but had become a favorite to grab for the youngest in their department.
He shoved his phone into his pocket.
Stood and stretched, then went into the living room where Trinity had a pair of glasses on the tip of her nose, furiously texting. Dennis flopped next to her, throwing his feet up on the milk crates that used to house his shit.
“We need a table here.”
“We can go thrift one.”
“Okay,” Trinity sighed, letting her phone flop against her chest, “No glass.”
“That's just begging for us to drunkenly fall into it.”
“Speak for yourself Huckleberry I'm smooth as a cat.”
She was, and Dennis didn't argue, and instead reached over to cover her legs with the blanket more fully. He moved to get the pizza, cut them up and got them each drinks from the fridge, then splayed back out on the couch, with Trinity munching as Sue Sylvster once again tried banning the Glee club and Lea Michelle sang some Broadway showtime that Dennis had never heard while Trinity did her best to not hum along.
They sat, apartment, two kinds of frozen pizza before them as Dennis Whittaker for the first time in his adult life, felt himself utterly relaxed in the safety of a home.
***
Their next day off was spent in the house playing Mario Kart when Trinity's phone began to ring.
SIMONE
In big bold letters.
Dennis tried not to feel starstruck even as Trinity groaned.
“Oh fuck me.” Then picked it up, “Go for T.”
He paused the game.
“New York?” Her brows stuck together, “Yeah no way, I'm in the middle of my first year - yeah in Pittsburgh, Aly knows -- and Laurie.”
Dennis waited, thumbs messing with the controller.
“Look it sounds good but I can't get away. I'm pulling 80 hour weeks these days, I'm lucky I get a day off every 8.” She paused, “Listen, no wait - tell Dani that I'll try to go okay. But I can't exactly skip a day at a hospital when someone might die.”
A pause.
“Shuttup, bye.”
Trinity hung up then resumed the game as if nothing happened.
“So...?”
“What?”
“Who was that?”
“Friend, there is gonna be a big graduation party in New York, someone is gonna be a lawyer.”
“You gonna go?”
“Probably not, getting two days off in a row is for R3s and up.” Trinity joked as she drifted off the edge of Rainbow Road.
“You can't ask Robby?”
“I'm not asking that man for jackshit. Drop it Huck, I'm not going.”
Trinity looked tense.
Dennis didn't bring it up.
***
The problem was Trinity was always tense, she ran her miles and went to the ED, she hissed and spat and looked utterly annoyed at all times by everything and everyone.
She was meal prepping for them both, grumbling about his food intake and exercise habits as if she didn't live off Monster energy, protein bars and spite. The few meals they got in during rotations were freezer burned from the cheap Tupperware Dennis bought in an attempt to help stock their house.
“We buy food and let it go to waste.” Trinity grumbled, making a flash stir fry with veggies two seconds from wilting and the last of the pork and chicken from the freezer. She dumped soy sauce into the pan, then smashed up peppers. Dennis’ eyes watered and he mentally noted to stock some chocolate milk in the fridge for when Trinity inevitably burned his tongue off.
“We just don't cook enough, twelve hour days do that.”
Trinity moved in the kitchen like it owed her money, flashing knives and plates and bottles, rarely measuring her spices instead subsiding on scent and humming and eyeballing. She portioned pork and beef and chicken to exact ratios and squinted at boxes to tap into her phone the exact carbs and weight. To Dennis’ annoyance it ended up immaculate 70% of the time. She tossed the rice noodles into the pan, steam filling the kitchen and making the baby hairs around her face coil and fold around her forehead.
Dennis smiled as she plated them both a hearty round, neither had eaten more than coffee, energy drinks and a cupcake today.
“The rest will be for the next few days.”
Trinity had Tupperware set up already and a measuring scale, to evenly distribute the food.
He'd never seen her work the kitchen without it. She was militant about her protein to carbs ratio, kept track of calories and portion sizes.
“You're too skinny.”
“You sound like my Mom.”
Trinity eyed him up and down, “You should build more muscle, it'll help with the studying cause your brain will actually work." She took another bite of food, "You're skinny naturally, lucky bastard," she poked her own roll of fat around he stomach, what the fuck, “but you don't exactly scream healthy.”
“Thanks ever so much,” sarcasm dripping off his tongue.
“We can do some carb and protein forward meals for you,” Trinity continued, “and I have weights.”
“What?”
“In my room, I'll bring them to the living room after dinner. You can use them.”
She hauled them into the living room, adjustable dumbells, some resistance bands, a yoga mat, a folding weight bench clearly made for small spaces, and a pull up bar that she made him help her set up in the hallway.
“Is it too high for you?” As if Dennis hadn't seen her uneven bars routine, but that was years ago, and he had never once categorized Trinity as small in his mind until he looked down at her and then up at the bar, realizing she needed to jump.
She laughed and from her standing position leapt to grab the bar one handed, her over large shirt slipping and under the soft layer of fat under her stomach Dennis could see a ripple of muscle. Trinity held the bar on handed, grinning down at him, and swung her hips into a neat dismount - no flips or tucks or layouts but only a blind man couldn't see the ease she felt in the air, how she landed whisper soft on light knees and a puff of air.
He started including small weight sessions at night before bed, while Trinity corrected his technique from the couch.
She ran in the mornings he knew, a weighted vest around her back. She did pull ups and sit ups and lazy calisthenics.
Trinity Santos hadn't lost a touch.
But she was restless.
So Dennis turned to google.
GYM
GYMNASTIC NEAR ME
ADULT GYMNASTICS NEAR ME
NO SEX GYMNASTICS GYM
PROFESSIONAL GYMNASTICS
PITTSBURGH GYMNAST GYMS NEAR ME
“Hey Trin,” Dennis called, “did you see that news story about the gymnastics gym that is raising money for their kids to go to a competiton?”
Trinity was drying her hair.
“No?”
“Yeah it's like 15 minutes from here, seems pretty cool.”
Trinity shuffled her feet, "What's the name?”
Dennis smiled.
“Pittsburgh Gymnastic Emporium.” he turned to show her the gofundme and the website. She looked it over, eyes driving to the volunteers needed and paused.
***
Trinity leaned against the front desk, feet kicked out in front of her, smoothie straw between her lips.
“Santos.”
The woman had a Russian lilt to her voice and Trinity turned.
“Olga Solovyova.” Trinity breathed out. “I thought USAG put you out to pasture.”
She'd met her, twice, and both times Trinity had pulled gold medals from her girls.
“Not in my own gym they won't.” Olga gestured for them to walk together. “You quit.”
“Retired.”
“Quit.”
The word hung in the air.
“I'm an Emergency Medical Doctor,” Trinity defended, “I have two world gold medals, three national titles, three collegiate national titles and a dozen international golds.”
“No Olympic gold.”
This bitch.
Trinity stopped at the beam.
“Santos I.”
“I can't throw that.” It was the peak of her form, the peak of her physicality, it proved she had it for an Olympic comeback, proved that Trinity Santos was headed right for gold and wasn't going to stop until she had it.
“Not anymore.” Olga smiled. "Seems to be no one can."
She had thrown it exactly five times in competition, had torn her body up to do so, ruined it. Against her coach's wishes. It wasn't an instant ban, but there were words floating that it could be - a double twisting layout beam dismount had been attempted before but never proven. Until Trinity Santos spent the better part of her undergrad perfecting the move. Until Trinity Santos spent the better second half of undergrad in and out of court rooms and buried in kinesiology texts and desperately trying to keep her grades for med school.
Trinity spent the better half of junior and senior year getting her ass kicked in every possible way.
She hadn't heard of anyone doing it since herself, a girl from Kazakhstan had tried during the last Olympic cycle and bailed out. So far the move seemed to be limited to herself and Suni exactly once via a video she got of her training. Usually attempts were made at the collegiate level by now, but the Santos I flew under the radar, no Olympic debut of the move. It remained shrouded in mystery. Her solo technique that not a single soul had touched - yet.
“Are you happy that no one has thrown one since yourself."
Trinity tried not to be smug, and failed.
“Good. Fire still there.”
Trinity ground her teeth.
"What are you getting at?”
“My girls, they have their coach's - steady, tough, fair. But they lack a dynamic force in the gym. You come teach rotational courses, uneven bars, vault, beam, floor - and you may use the gym at your leisure 24/7, no fee.”
“That's it?”
“Yes Dr. Santos. You teach structured courses focusing on specifics, for most of the mid-level students, and you can spend as much time falling on your ass off that beam as you'd like. Deal?”
“Anything I like?”
Olga smiled.
“As long as they can use it in comp, you can teach it.”
Trinity opened her phone, “Whenever?” she could ask to block off a day a week for a short period of time. Fold it into her mandatory physical therapy appointments she'd been neglecting, the hospital would have to honor it then. It was all so plausible.
“As long as it is a blocked off consistent time for a month, yes.”
Trinity looked around the gym, the beams, the bars, the rings, the pools of foam, the faint dusting of chalk on every surface. Olga, arms crossed, smiling faintly. Trinity breathed in.
“Deal.”
“Welcome to the team Coach Trinity.”