Archive of Our Own

I think I found a fear of mine
That you might love for no reason
You know I worry
Only luck brought me to you

It has been a while since a day like this came through the ER, where the smell of blood and grief overcame the antiseptic and latex. The days were still brutal half the time, working for over 12 hours, seeing the worst of people in their worst times, and no matter what they might throw at you, helping was the only option. But Trinity would take days like those over days like this one.

Thankfully, it has nothing on her first day, when death was created based on pure hate. This time was an accident.

A complete freak accident.

One of the rails of the T completely went off track—probably due to the lack of maintenance because, God forbid, the city can do anything right—causing it to go directly towards another train going in the opposite direction.

A pure accident, but tragic all the same.

It has been around six hours since Dana got the call and triage was assembled. As a senior resident, Trinity had taken charge at the ambulance bay with one of the new second-year residents.

The new kid was alright, ambitious, and a bit too scalpel-happy. Kind of reminded Trinity of her early years—probably the reason why Al-Hashimi had put them together. The attending knew that if anybody could control the kid was her, without completely ruining their confidence, ending the order stating that is why she should be applying to the pediatrics fellowship.

But that is actually not what is on her mind right now.

News has come out that the couple that was impaled by a metal pole had come out of surgery. Both escaped death by pure luck and her beautiful, skillful girlfriend's hands.

Trinity's beautiful and amazing trauma attending surgeon, who should be coming out of the elevator any minute to hear Al-Hashimi's speech about how they handled the MCE.

You [10:54 pm]

speech by the nurse station. meet u there?

Lani [10:55 pm]

Okay, baby.

The sweet nickname was not out of the ordinary now that they were able to fix both their awful miscommunication, but the blush crept through Trinity's neck all the way to her cheeks.

"You guys are disgusting."

"Mind your business, Fuckleberry."

"The wall we share has made it my business for four years," Dennis responded, no longer looking like a scared farm mouse whose only diet consists of the breadcrumbs that a Victorian child gave it out of pity. "Is she okay?"

"I'm guessing. Why do you ask?" Trinity asked, pocketing her phone in the back of her baggy jeans.

"Perlah heard from Mimi in surgery that it was touch and go with the woman—Bonnie. Apparently Shamsi said to call it, but Garcia was able to bring her back."

"Chismising white boy?"

"I grew up with a lot of Filipinos," Dennis quoted, exaggerating the pronunciation, trying to recreate the same face as Cameron Diaz.

A chuckle escaped Trinity, but her expression quickly sobered up after remembering the original question.

"Guess we will know in a bit," She said as they both walked out of the locker area towards the nurse station.

The ER was still moving, as it always is, the night shift taking charge. Both Abbott and McKay were the attendings on shift, getting the well-oiled Pitt machine running after the blood on the floor was mopped.

They made it to the nurse station, settling in right next to the now-fellow Mel, as they all now waited for the rest of the day shift to make their way down.

"How you doing, Mel-anoma?" Trinity tried her best to look at Mel's face, hoping to read some of the emotion behind it.

"Oh! Great! Well, not great because it was a tragedy, but I'm okay," the blonde responded, forcing a smile that both Dennis and Trinity could easily read as actually not okay and very overwhelmed.

"You're off tomorrow, right?" Whitaker said, trying to bring some hope into the other doctor's eyes. Mel nodded in agreement. "At least you can sleep until noon."

The exchange continued, but Trinity stopped paying attention when the ding of the elevator made her turn her head, green eyes searching deep brown ones.

Both Garcia and Walsh walked out of the elevator, both now in civilian clothes. The former wearing a brown leather jacket that Santos would swear had gone missing from her closet around three weeks ago.

"Hey," Trinity said, offering Yolanda a tiny smile as the older woman made her way towards their little group.

"Hi," Garcia whispered back.

The tone alone rang an alarm bell in Trinity's mind, but what really got her attention was where Yolanda decided to stand. Instead of taking her usual place beside Trinity, she settled slightly in front of her and to the left, close enough that her back almost rested against Trinity's chest.

Oh.

As much as Yolanda liked to pretend she was some heartless surgeon whose reputation could make a new surgical intern tremble in their non-slip shoes at the mere mention of her name, the woman was a complete softy. At least when it came to Trinity. Her love language had always been physical touch. A hand on Trinity's thigh under the table, fingers brushing against the small of her back when they passed each other, a head on her shoulder whenever they were sitting close enough.

But not here.

Not totally anyway. A peck on the stairwell before they separated to their respective floors, a squeeze in the shoulder, even the little flirty comments and heart eyes that brought them together in the first place.

But never this much.

Trinity looked up at her for a second, trying to catch her eye, but before she could ask what was wrong, Al-Hashimi's voice carried over the group.

"Thank you, everyone, for taking the time to come down here. First, I want to say good job today. We saw over sixty patients, and while there were casualties, we gave a second chance to many as well. For that, I thank you for being the amazing physicians you are."

Trinity tried to listen. She really did.

But when Yolanda shifted backward until the space between them became almost nonexistent, Trinity's attention went right back to her.

Okay. Not like she wasn't loving this, but maybe Huckleberry was right earlier. 

She glanced around, wondering if anyone else had noticed.

Dennis was too used to them, probably not even noticing if there was a difference at all. Mel, on the other hand, looked like she was using whatever energy she had left just to keep herself standing. A few feet away, Perlah and Princess stood right next to Dana, leaning against the station. The second year that was with her for like 70% of their shift had both of his eyes closed, probably already asleep. Everyone looked some version of exhausted.

And yet, they were still here.

And here they would be tomorrow. 

Without them, today could have been worse. A lot worse. Fuck, without them, every day in this hellhole could have been worse.

"Second, I know many of you have been here for over twelve hours, so I was able to convince Gloria to get us some non-gas-station pizza and sandwiches, with sodas. Feel free to grab as much as you want. Just leave some for the night shift."

A few tired cheers and laughs broke through the group.

Trinity smiled with them, but her eyes had already wandered back.

It didn't matter how crowded the room was or how many voices surrounded them. Somehow, Trinity would always be pulled toward her.

Yolanda leaned back another inch.

Trinity instinctively shifted forward to meet her.

"Lastly, I won't be here tomorrow. Dr. Robby will be here, as well as Dr. Ellis," Al-Hashimi continued, gesturing toward Parker. "For those of you who have the day off, go rest. Take some time to decompress and come back better than how you left. For those who don't..." She paused, looking around at all of them. "You've got this. Because that's what we do. We continue to move forward and be the best we can."

By then, Yolanda had given up whatever attempt she'd made at keeping space between them. Her head had turned toward Trinity, settling close enough that Trinity's face rested just past her shoulder, her Doc Martens giving her the extra inch to do so. 

If there was anyone left in PTMC who somehow didn't know they were together—and Trinity seriously doubted there was—the display probably answered any remaining questions.

"Alright, let's go home. I've bored you enough."

Al-Hashimi clapped her hands once, dismissing the collection of doctors, nurses, techs, and everyone else essential to keeping the Pitt machine alive and kicking. 

The group slowly broke apart.

Trinity stayed where she was. "Do you want to get some pizza?" she asked quietly.

Normally, pizza was enough to get Yolanda moving after even the worst shift.

"Home," Garcia whispered back as she shook her head.

Yeah. Something was definitely wrong.

She knew that kind of exhaustion, and for that she didn't push. It was the kind that started as soreness in your feet and slowly climbed through every muscle until it reached your head, leaving everything cloudy and fuzzy. Sometimes there wasn't anything to talk about. Sometimes you just needed to get out of the hospital before your brain remembered how to be a person again.

"Okay. Home."

Before they could start toward the exit, Trinity dug through the front pocket of her bag until her fingers found the Subaru keys.

She tossed them toward Whitaker without warning. Dennis caught them, already waiting for them like muscle memory. Already making his way out, probably already offered Mel a ride back, since the T would be closed for a bit. 

With that taken care of, Trinity placed a hand against the small of Yolanda's back and guided her toward the exit of the ER.

She could figure out what was going on once they got home; they had time since neither worked tomorrow. 

For now, she just hoped the garage elevator was working, because if they had to climb four flights of stairs to get to Garcia's Mercedes, Trinity was going to bring them back to an on-call room. 

Not today, world, not today. 

Thankfully, the elevator was actually working this time. Maybe the cosmic being out here took some pity on them.

It didn't take long for them to get home, but Trinity's worry never ceased—actually, the opposite occurred.

When they arrived at the parking spot where the Mercedes was, no protest came out of Yolanda's mouth when Trinity offered to drive them to the apartment. Not even when she opened the passenger door for her girlfriend before making her way towards the driver's seat, an action that would usually get her at least an eye roll and some comment about how she was perfectly capable of opening her own door.

The drive took longer than it should have, not because of traffic—the events of the day had actually left downtown quieter than usual—but because Trinity hadn't even made it a mile away from the hospital before soft snores started coming from the passenger side of the car.

At the next red light, she allowed herself to look over. Yolanda's head rested against the window, eyes closed and arms loosely crossed against her chest, looking more peaceful than she had since walking out of that elevator. Trinity knew the woman needed actual sleep, preferably the kind that happened horizontally and lasted more than twenty minutes, but she also knew waking her up after she had just managed to fall asleep would be a crime against humanity.

So, when they finally made it to the apartment building, Trinity drove past it.

And then she did it again.

And again.

She was somewhere around the fourth circle when Yolanda finally stirred, probably because even half asleep she had realized they had passed the same Sheetz three times.

"Trin."

"Hm?"

"Why are we driving in circles?"

"We're not."

Yolanda turned her head slowly towards her.

Trinity lasted approximately three seconds under the stare before putting on the turn signal. The small smile that appeared on Yolanda's face was enough to make the extra gas she burned up worth it. 

Getting upstairs wasn't much different from the drive, with Trinity taking it upon herself to carry both of their bags while still holding Yolanda's hand, thank you very much. Whenever Trinity had a bad day, Yolanda was usually the most dedicated and caring girlfriend in existence. Well, she was that every day, but those were the times when the love Trinity sometimes still believed she didn't deserve came out at its fullest. Food would appear in front of her, fingers would find their way into her hair, and somehow Yolanda always knew whether Trinity needed to talk or needed everyone in the world to shut the fuck up for a couple of hours.

Tonight, the tables had turned, and Trinity took the responsibility very seriously. She was going to be the butchest of them all, a proper gentleman making everything better for her lady, starting with carrying both bags even though her bad shoulder had been screaming at her since noon.

She even opened the apartment door for her.

And they said chivalry was dead.

Once inside, Trinity knew the best thing they could do was wash the day away. There was something about leaving the hospital after a shift like this and still feeling like it followed you home: the smell of antiseptic somehow stuck inside your nose, dried sweat against your skin, and the phantom feeling of gloves around your hands even after throwing away what felt like a hundred pairs.

With her fingers still intertwined with Yolanda's, Trinity gently guided her towards the bedroom.

Technically, she didn't live here. After deciding to continue living with Dennis until they were both done with residency, there hadn't really been a point in getting another lease somewhere else. Call it big sister intuition or whatever, but it made no sense to have Fuckleberry find some shitty apartment with crappy residency money, especially when they already had a 'perfectly' good apartment—Not counting the landlord. 

But that was all technical bullshit.

Trinity knew this apartment well enough that she could probably make it from the front door to Yolanda's bedroom blindfolded. She knew every corner she had to avoid, where shoes were usually kicked off, and which parts of the floor might have clothes scattered across them from either running late or other extracurricular activities. If it was the former, the clothes were usually hers. She knew where Yolanda kept the good snacks, which cabinet needed an extra push to close properly, and exactly where the plant that refused to die sat by despite both of them forgetting about its existence more times than either would admit.

At some point, without Trinity really noticing when, this place had become another refuge. Another home.

And home wasn't a word Trinity used lightly.

Maybe that should have scared her more than it did.

Four years ago, this level of domesticity would've probably sent either of them running until they reached the end of the world. Not because they didn't want it, but because they did. They craved the vulnerability that came with knowing another person this well, craved having someone who knew what the silence meant and which side of the bed they slept on and what clothes belonged to whom.

They craved it more than anything.

They just had to learn how to stop being fucking terrified of it first.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, Yolanda looked ready to collapse directly onto the mattress, something Trinity couldn't allow unless she wanted the woman sleeping in jeans. 

"Bath or shower?" Trinity asked, already making her way towards the dresser.

"Bath. Together."

"That was never in question."

Trinity opened what had once been her drawer and stared at the collection that had long since expanded beyond its original borders. 

For herself, she grabbed the usual: an old pair of flannel pants that hung low enough on her hips to let the band of her boxers peek out from the top and an old graphic shirt that had definitely seen better days. For Yolanda, she pulled out a pair of silk shorts before reaching for the UCLA gymnastics hoodie folded beside them.

The same UCLA gymnastics hoodie that had once belonged to her before Yolanda stole it in the early stages of their relationship. 

With both sets of clothes tucked underneath her arm, Trinity entered the ensuite bathroom to get everything ready. 

After the bath, Trinity decided that what they both needed was a comfort meal. One that probably increased their cholesterol levels just by looking at it and contained enough sodium for a family of five, but after the day they had, neither of those things ranked particularly high on her list of concerns.

Two packs of instant ramen and a box of Trader Joe's pork soup dumplings later, they were back in bed, eating quietly with some random show playing low enough on the computer between them that neither of them was actually paying attention to it.

Years of experience had made them surprisingly good at eating in bed without making a mess, something Trinity was pretty sure deserved to be listed as a legitimate skill. That record was slightly ruined when one of the dumplings betrayed her and spilled some of its soup onto the front of her shirt, leaving a darker spot right underneath an older stain she couldn't remember the origin of.

Whatever. What was one more?

The only person Trinity had ever cared about impressing was currently sitting beside her eating instant ramen in silk shorts and Trinity's stolen UCLA hoodie, and if they had survived everything else they had put each other through, a dumpling stain wasn't going to be the thing that broke them.

Look at them. So healed.

Her college therapist would probably cry if she could see how much Trinity had evolved.

They finished without talking much, the silence never becoming uncomfortable enough that Trinity felt the need to fill it. Once Yolanda handed over her empty bowl, Trinity collected everything and brought it back to the kitchen, loading the bowls and utensils into the dishwasher before shoving the leftover plastic where the dumplings were in the recycling bin. 

By the time she returned to the bedroom, Yolanda had disappeared into the bathroom, where Trinity found her sleepily making her way through however many steps were currently involved in her skincare routine. Trinity had stopped trying to understand it years ago. There were cleansers and serums and little bottles that all looked the same to her but apparently served completely different purposes, and she had learned better than to question the process.

Even with the normality of the night settling around them, Dennis's question from earlier continued to play in the back of Trinity's mind.

Is she okay?

Then there was Yolanda at the nurse's station, practically leaning her entire weight against Trinity in front of half the ER. Letting Trinity drive without an argument. Falling asleep before they had even made it a mile away from the hospital. Her bigger-than-life personality going back into its little shell. 

Something was bothering her.

Trinity didn't know exactly what, or hell, if there was even anything concrete bothering her beyond the exhaustion that came from spending hours trying to keep people from dying. She knew the surgery had been bad. Dennis had made that much clear, and Yolanda's behavior afterward hadn't exactly helped convince Trinity otherwise.

Still, almost half a decade together had taught Trinity something that the version of herself from four years ago would've had a much harder time accepting: if Yolanda wanted to talk about it, she would come to her.

Yolanda needed time.

For someone so quick-witted and sarcastic, capable of producing a comeback before most people had even finished insulting her—emotions worked differently. Those needed to be digested first, turned over and inspected from every possible angle before Yolanda could figure out how to shape them into actual words. Trying to drag them out of her before they were ready would only make her retreat further into herself.

So Trinity waited.

Thirty minutes later, they were both ready for bed. The older woman found her usual place against her, half lying on top of Trinity with her face tucked into the space between her neck and shoulder like some custom-made puzzle piece that had decided years ago this was exactly where it belonged.

Trinity wrapped an arm around her without thinking, letting her fingers trace lazy patterns along Yolanda's back as the exhaustion from the day finally started winning. Between the warmth of the blankets, Yolanda's weight against her, and the soft sound of her breathing against Trinity's neck, she was probably only a few minutes away from passing out herself.

Her eyes had already fallen closed when Yolanda finally spoke.

"Let's get married tomorrow."

Trinity's eyes opened.

For a second, she genuinely wondered if she had fallen asleep without noticing and her brain had decided to throw that sentence into whatever dream it was creating.

"What?"

Yolanda lifted her head from Trinity's neck enough to look at her. There was no sleepiness in her eyes anymore, or hesitation for that matter.

"Let's get married. We are both off and don't have plans, so let's get married."

Okay. Definitely awake.

"Lani, what are you saying?"

The confidence in Yolanda's face lasted all of two seconds before her eyebrows pulled together. "You don't want to marry me?"

"What? No—no, that's not what I—"

"Oh, okay. Ta' bien."

Before Trinity could finish, Yolanda pushed herself off her, disentangling their legs and turning her entire body towards the opposite side of the bed as if Trinity had suddenly developed a case of the cooties.

"Lani—Lani." Any sleepiness Trinity had felt disappeared immediately as she pushed herself up, reaching for Yolanda's waist before the woman could migrate any farther away. "Yolanda, stop."

"I'm going to sleep."

"No, you're not."

Trinity pulled until Yolanda finally gave in and rolled back towards her, although the hard glare on her face made it very clear that cooperation did not equal forgiveness.

"Of course I want to marry you." Trinity moved closer, one hand finding Yolanda's hip while the other rested against her cheek. "There is nothing I think about more than getting to spend the rest of my days by your side. I would follow you anywhere, whether that's the pits of hell or the courthouse. But since I already follow you anywhere at work, then I hope it's the courthouse."

The corner of Yolanda's mouth twitched.

Progress.

"All I'm asking is what brought this on?"

Whatever amusement Trinity had managed to pull out of her disappeared. Yolanda looked down between them, a strange shyness overtaking her, fingers finding a loose thread on Trinity's shirt and twisting it around her index finger.

"That couple. The ones connected by the pole."

Trinity stayed quiet.

"Apparently, they had been fighting on the train before the accident. Bad enough that he was planning on spending the night at his parents' house. Maybe even moving out," Yolanda licked her lips, clearing her throat before continuing. "But when we were trying to separate them, they were both willing to sacrifice themselves to save the other one. When neither of them agreed..."

Her fingers stopped moving.

"They were ready to die together."

Trinity's hand moved from Yolanda's hip to her back, rubbing slowly between her shoulder blades.

"Right there in the middle of the ER, with a metal pole going through both of them, unable to even look each other in the eye if they died, and I..." Yolanda's voice broke enough that she had to stop.

And there it was. This was what Trinity had been waiting for all night. Well, not this really. Never in a million years did she think this was how the night would end. 

(Not that she was complaining).

She didn't interrupt. Didn't ask a question or try to finish the thought for her. She only moved closer, pressing her lips against Yolanda's forehead before letting her take however much time she needed.

"All I could think about was you."

Trinity felt something tighten inside her chest.

"How kind you are. How fucking dorky you are."

"Hey."

A watery laugh escaped Yolanda. "Even when you try so hard to act tough and mean, I know you." Yolanda's eyes were already shining, but she didn't look away. "I know how stubborn you would have been if that were us. I know you would've been on that table telling everyone to save me, and I would've rather died bleeding next to you than let them choose me over you."

"Lani..."

"And I know that's probably fucked up. We're doctors, we're supposed to want people to live, and I spent hours trying to make sure neither of them had to make that choice. But all I could think about was what I would do if it were us."

A tear finally escaped, making its way down Yolanda's cheek before Trinity caught it with her thumb.

They had spent years learning how to love each other without destroying themselves in the process. Years learning that loving someone didn't mean disappearing into them, that an argument wasn't the end of the world, that sometimes one of them needed space and sometimes the other needed to be held until the noise inside their head finally stopped.

They weren't perfect. God, were they fucking far from it.

But they were here—together. 

"I don't care that we fight sometimes," Yolanda continued. "I don't care that you technically live somewhere else, but half your clothes are here anyway. I don't care how many bad days we have or how many times we drive each other insane. At the end of every one of them, you're still the person I want to come back to."

Trinity's breath caught.

"There is nowhere I'd rather be than with you, Trinity Santos." Yolanda reached up, resting her palm against Trinity's cheek. "So marry me."

For probably the first time in her life, Trinity Santos had absolutely nothing to say.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

"Hold please."

Yolanda blinked. "What?"

Trinity practically launched herself off the bed.

"What? Trinity!"

"Hold on!"

"Where are you going?"

"Close your eyes!"

"Trinity—"

"Yolanda Isabel Garcia, close your eyes!"

A laugh finally broke through Yolanda's tears, but Trinity was already out by the entrance on the floor beside the bags she'd abandoned there earlier, digging through hers with significantly less organization than someone handling what was probably the most expensive object she had ever purchased should've had.

It had been in her possession for less than 24 hours.

Perlah had given it back to her that afternoon after letting her cousin fix the measurements, promising that it would fit Yolanda perfectly. Trinity had checked it approximately fifteen times since then because apparently spending that much money on something made Trinity believe it would grow legs and run away. 

"Where the fuck is it?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Eyes closed!"

"They are!"

Six months.

She had bought the ring six months ago, which, looking back, had probably been one of the most impulsive things Trinity had ever done. Shocking, right?

She hadn't even been looking for one.

She had been at the mall with the Pittlings because Crash wanted to buy Harrison something for passing his AP test. A completely normal trip to the mall that was supposed to end with a gift for Crash, sort of stepson, and probably a couple of blind boxes they would open up for a Dr.J TikTok.

Then they walked past the jewelry store.

Trinity had barely made it three steps past the window before stopping.

There it was.

She couldn't explain what happened after that without sounding like the kind of person she would've made fun of years ago, but the world seemed to stop for a second. The noise from the mall disappeared, the chatter between Huckleberry and Crash faded into the background, and all Trinity could see was that ring and a picture so clear in her mind that it almost felt like a memory.

Yolanda wearing it.

That exact ring on her left hand.

It had been impulsive. Completely fucking insane, actually. They hadn't seriously talked about getting engaged anytime soon, and Trinity definitely hadn't walked into the mall expecting to spend a whole down payment on a ring.

But it had felt right.

With her credit card now crying in her pocket, Trinity walked out of the store with a receipt and the realization that, apparently, she was going to marry Yolanda.

She just hadn't figured out when.

Until now.

"Got it!"

Trinity pulled the small box from the bottom of the bag and ran quickly towards the bedroom, still evading the stupid plant. 

"You can open them," Trinity said, standing in front of her in old flannel pajama pants with a hole along the seam by her right ankle, a dumpling-soup stain joining what Trinity was pretty sure now was an old toothpaste stain on her shirt, and a cheeky smile she couldn't have gotten rid of if she tried.

Yolanda's eyes immediately narrowed.

"¿Qué traes?"

"Well." Trinity slowly walked towards the bed. "Since you are apparently so in love with me that you were ready to go all Romeo on me, it's only fair I get my turn."

"Trinity..."

She stopped directly in front of Yolanda.

Then dropped to one knee.

Yolanda's hands flew over her mouth.

For once, Trinity hadn't planned a speech.

Which was probably stupid considering she'd had six months to come up with one, but every version she'd tried in her head had sounded wrong. The countless hours spent in front of her bathroom mirror or in the shower rehearsing what felt more like a movie monologue than a true depiction of her feelings. It all felt too dramatic or too cheesy. It wasn't them. 

But looking up at what Trinity can now confidently say was the love of her life, she finally understood why.

"I bought this six months ago."

"Trin-"

"Yeah. We'll unpack that later." Trinity pulled the box from behind her back and opened it. "And I had this whole idea that whenever I finally did this, I would know exactly what to say. Turns out I don't."

Yolanda laughed through the hand still covering her mouth.

"But I know you."

Trinity swallowed, suddenly finding it much harder to be funny.

"I know how you take your coffee, and I know how it changes depending on whether it's snowing or not. I know exactly what face you make when all you want is to throw the nearest scalpel at the stupid new intern that thinks he knows better. I know that no matter how much you deny it, some of your favorite nights are movie nights back at the apartment with Huckleberry. I know there is nothing in this world that you don't love more than going to your mom's place and spending it with your sister and nieces, and being surrounded by the warmth that brings a different light into your eyes."

Even with her hand still covering her mouth, Trinity could see a small smile being displayed.

"And just like I know you. You know me.  All of me. Even the parts I spent most of my life making sure nobody got close enough to see. And besides all of that, you still love me, and I love you."

Trinity looked down at the ring for a second, not sure if it was to confirm she was actually doing this and she had not actually fallen asleep into a beautiful dream fueled by the exhaustion of the day. 

"You're my home, Lani. One that I thought I would never have again. Whenever you touch me, whenever I feel your eyes on the other side of the ER, I'm home. Because you are at the end of it all."

Trinity could feel her own eyes burning now, which was bullshit because she had been doing very well up until this point.

"You spent years teaching me that being loved doesn't mean I have to earn it every day. That I don't have to be useful or funny or strong all the fucking time for you to stay. You just...stay."

A tear slipped down Trinity's cheek.

"And I want to keep coming home to you for the rest of my life."

She took the ring from the box.

"So, Dr. Yolanda Isabel Garcia, since you so rudely stole my proposal before I could use this very expensive ring I bought you, will you marry me?"

Yolanda stared at her. "Get up."

Trinity blinked. "That's not really an answer."

"Trinity, get up."

And Trinity, who could be the biggest hardhead on the planet but would probably do whatever Yolanda Garcia told her to do until the end of time, got up.

She barely made it onto both feet before Yolanda threw both arms around her neck and kissed her.

Trinity stumbled forward from the force of it, one hand immediately finding Yolanda's waist while the other remained awkwardly held away from them because dropping the ring into the mess of sheets after all of that would be a really fucking embarrassing way to end the night.

The kiss was messy and wet from tears, lasting what felt like forever, only breaking when their need to breathe finally won over their need to stay tangled together.

Even then, they didn't go far, foreheads still pressed together as they caught their breath. For a while, neither said anything, simply staying there and breathing each other in.

"I love you," Trinity whispered.

She didn't wait for an answer before kissing Yolanda again—and again.

Until the end of their days.

So I fill my days with thinking
Though I'm years from my true time
I could die tomorrow
You'd be close behind
Close behind