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It’s sometime before dawn on Christmas morning and Shaw is awake.
Not to open presents, but because someone has apparently decided today is the day to commit murder. She’s a little hung over from Christmas dinner – and then her and Root’s impromptu private party – last night. Not enough to be a distraction. Just enough that she’s thankful the only lights on at the moment are on the Christmas tree and the coffee maker Root’s fiddling with in the kitchen.
At least someone has already turned the heat up, so she isn't cold even in just her sleep clothes. Judging by the snow whipping around outside, this warmth isn’t going to last long.
She hears the coffee machine start up, then the muffled tread of Root’s fluffy slippers. Shaw lazily tracks her as she moves past her spot on the couch and flips on a power bar beside the TV. Suddenly, the apartment is lit up by the Christmas lights Root’s covered almost every available surface with. Shaw blinks several times. She feels Root drop onto the couch beside her, then stroke her hair and lightly kiss the side of her head.
Shaw lets out a vague sort of grumbling sound. She feels the breath of Root’s laughter on her ear, then Root shifting to cuddle up beside her. Shaw’s eyes quickly adjust to the light as the settle against each other, and she stares at the rainbow of lights in front of her.
Putting them up in the still sparsely furnished apartment was one of the first things Root did once they decided they’d be staying there. At first just a couple strings of plain white ones she brought from the subway. Then more and more strings in varying colours started appear every time Shaw returned. Wreaths and garlands and other decorations too. And finally last week she was greeted by a far too large pine tree in the space between the windows and the living room area of the apartment’s main room.
She even put together a team Christmas dinner last night and coerced Shaw into a truly horrifying sweater for the occasion.
At first, Shaw thought she was doing it just to be a pest. But she thinks she sees flashes of genuine joy in Root’s antics. Sees the way the she hides her earnestness behind jokes.
Maybe it’s just because she’s tired, but her curiosity finally gets the better of her.
“I never knew you were so into all this,” Shaw says, waving around at the lights and tree.
“I wasn’t really, before.” Root’s hand that’s been resting on Shaw’s leg tenses slightly. Shaw lets her own hand turn over and fall open. Root takes it after a moment’s hesitation, and squeezes lightly. “Never really had any reason to celebrate. Or anyone I wanted to celebrate with.”
Shaw just hums in response. They sit there together until they the coffee machine beeps, signalling that it’s time for them to get up and face the outside world.
“I got the drive, Finch. I’m heading back now,” Shaw says as she exits the bank she apprehended their number in. The snow’s starting up again and even though it’s only nine in the evening she can’t wait to get back to her warm apartment.
The voice that replies to her isn’t the one she’s expecting, but still one she’s glad to hear.
“I sent him home. It’s just you and me, all by ourselves…”
She rolls her eyes at Root’s flirtatious tone, more out of reflex than actual annoyance. Pulling her hat and gloves on, she starts down the sidewalk in the general direction of the library.
“You think Skynet can get me a ride? I’m freezing my ass off here.”
“We wouldn’t want that. Your ass is important to me.” A black car is already coming to a stop beside her before Shaw can think of comeback. She gives a little salute to a nearby camera, and hops in the back seat of the car.
Root isn’t at Harold’s workstation when Shaw gets to the library. She wanders down the hallway to where flickering yellow-orange light is spilling out of one the old reading rooms.
She finds Root there, sitting in a comfortable looking armchair in front of a fireplace. The otherwise empty room is lit only by the roaring fire and the dim glow of the wall lamps. She can see snow starting to pile up on the windows that line the wall opposite the door, and there’s music – a solo piano piece – playing softly from a speaker on the mantel. The Machine apparently hasn’t alerted Root to her presence so she lets her next step fall a bit heavier than usual.
Root looks up from her book, smiling widely as soon as she sees Shaw. “Sameen,” she says warmly as she closes her book and unfolds herself from the chair.
She reaches Shaw in a couple long strides, sliding right into her personal space. She taps Shaw’s nose, red from the cold.
“You’re so adorable, Sam.”
Shaw twists, bumping her hip into Root, hard. This doesn’t deter her at all. She just grabs Shaw by the waist, pulling her even closer. Shaw doesn’t resist, eagerly pressing into her.
Suddenly, Root takes a step back. She stands a bit straighter, inclines her head slightly, then offers her hand to Shaw with an exaggerated flourish.
“May I have this dance?”
She shakes her head at Root’s ridiculousness, but steps forward and takes her hand. She’s momentarily caught off guard by Root’s closeness and her touch. For the first half a step she’s being moved by Root. Then she catches herself and starts following her lead.
It’s a little strange.
Moving in sync with Root, whether in combat or in the bedroom, feels natural to Shaw. Following the subtlest of cues, communicating with a look and a touch, acting and reacting with each other effortlessly. These things are familiar to Shaw. But so rarely does she have the chance to simply appreciate this interplay. There’s no enemies, no mission. They aren’t playing some game or leading up to something. Just moving together, flowing and swaying fluidly with some intricate pattern of steps that only Root knows, but Shaw still follows flawlessly.
She definitely appreciates it, but it’s not really the sort of thing either her or Root would usually do.
Root notices the way Shaw’s looking at her.
“We got a number a couple months ago,” she says. “For a marriage license. So we crashed the wedding.” She sort of shrugs slightly. “Well, Harry and John crashed. I was the caterer. We wrapped everything up just after the ceremony, so we took the night off and went to the reception.” She pauses, her smile dropping somewhat and a far off look in her eyes. Her steps almost falter. “You were gone and Samaritan was closing in on us. It felt like the world was ending, Sameen. Everyone around us was so happy and carefree and oblivious to what was hanging over them. I wanted that for us. For a night, for even just one dance, to forget about everything else and just be together.”
“We’ve never really been conventional.”
Root breaks into a smile once more. “Nope! But still… this isn’t so bad, is it?” Shaw notices the way Root’s eyes are downcast. The way she appears a little apprehensive and maybe almost afraid of rejection. The way she doesn’t exaggerate and play this up, but rather tries to hide it.
“It’s alright, I suppose.”
It’s just the tiniest twitch of her lips. A barely-there ghost of a smirk. But Root, of course, sees it. Understands it. Understands Shaw’s meaning.
She smiles at Shaw.
Then the music stops. A beat later, they do too. They stand there unmoving, pressed up against each other, and it doesn’t feel like they’ve finished. Root’s hands are still on her and hers are still on Root, neither ready to let go. Root’s lips are so close to hers she can feel her breath, but neither makes a move to kiss the other. The stillness stretches on, the two of them just staring at each other. It feels increasingly like one of them is about to say something. Something significant and meaningful.
They’re saved by the music starting up again. This time a mellow instrumental version of Auld Lang Syne. Root starts them dancing again, the pattern subtly different. Root holds her closer, they dance a bit slower, and it’s not bad at all.