Archive of Our Own

“Come on, I watched all your stupid romcoms,” Trinity grouses. “It’s pride month and you are legally obligated, as an ally, to watch whatever queer nonsense my overworked heart desires. Plus Garcia and I are in an off-again phase so I can’t watch them with her.” She makes a pouty face, which doesn’t come naturally to her, but over a year of living with Dennis has taught her that it works on him anyway.

He gives her the big sad mouse eyes for a second and then shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fair enough. For the record, Serendipity is a legit good movie, though.” Trinity raises her eyebrows but doesn’t argue.

She picks up a stack of DVD cases and then fans them out for display on the table in front of the tv, pushing aside old takeout containers. “Tonight’s choices for our double feature—” Dennis groans —“HUSH. For our mandatory double feature— are The Handmaiden, Pride, God’s Own Country, and Moonlight.” She looks at him gravely. “Choose wisely.”

Dennis actually ends up loving the double feature. He picks Pride (“Is it about the month?” he asks, and Trinity just snorts and doesn’t answer) and Moonlight (“That won the Oscar or something, right?”). She decides to play them in the other order, since Moonlight needs a little more attention to the face acting and Dennis looks like he might only have one movie’s worth of full attention in him.

They eat boiled pierogi from S&D, and Trinity sneaks glances at Dennis out of the corner of her eye while they watch. She’d braced herself for the possibility that he might be bored, but he gets into the film pretty fast, smiling at the moments when the characters connect. His eyes are riveted to the screen when Chiron and Kevin first kiss. She grins, glad her first instinct was right that he’d see the tenderness in it. He’s such a Huckleberry. He can’t resist some medical commentary occasionally, which is fair, Trinity always has it in the back of her head watching movies too. At the end, he’s smiling. “Round two?” Trinity asks, beginning to feel the effects of a 14-hour shift herself, and willing to concede that maybe she shouldn’t force her roomie to watch two movies in one night, even if it is pride month. But Dennis looks surprisingly enthusiastic.

“Sure, if it’s as good as the first one,” he says. “Ice cream?”

They finish a couple pints. When Joe first appears on screen, all nervous, pale, and inexperienced, Dennis darts some suspicious glances at Trinity. “What,” she says, innocent.

“Did you pick this because he looks like me?” he hisses, as if they’re in a movie theater and other people can hear them.

“I picked this because it is a classic of contemporary cinema,” she says. “Also, you’re not that good looking. Get over yourself.”

All the same, he seems to follow Joe’s appearances on screen with special fascination. Interesting.

—

Yolanda doesn’t return her texts, which is annoying but whatever, so she goes out with Mel more often. Dennis tags along sometimes, when he’s not at the farm. By the time the first truly stellar June weather arrives, she’s feeling feisty, so she decides to push her luck a little bit and drags her pet allies to Mary’s. It’s busy and everyone wants to flirt with the gender-ambiguous bartender. She makes Mel get the drinks and shoves Dennis toward a table just as its previous occupants are getting up.

“Cool place,” he says. “I like the heart shaped tables.” Trinity can see the gears turning in his head. “Is this a gay bar?”

“Don’t worry, I get to bring guests,” she quips. “Oh, thanks, Mel.” She takes her whisky sour. “What’d you get?”

Mel looks quizzically at her own glass. “I’m not sure?” she says. “Um, I asked the bartender to make me a mocktail. They asked what flavors I like, so I tried to think of some flavors, and I said, uh, grape, cherry, lime, and lemon.” She takes a sip. Her face is completely blank. Trinity used to think that meant something mysterious, but now she knows it just means Mel’s thinking hard enough that she’s forgotten to spend extra cycles on having a facial expression. “It’s good,” she says. “Sort of… lemonade. With something else? Almond?”

“Hey, they’re showing a movie in back,” Dennis says. “You wanna go watch?”

“We just got a table,” Trinity complains. “I don’t know. What movie is it?”

Dennis puts his beer down and goes to investigate. Mel’s eyes follow him. “You guys are still getting along?”

“Yeah, turns out he’s actually pretty cool when we’re not drowning under the weight of infinite charting,” Trinity says. She looks sharply at Mel. “Do not tell him I said that.”

“Oh, yeah, no, I won’t,” Mel says. She flashes a smile. Trinity loves that sudden flare, like the sun through trees. “I’m glad you’re friends. And, um.” She ducks her head, nervous. “I’m glad we’re friends?” Her voice rises at the end, making it a question, and Trinity is annoyed at the open bid for reassurance but secretly pleased that Mel wants it from her.

“Me too,” she says, and clinks her glass with Mel’s before taking a big gulp of her drink. “You’re fun when you let your hair down.”

“Oh,” Mel says, sounding pleased. “So are you.”

“Hey, are you and your girlfriend gonna take that whole table?” somebody with electric green hair hollers, leaning towards them out of the crowd. “Cause we got four people. There’s seats at the bar.”

Trinity is still deciding whether to correct the notion that Mel is her girlfriend or just start a fight when Dennis comes back, eyes bright. “Okay, I found out it’s some Canadian movie from the nineties. Better Than Chocolate, I think? It’s just starting, there’s still a couple tables.”

Sometimes the universe sends you messages, Trinity thinks. “All right, that’s required reading. Saddle up, buckaroos.” She vacates the table with an intentionally obnoxious bow to Green Hair and follows her friends toward the screen.

They do captions, which is good because it’s hard to hear in a bar, and it’s fun despite the crowd noise. She likes seeing her friends’ reactions. Mel actually blushes during the painting scene, which makes Trinity think some thoughts that she immediately tries to push out of her head. Dennis looks cheerful throughout, and actually applauds when it ends.

“Whoa, it’s almost midnight,” Mel says, her face lit up by her phone. Her expression goes from surprised to melancholy. “I guess I’m just too used to the routine with Becca. She’s with Adam so much now.”

Trinity knows what it’s like to measure the hours by someone else’s time. She puts an arm around Mel. “You are learning to be cool,” she says. “Cool people forget what time it is.”

To her surprise and amusement, Dennis puts an arm around Mel from the other side. “Yeah, don’t worry about Becca,” he says. “You deserve fun too.” He’s all bouncy, Trinity thinks, like a battery charged up with happiness. Very interesting. Now that she thinks about it, she’s pretty sure Dennis was supposed to be at the farm tonight. Did he cancel so he could come to a gay bar with them?

“Thanks, guys,” Mel says. “I know. This was fun.” Her smile flashes again, the one that makes Trinity’s heart feel warm in her chest. Trinity squeezes her shoulders and then lets her go. Let the evening end on a good note, she thinks. Don’t push it.

But when the three of them turn two different directions to walk home, Dennis sidles over to her and says, “She likes you,” and Trinity suddenly feels like she’s been caught in the headlights of his farm girl’s pickup.

“Yeah, she’s Mel. She likes everybody.” She digs her hands into her pockets.

“Yeah, I meant—“

“I know what you meant, Huckleberry,” she says, and it comes out soft, not mean like she wanted it to. Dennis, to his credit, lets it drop. To his discredit, he immediately starts talking about the medical complications of covering yourself in non-body-safe paint, and Trinity groans. She’s created a monster.

—

They somehow run through all of Trinity’s favorite queer movies with half of June still to go, so they start on Trinity’s watchlist of stuff she’s been meaning to get around to. Call Me By Your Name annoys her so much in the first twenty minutes that she makes Dennis turn it off, which he looks slightly disappointed about, and she wonders if he’ll finish it on his own later. The Half of It is gorgeous, though, and Trinity actually tears up a little bit and then punches Dennis in the arm when he tries to hand her the box of tissues. Bottoms rules so hard that she makes Dennis watch it twice; he negotiates for some of her leftover pancit in exchange, which she deems fair. They’re doing double features every time now, burning through her list pretty fast. She thinks about having to tell Dennis that they’ve gotten to the last film, and she frowns. Maybe she should ask Tumblr for recommendations.

At what ought to be a lunchtime but is instead during one of their shifts, Dennis comes up to her, hands her a granola bar, and says, “How about Fire Island tonight?”

“What?” Trinity says, wrenching her brain out of the differential for a swollen tongue. “Fire Island is in New York.”

“The movie,” he says, grinning in that shit-eating way he always does when he’s one up on her. “I think Margaret Cho is in it. You like her, right?”

She sighs a long-suffering sigh and considers this. “I do appreciate that you have done your queer lady homework,” she says, with a grudgingly approving nod. “Okay. But you’re buying dinner.” She walks away before his indignant scoff can turn into an actual objection.

Suspiciously, Fire Island turns out mostly not to be about Margaret Cho. Instead, it seems to be about a bunch of gay dudes. Very fit ones, she notes. She looks over at Dennis. He’s positively rapt. Very very interesting.

“Wait a minute,” she says. “Is this just Pride and Prejudice?”

“Shh,” Dennis says, not taking his eyes off Conrad Ricamora.

“Huh,” she says. She watches him messily devour the last of her avocados with a lot more tongue than seems strictly necessary. She grabs another slice of pizza.

—

The third Sunday, Dennis does go down to the farm, which Trinity kind of hates but at least he’s doing it less often these days. She wants company, so she invites Mel to go with her to a drag brunch, which she immediately regrets when Mel shows up in a short little floral number Trinity didn’t even know she owned and some sort of clunky heels that make her legs look a mile long. Trinity is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. She didn’t even remember her Docs.

“I have brought shame upon the name of lesbianism this day,” she mutters to herself. Or she thinks she does, but an older butch nearby also waiting for her date hears Trinity and looks up, following her gaze. She chuckles.

“It’s okay,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Just tell her how pretty she looks.” She smiles encouragingly. Trinity wants to be mad, but she does actually feel her heart pounding in her chest, so she just nods back and gives a thumbs up with a tight expression.

Her heart is still pounding when she walks up to Mel and says, “Hey. You look pretty.” For a moment, Mel looks blank, and Trinity feels a spike of fear, but then one of those big golden smiles spreads across Mel’s face and sends warmth all the way down to Trinity’s fingertips and pinky toes.

“Thanks,” she says. “I don’t really get to dress up much. It’s nice.” She becomes suddenly flustered. “Uh, you look pretty too.”

“I look like a washed-up garage band merged with a gremlin,” she says, unable to help herself. “Sorry. I’m just in my usual.”

Mel cocks her head. “You always look pretty,” she says, not argumentatively, but just as if it’s a true fact about the world, and she’s politely surprised that Trinity doesn’t know it. “Wanna sit?”

It turns out the reason Mel was excited to come to drag brunch, which Trinity somehow missed on the website, is that this particular event features drag for dogs. This means zillions of tiny dogs in even tinier rainbow tutus, rainbow sunglasses, rainbow feather boas, and rainbow scarves. There’s also one very well-mannered pit bull wearing an entire rainbow dress with a sequined train, and she only steps on it twice.

“What even is drag for dogs?” Trinity says. “Dogs don’t know what gender is.” She looks at Mel. “Do they?”

But Mel is lost in the sheer joy of seeing adorable creatures dressed in fabulous outfits, and she doesn’t hear. Trinity allows herself a good long gaze at Mel instead: the tease of the ruffled hem; the romance of the sweetheart neckline; the devastating way the fabric clings to Mel’s stomach and quivers as she laughs.

When the runway has cleared, brunch is served, and the room breathes. Trinity purses her lips, wondering how long the silence will go, and whose job it is to break it. But Mel jumps in as soon as the server departs, chattering about the dog she had as a kid (a shelter mutt, of fucking course it was, Trinity thinks), and whether she might get an apartment that allows dogs, maybe over in Bloomfield. That gets Trinity talking about the neighborhood, and then telling Mel about Unblurred, the big art crawl that Mel has somehow never been to, and then while she’s meaning to sell her on going to it next month she ends up describing a piece she saw last month, this 3D hanging mobile model of Pittsburgh’s rivers that she absolutely loved. And there’s a moment where she realizes she’s doing it, and— well, with most people, she’d ordinarily call herself cringe and change the subject.

But she doesn’t. Mel tells her about how much she wants to go to the Calder Gardens in Philly, because she’s always loved Calder’s mobiles. They talk about the bus trip. Mel calls the server back to bring Trinity some sugar cubes for her coffee. Trinity rescues Mel’s napkin from under the table and bumps her head, and Mel says in a doofy voice, “Uh oh, I better check you for a concussion,” and mimes looking in her eyes with a strip of toast for a ophthalmoscope, which makes Trinity laugh. When they hug goodbye, her stomach dips, but like some kind of mind reader, Mel says into her ear, “I’ll see you at work.”

It’s fine, Trinity tells herself. I just need another hookup. I’ll get over this and it’ll be fine.

But she doesn’t text Yolanda that weekend, and when Dennis comes home, he wants to watch Portrait of a Lady on Fire, so Trinity just stares at Adèle Haenel’s wheat-colored hair for two hours and thinks, Oh, I am fucked. 

—

“Hey, uh, I heard that new movie is on streaming now,” Dennis says a couple days later, poking his head around her door. Trinity is nursing a migraine in bed and wondering if she could get the hospital to replace all of its fluorescent lighting before her shift tomorrow, so she’s not in the mood for guessing games.

“Being vague is annoying, Huckleberry,” she yells. “Try again with all the important information.”

There’s a long enough pause that she frowns and looks up. Dennis’s cheeks have turned pink. Huh.

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” he says. “Um, it has one of the Skarsgårds in it? And that guy from The Old Guard, the bad guy. I think it’s about a gay biker gang.”

Trinity sits all the way up, not quite believing her ears. “Pillion,” she says. She’s pretty sure it’s about BDSM; from the tint of Dennis’s face, she’s guessing he knows that too. “Okay,” she says. “For gays on bikes, I will put on pants. Get out while I change. And give me your frozen peas.”

By the time she’s dressed, Dennis has set out a bag of frozen peas, a pair of sunglasses, and what looks like a glass of homemade smoothie. Her roomie is not a good cook by anyone’s measure, but he does make an excellent smoothie. “Thanks,” she mumbles, surprised. “You don’t have to bribe me, you know. I’ll always watch gay stuff.”

Dennis’s brow furrows for a second, like he’s confused. “I know,” he says. “You just looked like you needed it.”

Trinity shakes her head and starts pulling up the movie. “You’re such a Rose.”

“Like, from The Golden Girls?” Dennis says, mulling it over. “Okay, that could be a compliment. Thanks. I think.”

“You’ve seen The Golden Girls.” Trinity side-eyes him, cautiously delighted.

“Yeah, we had television in Nebraska,” he says. “I even watched ER. Come on, put the movie on.”

At first, Pillion seems like a goofy, sort of saccharine flick; she sees the resemblance between Colin’s skittishness and the way Dennis was last year. He’s outgrown it now, but the similarity softens her towards the film a bit. She sips her smoothie and tries to be patient.

It turns out she doesn’t have to wait long, because pretty soon, Colin is on his knees in an alleyway licking both boots and cock. She tenses, wondering if this will be a bridge too far for Dennis, and turns to look at him to see if he’s uncomfortable.

Dennis looks gobsmacked. Flabbergasted. His mouth has fallen open as he bends toward the glowing images. His right hand is gripping his own leg so hard he might leave marks, and his left has drifted forward across the floor as if he could reach inside the screen. He is practically vibrating, heart cracked open and rainbow pouring in. She can almost see a ray of light descending from the heavens and hear angels singing. It’s what she imagines she looked like the first time she watched Bound.

She is physically watching her friend realize he’s queer in real time.

Heartwarmed, though she would never ever admit it, she curls up in a corner of the couch and enjoys two hours of pure, unadulterated magic. By the end, her migraine is gone.

—

Even though she’s desperate to rib him about it, Trinity gives Dennis until the next morning before she starts in on him. She’s keyed up and smug, and she can’t help noticing that Dennis seems to have an extra spring in his step. Robby even comments on it, clapping him on the shoulder with an “I see we’re having a good morning, huh, Whitaker,” and that’s bait too delicious for her to resist.

She sidles over to Dennis while he’s looking at the board, close enough that probably no one else will hear, and elbows him. “Hey, so, Robby brought his motorcycle today. Maybe you should ask him for a ride.” He instantly turns beet red and oh, she has struck gold.

“Shut up,” he says, eyes flicking unconsciously towards the doors to the parking area.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Robby? Robby? He’s like, ten million years old. You can do so much better, Huckleberry. Or should I say…” she leans even closer. “Suckleberry?”

“I will eat every avocado you buy from now until the end of time,” he hisses, low and meaning it, and Trinity just cackles and walks away.

They don’t see each other at all for the rest of the shift, which is fine, because Trinity gets two really cool cases and also gets to team up with Victoria on an organ transplant. The wide-eyed waif thing still annoys her sometimes, but Victoria is really fucking smart and good at her job. When they’re done, she bites her lip on the nickname Crash and instead offers her a high-five, which Victoria returns, looking surprised and kind of pleased, like Trinity’s approval means something to her.

She’s walking out to the lockers when Dennis zooms past her, muttering, “Every avocado and all your popsicles,” and she laughs so hard that Ellis pokes her head in to see what the joke is.

“I see the day shift is a laugh riot,” she says, eyebrows raised.

Trinity has been *eyes emoji* for Parker Ellis since they met and would dearly love to deliver some gossip they could bond over, but it’s not her secret to tell, so she just sticks her tongue in her cheek and says, “Uh huh.”

“Okay,” Ellis shrugs. “Oh, King was looking for you. Something about the parade?” She says it casually, but there’s an air of being invested in the answer, and Trinity wonders exactly how many conversations the two of them have had, and whether any of them were about Trinity.

“Um. Thanks,” she says. “I’ll text her.” After a beat, Trinity adds, “See you there?” with a little squeak at the end that is really not how she wanted to impress the hottest doctor on the night shift.

But Parker actually just smiles. “Yeah, sounds cool. My night shift buddy Dr. Crus and I usually swing by towards the end.”

“Cool,” Trinity repeats, taking in the information that maybe her workplace is, like, a lot gayer than she thought. “Looking forward to it.”

I hear we’re going to the parade on Sunday, she texts Mel as she walks out, too much of a coward to make it a question. Her heart’s in her mouth all the way home, but when she takes out her phone to plug it in, she’s missed six texts from Mel:

What parade?
You meant the Pride Parade! Now I understand.
Yes, I would love to go with you.
Who’s “we”? Is Dennis coming?
Is there a special dress code? I don’t think I have any rainbow clothes.
But I could get some. Should I get some?

Great, Trinity thinks. Perfect. Regrettably, this is the woman she’s head over heels for. Fuck.

“You’re coming with me and Mel to the parade on Sunday,” she yells to the air.

Dennis’s face appears at the doorframe. “With you and Mel. Oh, I see. For plausible deniability.” He’s got that grin again. She absolutely deserves it, but she still wants to throw a shoe at him.

Instead she says, aware of the titular irony, “Wanna watch Saving Face?”

—

Trinity breaks out her She-Ra shirt and leather jacket for the parade, which will probably make her too warm, but it’s worth it for the look on Mel’s face when they meet up. “Wow,” Mel says. “Uh, do I look okay?” She touches her wispy rainbow-striped top self-consciously.

“Yeah, you look like a doctor on her day off,” Trinity says with mock seriousness, and then softens when Mel actually looks distressed. “You look great. I like the shirt, it’s cute.”

“Is anybody going to tell me I look cute?” Dennis says, and hell, even siblings aren’t this annoying. Trinity rolls her eyes. Of course he has to have an outfit reveal.

Mel, who loves a direct question, replies, “Oh, sorry. You do look cute! I like the. Um. Actually, I don’t know what that’s called.”

Dennis, who is wearing shorts and a mesh tank top as if he’s just stumbled out of his very first nightclub, just says, “Thanks,” and then starts walking toward the parade route. This is a lot of confidence for him, Trinity thinks, and feels weirdly proud. Nice.

A wave of warmth passes over her arm; Mel stepped closer while she was looking away, not quite touching her, but almost. “I actually haven’t been to the parade before,” she says. “Becca gets too overwhelmed.”

“Well,” Trinity says, “if this is your first ever Pride, we better find you a good view.” For a second, she thinks about reaching out and trying to hold Mel’s hand, but this is probably a lot of noise and new stuff for Mel already. Instead, she picks up her tote bag full of water bottles and says, “Whitaker’s probably finding us a spot, c’mon.”

They do get a good spot on the route. Mel likes the floats and loves the music so much she sings along, which is how Trinity finds out that apparently Mel not only likes Doechii, she knows all the lyrics to “Runway.”

“We should go do karaoke again,” Mel says. “It was really fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” Trinity says, and nearly adds It’s a date, but she catches herself. “We should do it again.”

Both of them dance for a while, and Dennis nods along with the beat, eyes hungrily following the for-hire dancers on the corporate floats. Parker makes good on her promise and finds them late in the afternoon, looking a little underslept but in good spirits. With her is her friend Dr. Crus Henderson, who has a good handshake, Crus’s buttoned-up boyfriend Angel, and Parker’s girlfriend Jasmit, who is so beautiful that Trinity does a double-take. She’s pretty sure Parker sees her do it, because she looks smug.

“The rest of us are down by the food tents,” Parker says, shouting a bit to be heard over the music. “Wanna come?”

Dennis looks worried. “The rest of us? What does that mean?”

It turns out to mean a bunch of night shift doctors they haven’t met, some previous staff who rotated out, and Dr. Michael Robinavitch in a tank and leather pants with his arm around a shirtless Dr. Abbot. Trinity whirls around to catch Dennis’s expression, but he sees her looking and mouths Shut up, so she bites her lip and tries the hardest she’s ever tried to resist teasing him.

“Hey, gang,” Robby says, with an obvious moment of panic fading into a genuine smile. What were you doing at the devil’s sacrament, Trinity thinks. “Nice to see you all here. Day shift’s been a little underrepresented for a while.”

“I guess we’re catching up,” Mel says beside her, and Trinity’s heart suddenly pounds. She didn’t even think. Dennis is one thing, he’s clearly on some sort of journey, but Mel— she can’t let this reflect on Mel, she’s just here as Trinity’s friend. Maybe Mel didn’t even know what it would look like.

She’s about to say something to deflect it, something to protect Mel, but before she can get the right words out, Abbot high fives her. “Nice going, Dr. King,” he says. “Let me introduce you around.” He ducks out from under Robby’s arm and ushers Mel away into a frothing crowd, gone in a blink.

“So,” Robby says, looking meaningfully at Mel and back at Trinity.

“So?” Trinity retorts, nodding her head at Abbot and back at Robby.

Dennis, who has the tactfulness of a really sheltered bull entering its first china shop, interjects, “I like your pants.” Trinity makes an involuntary noise somewhere between a snort and a guffaw. Robby just takes it in with equanimity. It’s good to see him like this, she thinks. He seems calmer here.

“I like your shirt,” he says. Then, a little cheekily: “First time?”

Between meeting the other Pitt crew, standing in long lines for fried food, and dancing to music that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, the afternoon flies by. They’re all sticky and tired and a little glowy, wandering down the now-empty parade route, when a low rumbling starts up behind them. Trinity turns her head to look.

Then one of those magical things happens that only ever happen at Pride.

It’s the Dykes on Bikes, all of them, revving up their motorcycles to drive back down the parade route toward the exit. Their biceps flex as they grip the handlebars; sweat traces the curves of their bodies and disappears into leather vests, jackets, a couple miniskirts. They make a wall of queer power across the road, strong and proud. Trinity feels her eyes a little wet and blinks the water away. Then they notice Trinity and her friends staring.

“Hi,” says a silver-haired dyke in jeans, a white tee, and a black jacket, resting a booted foot at the side of her bike. “Want a ride?”

“Me?” Trinity says, her voice easily an octave above normal.

“All three of you,” says the biker. “Come on.”

Mel fusses with her helmet and asks a lot of questions about safety as she climbs on behind a biker in a skirt and thigh-high silver boots. Trinity, light-headed, climbs behind the silver fox and feels her whole body resonate with the touch as she wraps her arms around her waist. She turns to look at Dennis.

Her roommate looks blissed-out, almost gone from this world, leaning on the back of an absolutely jacked biker with a fade and a lot of piercings, his arms wrapped tight around his pilot. He catches Trinity’s eye and smiles weakly.

“Thank you,” he says, and the biker says, “You’re welcome,” and starts up the bike, but Trinity knows that gratitude was for her. She watches his bike speed away. Then she closes her eyes, giving herself over to pure contentment as the song of the motorcycles rises around them.

—

Yolanda finally texts her back a few days later, but it’s just to say Busy, sorry and Trinity waits for that sick feeling to bubble up in her stomach, but it doesn’t come. She thinks about it while she dries some dishes from the rack and puts them away.

It’s cool, she replies. Happy Pride. After a minute, she adds a little rainbow flag emoji.

Keys sound in the lock and the bolt turns back. She looks up, surprised to see Dennis coming in the door.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the farm?” she says.

He shrugs. “Yeah,” he says, dropping his backpack inside the doorway to his room, “I told Amy I’m gonna take a few more nights to myself. And she doesn’t need me around as much now that the baby’s older. And, uh, her friend Jerry has moved back nearby.” He doesn’t even look nervous about it. Maybe he really has made a decision, Trinity thinks. Huh.

“Okay,” she says. “Wanna watch The Matrix?”

Dennis frowns. “That’s not a gay movie.”

Trinity turns on him and says archly, “It is an honorary queer movie, because of the Wachowski sisters, and also because the whole thing is, like, a queer and trans metaphor. Also Carrie-Anne Moss is unbelievably hot in it.” Dennis looks unconvinced. She considers that she might have a new line of persuasion available to her. “Also, Hugo Weaving, from Priscilla, is in it. And Keanu Reeves wears a lot of tight outfits.”

The suggestion hangs between them for a minute. Up until now, she hasn’t made him say anything about it. She’s teased him and needled him, but she hasn’t actually made him confirm anything. Asking him this isn’t going to force him to do a big coming-out, exactly, but it’s not like you sell a movie to a straight guy on the basis of Keanu Reeves’ pecs.

“Sounds fun,” he says, and slings himself down on the couch next to her.

It’s about as good as she remembers, but watching it feels different. Probably everything they watch together will be different, she thinks. Because now he can see what she sees. It feels comfortable, in a way she hasn’t felt since she started working at the Pitt. It feels like home.

—

Right at the end of the month, toward the end of a grueling shift, when they’re all kinda punchy, Mel says, “Do you think people can turn other people gay?”

Trinity rotates her rolly chair with as much drama as she can muster at 4:30 pm. “Excuse me?” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Perlah nudge Princess, and they both become suspiciously quiet.

“You know, like, can you make someone gay who isn’t already,” Mel says. Mohan and McKay exchange a glance over the tops of their screens and look down again, both trying to keep a poker face and mostly failing.

“Uhhhh,” Trinity says, trying to decide if she should play the “why is the token lesbian getting this question” card, or if she should just blow it off, but it’s Mel, and she sounds totally sincere, the way she always does. Eventually she lands on, “I mean, if people could turn people gay, I would be on Zendaya’s front lawn with a gay-beam. So obviously not.”

Mel shrugs, and that’s about to be the end of it, when Dennis interjects, “I dunno, you kinda turned me gay.”

Princess and Perlah are no longer even pretending not to listen. “Whaaaaaat,” Trinity says.

“I mean, not like, you personally. Just, like, you… showing me gay stuff. Not—like that sounds. You know, the movies, and the culture, and, uh, hanging out. It made me realize I felt some things.” Dennis’s face is so red that it’s spreading to his neck, but he looks determined. Now that she’s actually looking, she sees that he’s added a rainbow pin to his ID lanyard.

“Dude,” Trinity says in a low voice, “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “This is our house.” He holds her gaze for a minute, as confident as she’s ever seen him, and Trinity almost forgives him for the avocados.

“Oh,” Mel says brightly. “Cool. So you can make someone gay. That’s good to know, thanks.”

Trinity is dying to know what that means, but then a femoral laceration comes in the door and the moment is gone. When Trinity tries to find Mel later, she’s already left. She does see Robby and Dennis in the ambulance bay, though, laughing about something. They both look better, she thinks.

Parker shoulderbumps her on her way in. “Hey,” she says, “how’re you doing with that girl of yours?”

“Does literally everyone know,” Trinity says, putting her face in her hands.

Parker grins and pats her on the back. “If it’s any consolation,” she says, “It took me a full year to work up the nerve to ask Jasmit out.”

Trinity snorts. “Why, because you thought she was straight?”

“No, she’s bi as hell. Because I was a damn coward.” She closes her locker and gives Trinity fingerguns before turning to leave.

“Motherfuck,” Trinity says, and pulls out her phone, heart pounding.

—

Mel comes prepared for movie night with two different kinds of popcorn, three candy choices, a six-pack of some unicorn-flavored seltzer, and a snuggie for each of them. “Do you want to be Cheetos or Skittles?” she says, holding them up. Trinity is in awe.

“Holy crap, I’ve been doing movie night wrong all my life,” she says. “Cheetos, I guess?”

Mel hands it to her, beaming. “Yeah, I’ve kind of honed it to a fine art after years of movie night with Becca,” she says. She puts the Skittles snuggie over her head. “Taste the rainbow,” Mel giggles, flapping the snuggie arms and curling up on the couch. Is that… flirting? Trinity can’t even tell anymore.

“Okay,” Trinity says. She fans out the DVDs on the table casually, as if she hadn’t spent literal hours agonizing over what Mel would like, what might scare her off, and what Trinity couldn’t bear to sit through again, even for her crush. “Choices include: The Birdcage, with Robin Williams, very funny, very upbeat, lots of good music. The Old Guard, mostly an action movie, Kiki Layne’s big breakout hit, Charlize kicks ass in it. Rocky Horror Picture Show, an all time classic, and I think you mentioned you’d seen it before and liked it?” She watches Mel’s face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mel says. “I thought you wanted me to bring a movie. But one of those is fine.”

Trinity feels something like hope in her chest. “No, no, that sounds fun. I mean, uh, what did you bring?”

Mel digs through her bag and pulls out a very worn-looking DVD case with a yellow USED sticker on it, and when she glimpses Natasha Lyonne’s face, Trinity’s heart skips a beat.

“Parker said I might like it,” she says, just a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, and Trinity is beginning to suspect that she might not have been the only one doing some teaching this month.

“Yeah,” Trinity agrees, a little breathless. “But I’m a Cheerleader. Iconic. Let’s do it.” She fumbles putting the DVD in and then turns the lights off so Mel can’t see the heat rising to her cheeks.

Mel laughs at all the right places, and she recognizes Dante Basco, apparently just from his voice. During the scene where Graham and Megan kiss for the first time, Trinity hears a little sharp intake of breath next to her, and she’s too scared to look. When the credits roll, though, she notices that Mel has slowly crept from the other corner of the couch almost to Trinity’s side, not quite touching. She doesn’t turn on the lights, letting the credits flicker dimly over them instead.

“I thought about it a lot,” Mel says quietly, as if they had just been talking rather than watching a movie. “With most people, I don’t feel anything. Which is okay. But with you this month, I, I started to feel something.” She looks up, and Trinity feels it like a blow to the chest. “I don’t know if I’m gay,” she says. “But you make me want to try it.”

“Try being gay,” Trinity says, helplessly.

“Mmhmm,” Mel says, and there’s that thousand-watt smile again. “Yeah. I think I’d like to try being gay with you.” She cocks her head. “What do you think?”

Trinity thinks about teaching Mel words like demisexual and stone, and words like femme and butch, and maybe even strap. She thinks about Dennis, slowly growing towards queerness like a flower that’s finally seen the sun.

“I think that sounds like a great residency, Dr. King,” she says. “I would be honored to be your attending.”

Mel squeals with joy and throws her arms around Trinity’s neck, and the sudden warm weight of her after all this time feels like relief, feels like daylight.

“Mel,” she says into her hair, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that part,” Mel says, pulling back. She grins. “Yes. Please kiss me.”

Trinity does.