Chapter Text
After the shit show that would never end, all departments eventually switched off with the night shift. Yolanda Garcia was never more grateful in her life to have a weekend. She didn’t want to see this place, think about it, or be reminded of it for the next forty eight hours.
She let her hair loose from its tight bun and dragged herself out of the building, into her car and eventually, into a well deserved and long therapeutic hot water. It took a lot for her to cry, today had been no exception, but it didn’t mean it didn’t affect her. She wasn’t quite as heartless as she let the ED team believe. She allowed the perfect pressure of the stream to wash away this horrible day.
She cobbled together an adequate cheese and cracker plate because cooking would not be an option tonight, and opened a bottle of red that had been meant for a special occasion. She curled up on her couch in her pajamas, something mindless on in the background that required very little engagement from the surgeon. She was finally able to decompress and sort through the details of the day.
All the procedures, the different conversations, all the chaos.
She was proud of everyone, her team, everyone downstairs, but fuck . It shouldn’t have happened.
It had arguably been the most stressful day of her career so far. Then of course she was still processing Langdon’s fuck up.
You idiot , she thought.
He was a good man, a great doctor, but somewhere along the way he messed up so bad a fucking intern , on her first day had sniffed out his nonsense and turned him in.
She had been harsh, she knew that, could see the conflict and then the defeat in Dr. Santos’s eyes. Even if she did believe her, the fact remained that she hadn’t wanted to be involved. She had enough on her plate without having to deal with other people’s drama.
It wouldn’t take very long for the rumor mill to be in full force. The only thing the ED staff loved more than a good wager was gossip. Dr. Robby could try to do damage control all he wanted but those things tended to have a life of their own. She didn’t envy the man.
Now with some distance, she could think about Dr. Santos properly, because the fact remained that she was still irritatingly attracted to the other woman. Yolanda was a flirt, it wasn’t a secret. Doctors, nurses, the occasional family member. It was something to pass the time on a long shift. But like Dr. Mehta and his dad jokes, nothing really came of it. As if she had time to date. Not beyond finding a pretty face at a bar for the night, never to be heard from again.
She had been pleasantly surprised to come down for a consultation to find those large eyes staring up at her. Something inside of her had been dislodged, even though she immediately dismissed it as mere physical attraction. At every turn Dr. Santos had impressed her, even after she’d dropped the scalpel on her foot. It still throbbed dully but she’d had worse injuries really.
She found herself seeking her out throughout their shift, even giving her special treatment. The woman accepted everything offered, enthusiastically, if maybe a little cocky (she wouldn’t know anything about that). She was intelligent, bold, if a little audacious. It was exciting to have someone who could handle herself.
Naturally, any news amid the chaos downstairs had made its way upstairs to the surgeons. They threw her name around in hushed tones about some procedure she’d gone ahead and done without an attending. Successfully at that. Abbot was proud apparently. Walsh had grunted in grudging admiration, though only a person who knew her well would be able to decipher the sound. She wasn’t too proud to admit she’d been harboring similar feelings herself.
If she was a more modest person she might’ve been a little embarrassed that her interest didn’t go unnoticed, maybe even started some rumors. Yolanda was not meek and she didn’t prescribe to this idea of shame being useful. She liked what she liked, didn’t hide her wants and needs.
She did however admit when she was wrong. Not that it happened often, she was a surgeon for god’s sake, there wasn’t a whole lot of room for error in her line of work. So yes, in a non-fatal capacity, sometimes she messed up. She gritted her teeth, put on her big girl pants, and made amends when it was warranted.
There would be some making up to do with this new intern, if any of them planned on sticking around after a day like that. For now she would allow them both some breathing room and just observe. The whole Frank thing, it wasn’t her department and there was nothing to do but wait and see how it all panned out. She could reach out to him and Abby once the dust had settled.
Maybe Dr. Santos was trouble, but maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she initially thought.
________________________
Dr. Garcia didn’t even last two weeks before she caved. She tried her best to do her job. With or without certain members, the ED department went on, functioning as usual, so she did the same.
She quietly observed Dr. Santos just as she planned, and to no one’s surprise, least of all hers, the intern gave her a wide berth. If they were forced to be in the same room, Santos was perfunctory and efficient. Never addressing each other, never making eye contact.
When the consultation was finished, if Garcia didn’t leave first, she was the one to quickly make her way out to a new case. She didn’t dare approach her in front of everyone about helping with a new procedure, she’d leave the teaching to Dr. Robby and Dr. Collins for now.
It wasn’t until she had downtime to think about it, absently scrubbing in for a surgery or on her drive home, that she realized she missed the other woman. Missed the banter, the camaraderie, and yes, being able to look into her beautiful face and simply enjoy it. This was not sustainable, nor did she want it to be.
Leaving a note in her locker felt entirely too juvenile for her liking, so under the guise of needing her for something, she called Dana to ask to deliver the message.
(She didn’t think she could stand a face to face with the charge nurse, who always had a way of staring into your soul and just knowing the thing you didn’t want anyone else to.)
When she arrived at the stairwell she’d requested they meet at, Santos was already there leaning casually against the wall, hands behind her back. The only tell she could see giving away any nervousness, was the way she kept biting her lip.
She straightened when she spotted the surgeon, walls completely up.
“You rang?”
Her tone was cool as a cucumber, almost mocking.
“I’m done with my shift, from what I understand, you are too. I wanted to have an informal chat. Walk me to my car?”
Dr. Santos frowned, squinting at her as if trying to figure out a math problem.
“I promise I'm not trying to lure you away to murder you.”
The intern gave her a little smirk.
“Good, because you’d be in for a surprise. Let me grab my things, I'll meet you at the back door.”
Dr. Garcia waited until she heard the stairwell door close to let out a long sigh of relief, wondering what the hell she was actually going to say.
Santos arrived at the back door as promised.
“Ready?”
With a raised brow she pursed her lips but gave a single nod before following her out to the parking lot. They walked silently, Garcia watching out of the corner of her eye the way Santos fidgeted with the strap of her bag, clenching her jaw. It was extremely difficult for the surgeon not to think about how many times her mind had slipped and she’d daydreamed about firmly biting down on her jaw just to see what reaction it would elicit.
They finally arrived at her vehicle and she indicated to it with her head.
“This is me.”
Santos crossed her arms and looked down waiting for Garcia. If she was being honest, though she’d created an ambiguous script for this very encounter (lord knew she spent countless hours imagining this confrontation), she was having trouble recalling any of it now. In fact she had struggled the short walk out just to get going. She let out a long sigh realizing it wasn't helping to pretend she wasn’t as nervous as the other woman looked.
“I’m sorry.”
Santos shrugged.
“For what?”
“For a lot of shit. But mostly for failing you. It was a long day, it was a lot to deal with. But I didn’t have to react that way.”
She tucked a lock of her behind her ear and nodded.
“Thanks.”
“Would you let me drive you home?”
Garcia chastised herself in Spanish silently for sounding so stiff and formal about it all. She could already hear her mother and tías giving her shit for it.
She rectified it by being bold and stepping forward. Santos finally looked up at her, the same way she had looked at her on her first day every time they’d interacted, a little scared and unbelieving. Yolanda wasn’t certain if it was a good thing or not.
“I think you’re going to be an amazing doctor,” she murmured into the small space left between them.
“You deserve all the learning opportunities you’re looking for. I want to give that to you. If you’ll let me.”
Yolanda was only vaguely mortified that it was starting to sound like some declaration of love. Santos searched her eyes, looking for sincerity, she supposed.
She licked her lips, that intense stare boring into her now.
“Whatever you want to give me, I’ll take it. I want all of it.”
Yolanda found her shoulders sagging with relief, though she tried her best to remain impassive. Hardly knew what to say now the issue seemed to be resolved. Santos watched her expectantly and she had to reel herself in to not get lost in those vast green eyes.
Something internal seemed to jostle the other woman out of the moment.
“Oh! Gimme a minute, I'll be right back.”
She pulled out her phone as she started jogging away so Yolanda busied herself starting the car. Eventually she got lost in her own thoughts about the day and how the evening was going to pan out. Wondering if Santos was the kind of woman who would be pliant for her or fight for dominance, she was honestly open to either outcome. Garcia was versatile, or could be, in any case.
She nearly startled when Santos yanked the passenger side open and slid in easily.
“Ok, all set.”
She let Santos mess around with the radio the whole drive there, normally it would’ve irritated her but she was happy the intern had been open to her apology, let alone allowing the ride home.
Once in front of the building, they sat in the car for a considerable amount of time talking about everything and nothing. It was different to drop their respective titles and just be two people trying to find some kind of common ground. Nice, even.
They skirted around potentially heavy subjects like family or things too far in the past, it was the most relaxed she’d ever seen her. She studied her facial expressions, the way her brow arched, the way she bit her lip if she was unsure or lost in a thought. How her arms flailed animatedly when she talked. Appreciated the length of her haircut, seeing it out of its ponytail.
Even the way she rolled her eyes was charming and distantly Yolanda thought she should be concerned. Alarmed even.
They were both sunk back comfortably into their seats, facing each other, but eventually Santos ran her hand through her hair and sat up.
“I should probably head in before Whitaker thinks I’ve been kidnapped or something.”
She reached down for her bag as Yolanda registered the comment.
“I didn’t know you guys already knew each other.”
Then a worse thought made a pit form in her stomach followed by some very unwelcome nausea.
“You guys have like an open relationship?”
Of course someone like Trinity was taken but she could not reconcile it with the fact that that sad Victorian orphan she kept seeing in different colored scrubs was the one who had somehow bagged a woman like Santos. Maybe it was his non-threatening aura, after all, the intern had more than enough bravado for both of them. Yolanda was an adventurous person in the romantic department, was no stranger to more than one individual in her bed, but this wasn’t really what she had signed up for. She wasn’t particularly good at the sharing thing.
She realized Trinity was gaping at her now as if she’d said something heinous.
Yolanda gaped back, waiting for an answer, revealing nothing. Or at least she thought she wasn’t until she saw the brief glint in her eyes and then an odd little smile.
“As far as I’m aware, Whitaker isn’t into lesbians, not like that. He puts up with me anyway.”
The surgeon tried not to smile like an idiot at the admission, flooded with relief.
“Probably for the best then. I’ll walk you to your door.”
They stood on the steps blinking at each other, neither saying anything but unable to break intense eye contact. She liked that Trinity didn’t look away, all previous nerves dissipated. Liked that the only time they broke eye contact was to glance briefly at each other’s lips.
“So, thanks for the ride.”
“Thank you , for the evening. I’ll see you at work?”
Trinity gave a little nod and Yolanda stepped forward. She paused, just to give her a chance to pull back, if she was overstepping, but she only tipped her head up slightly, daring the surgeon to go on.
It took all her willpower not to nose beneath her jaw. Instead she leaned to the side and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. She felt more than heard the little sigh the other woman let out.
When she pulled back, she thrilled at how her green eyes had darkened.
“Goodnight, Dr. Santos.”
She licked her lips, fidgeting with her bag strap again.
“Trinity.”
“Yolanda,” she offered in return.
___________________________
After that they both found themselves lingering after their respective shifts, pretending to bump into each other as they were slowly making their way out of the building. It wasn’t impossible for the surgeon to keep a straight face, but it was a challenge. Internally she was rolling her eyes at how preposterous they were both being, especially by not addressing the elephant in the room.
Because it was more than just a friendly desire to get to know more of each other. There was nothing friendly about her thoughts regarding the intern, much less when she was home alone with them. She was fairly certain it wasn’t one-sided, not with the lingering looks they shared, even with an audience. The lingering touches that could still somewhat pass as professional.
They toed the line of how much they could reveal about themselves, without rolling over and completely baring their bellies. It wasn’t about trust, there was an ease, even a comfort there. But vulnerability was not a muscle Garcia exercised and she imagined neither did Santos. It would take some practice. She wanted to ask about all her tattoos, if they meant anything, found herself wanting to ask about her past. Something neither were willing to broach yet. Maybe in time.
She tried to keep her cards close to her chest, but sometimes she thought maybe she was about as subtle as Dr. Santos. When she wanted to, her walls were unbreachable but watching her long enough revealed that the intern didn’t always have full control of how visible her reactions were, especially the less polite ones. It was endearing in its own way.
Later in the week after Dr. Garcia had driven her home, Dr. Santos happened to find herself on the surgery floor by the locker room, trying to appear casual.
“I had a thought,” she said poking her head into the open doorway.
Garcia hid a smile and focused on grabbing her purse.
“Do tell.”
“What if you let me drive you home?”
It was impractical, even if she meant well. It meant Yolanda had to leave her car here overnight and then walk or bus in the morning. Granted her car would be safe, but it was rather silly.
She gave Santos a small smile.
“Lead the way”
She didn’t know how she had turned into this person.
__________________________
Yolanda should’ve been at home with a cold glass of white maybe, feet secured in fuzzy socks, intently watching some trashy period piece.
Instead she was here, at this stupid team building activity the hospital had thrown together (no doubt Gloria’s grand idea, her take on a pizza party). She didn’t understand how renting out a bowling alley and providing endless amounts of alcohol was supposed to accomplish that.
It was interesting at the very least, witnessing everyone’s after hours behaviors, some more noticeable than others, all the cliques more prominent. Dana and Heather were in their own lane with some of the attendings and could occasionally be heard cackling together, in their own world, over all the ruckus. Even the paramedic team was here drinking and socializing with everyone.
In any case they all seemed to be enjoying themselves so maybe there was something wrong with Yolanda.
She certainly hadn’t planned on sulking in a corner the whole evening watching Trinity and Samira drape themselves all over each other. Naturally the younger staff gravitated together and had commandeered a couple of lanes side by side. They were loud, laughing and shouting, jostling one another like excitable puppies.
Her jaw was starting to hurt despite her efforts to keep it unclenched. She liked Dr. Mohan, she did. She was bright and eager, good at her job, known for her satisfaction scores. She could honestly say there was a lot of respect there. But this .
This display of, she wasn’t even sure what to call it. And since when had those two become such good friends anyway?
It wouldn’t have been so painful if Trinity wasn’t so breathtaking.
She was wearing a dark blue slip dress and combat boots. It clung to every curve of her body, effortlessly beautiful. Occasionally a strap would slide down a creamy shoulder and she’d quickly readjust. Or obnoxiously, Samira would do it for her. Yolanda was quite certain when she bent over to throw her bowling ball, anyone looking over would get an eyeful of her already prominent cleavage.
Every time Trinity looked up at her through her lashes as if she knew exactly what she was doing, the surgeon felt a jolt course through her. She would run a hand through her hair or stretch, making direct eye contact, expression loaded and indecipherable at once. They waited to see who would look away first.
It wouldn’t have been that odd for her to casually mosey over and say hello, or for the intern to stop by to quickly chat. But it looked like they were both choosing to keep things as tense as possible.
Despite all the progress they’d made lately. They weren’t quite friends yet but they were definitely more than acquaintances or colleagues. As much as Garcia wasn’t in a rush to put a label on it, she also didn’t really enjoy how vague it all felt.
If they kept this up, people would start suspecting something, and worse, they’d both be getting a fun chat with Dr. Robby about work appropriate behavior.
The thing was, they had continued to ride around in each other’s cars, mostly just sitting and talking. Sometimes taking a walk around the block or a nearby park.
Walking the other to their front step/ apartment door, brief kisses on the cheek as if they were middle aged people getting back on the horse. God , they even started sending stupid texts about nothing that made her blush for no other reason that she did not do these kinds of things. It usually nauseated her (she could sit through every period piece made but she didn’t necessarily want that crap for herself). With Trinity it was easy to be eager for more.
Yolanda felt like she was on rocky ground and it made her uneasy, she was grasping at straws to find a way to stability, sanity, anything other than this feeling of freefalling. This insecurity was new to her and could say with confidence she didn’t care for it.
“You look like you’re having the time of your life.”
Emery slumped down next to her, cocktail in hand.
“You know me, nothing gets me going like glow in the dark decor and unusually heavy balls.”
Even though she would never admit it, she knew the other surgeon was making the rounds and periodically checking in on her to make sure she didn’t spontaneously combust. She was sure once she was away from this place she'd be able to appreciate the effort more.
Emery snorted and followed Yolanda’s line of sight.
“You’re so fucked, dude.”
“You always know just what to say, Walsh.”
“It’s a gift. I could’ve been a motivational speaker.”
“Surely. I fucking hate bowling.”
“I’d rather be at the dentist myself but I’m not going to turn down free alcohol.”
Yolanda was stone cold sober, raw dogging it, as it were. It would’ve been easy to let amber liquid dull everything around the edges, but there was something to be said about sustaining tension. No wonder she did what she did for a living. Anyway she needed to be alert, the last thing this nebulous thing with Santos needed was alcohol fueled sentiments.
She had successfully found a way to block out most of the shenanigans around her but she was growing weary as the night progressed. She was wound tight and not getting any more relaxed (there was only one thing she could think of that would unravel her and it was not an option). It didn’t take much for the surgeon’s irritation to flare up at the rate she was going.
A few people had come over to stop and chat, or worse, hoping to entice her into bowling but she turned them down effectively. She was going to avoid it at all costs if it could be managed.
The final straw was finally when Trinity slid into Samira’s lap. Yolanda didn’t think it was meant to be sexy, they were both laughing raucously and if she was being rational and objective she could see it was all friendly. This was what female friends did, outside of work people might get confused and think she and Emery were an item.
But Garcia didn’t want to be rational or nice or anything remotely pleasant. Fuck this.
She stood quickly and Emery jumped up just a second after.
“Woah there, tiger.”
“I’m not going to do anything, who am I, a tv housewife? I don’t need to look at this shit any longer. I’m officially over it. I’m leaving.”
She yanked her bag off the bench and made a beeline for the exit.
She glanced back once at the same time Trinity looked over to where she had been seated. She wasn’t sure if she imagined the look of disappointment that briefly flashed across her face before turning back to the group.
Once she found her car, she stood still for a moment, hand on the door, taking a deep breath to gather her bearings before she started the drive home.
“You weren’t going to say bye or anything?”
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. Why the fuck did they keep doing this in parking lots? She already knew without turning around Trinity had her arms crossed, that look on her face she got when she was getting ready to challenge someone at work.
She didn’t have it in her to do this.
“Why don’t you go back to Samira?”
She didn’t bother keeping the exhaustion out of her voice, didn’t even bother turning around.
There was a short silence before Trinity understood.
“Ah.”
“I’m sure my lap isn’t quite as cozy as hers. Goodnight Dr. Santos.”
Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment at making such a spectacle. Never in her adult life had she thrown such a tantrum. If someone wanted to leave, she was always more than happy to show them the door. She didn’t have time for ultimatums, demands for more than she could give, and definitely not displays of jealousy. She liked having a warm body in her bed, but not at the cost of her own peace. The surgeon was just as happy with her own company.
She huffed and tried to wrench her door open. At lightning speed, Trinity was slamming it back. Yolanda tensed and curled her fists on the window, still not giving the other woman the satisfaction of turning around.
Her whole body, her breasts, were very intentionally pressing into her back now. Yolanda felt insane, overwhelmed by the smell of her fragrance, underneath that, her , a smell she was coming to know intimately.
She wanted to tell the intern to fuck off already, but despite it all, quietly relished the closeness, hating herself for it. Trinity brought her nose to the back of her neck and breathed her in.
It felt as shaky as it sounded and Garcia felt it everywhere in her body, breaking out in goosebumps.
It wouldn’t take much effort to spin them around so that Trinity was the one pinned against her car. Could only imagine her half lidded eyes and parted mouth if she softly dragged a hot palm up her thigh.
If she let out a pathetic whine she would never forgive herself.
“I’m going to let you go, Yolanda,” her voice was strained but determined.
“Samira and I are friends. Just that. All night all I wanted was for you to notice me. Fuck, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. It’s your move, Dr. Garcia.”
Yolanda was not prepared for the loss she felt, no longer engulfed in the heat of the other woman’s body. Her knees had gone weak, and was grateful for the support of her vehicle. She finally turned around in time to see the intern walking backwards back into the building.
She sent her a little mock salute.
“Drive safe.”
She didn’t know how she was supposed to do that without crashing into a pole. It would’ve been comical if she didn’t feel completely unmoored.
________________________
“She did what?”
Yolanda, who stood with her arms crossed, did not think she needed to repeat herself.
“Smelled you like a terrier or something?”
Yolanda kept her eyes on the game even if she had no idea what was going on. She really only came to these things to support Emery. She wasn’t even supposed to be behind the fence where the team sat but no one dared say anything to Dr. Emery Walsh’s friend. It’s not that they were scared of Em per se, how could this gaggle of lesbians be intimidated, it was more that they knew it was futile.
“Why don’t you just ask her out, you’re both just being stubborn.”
Then in a much higher pitch that was so sudden it startled her, she growled at a teammate that had just gone up to bat.
“Try not to choke, Blake!”
The rather intimidating blonde in question paused long enough to turn and send Emery the finger in response.
“Jesus, Em.”
She should’ve been used to the surgeon’s rapport with her teammates (not to mention the back and forth at work) but this one seemed particularly aggressive.
“I think I'm in love with her.”
Her tone didn’t change at all, as if she were telling her some mundane detail about her life. Or reporting that it looked like it might rain.
“Christ, of course you are. I thought you were in love with one of the doctors in the Pitt.”
“I can accommodate both.”
She didn’t know why she thought Emery would be helpful with anything remotely resembling a love life. She huffed and finally settled onto the bench next to her friend.
_______________________
Dr. Santos had texted her to let her know she was going out with some of her colleagues from the Pitt that evening, so she was pleasantly surprised to find an envelope from said woman in her locker at the end of the day. She immediately recognized the script, even if it had obviously been written in a rush.
Dr. Garcia herself couldn’t imagine socializing so soon after the employee party, her cap was one event per week, if that. When she had free time, she luxuriated in it.
She was trying to put the embarrassing display of, dare she say it, jealousy behind her and focus on the present, on continuing to get to know Santos without any expectations or pressure. They hadn’t really seen each other since the incident in the parking lot but they were both trying to be adults about it.
She stuffed it in her bag and all but forgot about the envelope until she was cleaning up after dinner. Trinity had sent her a goodnight message, knowing she’d be too busy to look at her phone later. After rummaging around for it, she leaned against her counter and tore it open impatiently.
Her heart stopped for a moment.
It was a polaroid of Trinity. It wasn’t suggestive, not really, but it still took her breath away. Her hair was down and she wore a white tank. She couldn't see the bottom half of her but she appeared to be on her bed, clearly not wearing anything underneath the shirt. She looked casual but there was a mirth in her eyes. Underneath there was print in her loopy writing.
Think of this as a peace offering. Don’t worry about tonight, your lap is the only one I'm interested in.
xoxo
Yolanda felt herself gulp like some stupid animated character. She needed to sit down.
So of course, she spent her extra day off puttering around her apartment thinking about Trinity Santos and vehemently denying to herself that it meant anything of consequence. She had no one to be annoyed at but herself.
Naturally, her mind jumped to the last time she’d seen her in the parking lot, all of it so fraught with tension.
Your move , she had said.
Well what the fuck did she expect her to do?
Then she had delivered that polaroid and sent Yolanda on some kind of spiral. They wouldn’t see each other until their next shift together. They hadn’t made plans and the surgeon couldn’t bring herself to comment on the picture, not over text, it didn’t feel right. Reaching out felt too desperate anyway. Maybe some time apart would be healthy.
She was going to put it out of her mind and catch up on her book. Finish one of the documentaries she had started.
She was too restless to do either. She found herself on her back deck tending to her herbs and random potted plants, something that was usually soothing (she was too busy for a cat, but these could be kept alive). However, it didn’t take up a substantial amount of time and after, she was as disgruntled as when she’d begun. It was frustrating to no end, she didn’t get bored , she enjoyed her own company.
She paced around her living room, sometimes going into the kitchen to open the fridge out of something to do, it was way too early for dinner. Without really consulting her more pragmatic side, she found herself getting dressed to go out.
A thirty minute walk and a couple of phone calls and texts later she was standing in front of what was supposed to be the dwelling she had casually tried to inquire about. She hoped no one gave it a second thought, too busy compartmentalizing to feel any shame over it.
She knocked quickly before she lost her nerve.
There was loud music drifting from the other side that almost immediately turned off after.
Soon enough the door was swinging open.
Trinity did a double take, blinking up at her through large round glasses. She wore an oversized t-shirt and shorts so short they were barely visible, not that Yolanda was looking.
She fidgeted with the clear frames before scratching the back of her neck.
“Uh hey.”
“I’m sorry to drop in unexpectedly. I got your info from the ED department, I hope that’s ok.”
Yolanda felt her face heat up at the confession.
“They’ll give personal info away to just anyone, huh?”
Santos was trying to tease her but she was too flustered for it to land the way she intended.
“I should come back, you’re busy.”
She was mentally kicking herself. What the hell was wrong with her? What had possessed her to think this was a good idea on any plane of reality? It was borderline psychotic.
Santos quickly reached out to grasp her arm.
“No. Stay.”
They stood frozen looking at each other until Garcia finally relented. Once she knew she wouldn’t be a flight risk, the other woman let her go and nodded into her apartment.
“I was just reviewing, honestly I could use a break.”
Once the door was closed behind them, she placed her glasses on top of her head and rubbed her eyes. Yolanda took in the interior quietly. It was relatively clean, homey even. There were a few personal touches, flowers in a small vase, worn in furniture. Small frames housing art on the wall. A miniature dining table, piled with open medical texts and a mug of something.
“Can I get you something to drink? I have water, shitty beer and shitty wine.”
“Water is fine.”
When Trinity returned with a glass, she noticed the t-shirt properly.
“Humid Teenage Mediocrity?”
Confusion flashed across her face before she looked down at herself. She brightened considerably as she stretched the bottom out a little.
“Oh yeah. This isn’t even my favorite album but I found it thrifting, it was a fucking cool find.”
Garcia had no frame of reference but it looked like the sort of thing she would find exhausting. Seeing the earnest excitement on Trinity’s face though did something to her insides. She set her glass on the coffee table.
“You are so-”
“Charming, well-rounded, astute?”
Yolanda found herself thawing out, feeling more at ease about her impulse decision.
“I can keep going.”
“Arresting.”
Trinity flushed and turned towards the couch in the living room.
“Should we sit?”
Garcia reached for her hand before she could go any further.
“You said it was my turn. I don’t know what you want. I’m not sure that I even do.”
Trinity licked her lips and stepped further into her space. Yolanda didn’t think she would ever get enough of the way she always looked up at her, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her. That maybe Garcia wanted her back.
“I’m selfish and greedy and normally I would say I want it all, but I’m cool with whatever you’re into,” she shrugged.
Yolanda let go of her hand to caress her face. Trinity immediately closed her eyes and nuzzled into the touch. She ran it slowly down her neck, up and down her arm, then back up again to trace a mouth she’d been dreaming about. She contemplated what to do next, just barely keeping herself from sticking her thumb in when Santos’s lips parted.
“On the couch, on your back,” she murmured.
Trinity let out a puff of air and simply nodded, eyes wide. She did as she was told, hands folded over her stomach, a throw pillow propping up her head, waiting for her next direction. She thrilled at being trusted so implicitly.
Yolanda sat as far from her on the couch so as to not be touching. She took her time taking a sip of the water she’d set aside before turning to regard the intern. Trinity’s breathing was uneven and her eyes were dark, never leaving hers. She was as eager as Yolanda felt, except she had a better poker face.
“Knees raised, legs open.”
She turned red but quickly complied, lashes fluttering. It was a sight she knew she’d save to go over later with reverence. Yolanda crossed her own legs and leaned back on the arm on the couch.
On second examination, she hovered over the hem of her shirt silently asking. Trinity herself gingerly pulled it up so that she might see properly, exposing a generous amount of stomach. She was pleased at the brief glimpse confirming that the other woman was not wearing a bra.
Carefully, she removed the intern’s glasses off her head and folded them neatly on a side table.
“We can stop whenever you want, if you don’t want this, don’t feel bad about saying so.”
“I want it,” she said breathily.
“Good. Put your hand inside your underwear, I only want you to explore, we’re not working towards anything yet.”
Another quick nod and the outline of her hand could be seen making its descent. She made a little noise in her throat when she got to her destination. Yolanda’s cheeks started to warm in pleasure, not dissimilar to slipping into a steaming bath after a long shift. The outline moved around slowly, she could see Trinity was trying very hard not to buck and keep her hips still.
“How often do you do this on your own?”
Her eyes blinked as she tried to focus on the question.
“Uh, a few times a week I guess? Sometimes I start but then I’m too tired from work. You?”
“Let’s not worry about that now. What do you think about?”
There was a pause as the intern considered whether she should answer at all, or be honest, it was hard to tell. Finally she rolled her eyes, seemingly making up her mind.
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
“You don’t know that. I want to hear it.”
Her brows scrunched and she bit her lip, slowing her hand down before answering.
“You, you asshole.”
Yolanda laughed lowly, delighted.
“What about me?”
Up until then her eyes had been unfocused, but now she turned them on Garcia to glower. It had little effect with her hand still moving between her legs. She let out a little sigh and licked her lips.
“Not that it’s your business but, you. Your mouth, your hands.”
Yolanda squeezed her thighs together, she had to stay in control.
“I think about it too. Like this, except I'm doing a lot more.”
This time Trinity did buck into her hand and let out a moan at the confession.
“Well I wouldn’t stop you.”
There was a growing desperation in her tone, mirroring Yolanda’s own that she savored.
“Maybe some other time. How does it feel?”
“So good,” she panted, “it would be better if it was your mouth.”
Yolanda sat up straight and placed her hands over her knees with a firm grip, breathing out harshly through her nose. Of course she wanted nothing more than to take over for her, to pull those shorts down and give them both what they wanted. But there was an invisible barrier there she wasn’t ready to cross.
“I know, sweetheart,” she cooed,” Why don’t you finish yourself off. I just want to watch, see what you do when you’re alone thinking about me.”
Trinity didn’t need to be told twice because she sped up, lifting her hips now in earnest, as if speeding towards a finish line. All sorts of new noises made their way out of her throat, as she buried half of her face on the pillow beneath her. Her other hand grasped at whatever she could reach, blindly looking for purchase. She resisted the urge to kiss her exposed throat, to offer her hand to squeeze.
There were so many things to focus on, so many beautiful details to take in. She felt greedy soaking it all in at once. She gorged on it, thoughts hazy from a combination of lust and something akin to yearning, even having her so close.
She could hear how wet Trinity was, see the way her stomach muscles clenched, making it that much more unbearable to sit there motionless as a mere spectator. There were all these little noises trapped in her throat that sometimes managed to escape as half whines.
“I need more,” she huffed.
It would be cruel to deny her now, in fact she didn’t really want to. She didn’t think the woman needed much more anyway.
She shifted closer on the couch and placed a brief kiss on the inside of her thigh, closer than not to the knee. Trinity’s eyes fluttered open then groaned when they locked eyes.
“Go ahead, I'm here.”
She ran her hand up and down on the outside of her other thigh, wondering how soft the skin would be, closer to where Trinity's hand was. That seemed to be enough because her eyes slammed shut and her back arched off the couch as she worked herself through the orgasm.
“Fuck.”
Yolanda moved her head out of the way when her knees buckled together but continued the soothing gesture until she was done. Finally slumping back, she stopped to catch her breath, hand still in her shorts. She let out a small breathless giggle.
The surgeon felt a tightness in her chest, not bothering to fight the urge to dip down to kiss her forehead.
“You’re gorgeous. You did so well. Thank you Trinity.”
“Any time,” she laughed lazily.
She looked down between her legs and raised her eyebrows.
“May I?”
It took her foggy brain a moment to catch up to Yolanda’s request. She saw it in her eyes and her cheeks the second it registered.
“Uh, yeah.”
She shyly brought her hand out and Garcia took it carefully, bringing the index and middle fingers to her mouth. She allowed herself only a brief taste with her tongue, closing her eyes. It was as heady and rich as she had hoped and imagined.
Trinity shuddered.
“Perfect,” she sighed before placing the hand back on her stomach.
“I should go, but I look forward to seeing you again.”
Trinity blinked up at her owlishly. The relaxed expression was gone, replaced by something carefully constructed while she processed. Her chest still rose and fell from all her efforts.
Garcia pushed her glass of water towards the woman.
“Hydrate.”
She cupped one cheek and kissed the other, lingering longer than was probably smart, but she was too overwhelmed to care, buzzing with energy. She tried to sustain their eye contact, the last thing she wanted was for Trinity to feel that the surgeon was ashamed, or worse, make her feel ashamed.
She had no words to describe how she felt at the gift she’d been given. It wasn’t something she had ever tried with a partner, she was turned on but it was also humbling to be given a piece of someone so freely that way.
If Garcia were less of a coward she would press her lips to Trinity’s and attempt to convey all the emotions coursing through her, ease any anxieties about how she felt about her.
It would have to be for another occasion.
“I’ll see myself out. Have a good evening, Trinity.”
It wasn’t until she was about to close the door that she heard the faint reply.
“You too.”
In any other circumstance Yolanda would’ve rushed home to relieve herself. Instead she poured a barely touched glass of wine and stared off into the distance in her kitchen, wondering if she had been too rash about leaving so quickly. Maybe berating herself a little.
She missed the other woman already.
She could think of little else, reliving every sound and expression Trinity had made in pleasure, just for her.
What she had gotten herself into?