A/N: I don't own Person of Interest nor the characters within. So! This came about wondering about the trope of kissing to get out of being caught - which I'd seen people writing about in the Root x Shaw tumblr tag but never actually read or found any fic or drabble about it - as well as wanting to dip my toes into writing Shoot after completely drowning myself into POI for weeks on end. So, here you go. Have my tropey first try Root/Shaw fic. :D

A/N2: Also! Shout out to thedeadflag for looking over this for me. Thank you. :}

The Machine spoke to Root in tones and Morse code, numbers and clock positions and the NATO phonetic alphabet. Never did She use anything other than snippets of female voices when speaking verbally, and the few instances She talked to her via electronic billboards or texts, erupting into life out of sight of anyone else, Root had always understood that was only when she (or She) was harried, under threat of being discovered. She'd gotten used to a low buzz or tonal cascade, information constantly being murmured into her ear, so aberrations were just that: unexpected and different enough to immediately snare her attention.

So when Root entered the abandoned, repurposed subway repair station, her cochlear implant squealing at the first sight of Shaw, sweaty and glistening as she performed pull-up after pull-up on an exposed section of pipe, it made her stop. She tilted her head, brow slightly furrowing, eyes centered on the compact woman. "Really," she uncharacteristically commented.

The Machine squealed again, the end tapering off into white noise before a medley of various voices repeated Her message: "Tango, Alfa, Kilo, Echo. Hotel, Echo, Romeo." Repeating the command once more before lapsing into silence as Root nodded, quietly accepting the directive, the Machine seemed almost smug.

"Well, sweetie," Root greeted, turning her attention back to in front of her, smiling at Shaw before resting against the side of the subway car as she watched the other woman finish up another batch of pull-ups before dropping into a series of push-ups and burpees, eyes dark under her eyebrows as they glared at her, "Seems you're with me today."

"Really," Shaw replied, voice flat. She finished another round of push-ups before rolling forwards into a neat crouch. "Talked to Finch?"

Root shrugged. "I'm sure he'd understand." She smiled as Shaw rolled her eyes, plucking up the towel near her pile of stripped outerwear.

Shaw dabbed at the sweat on her neck and chest. "Alright. Is it reconnaissance? Heavy muscle?" Her lips pursed, almost smiling. "Assassination?"

Root smirked. "Try infiltration."

The 'infiltration', as it turned out, meant white blouses, black vests, and skin-tight black slacks. "You didn't tell me this mission meant going undercover as waitstaff," Shaw growled.

Root smiled, turning on her heel to smooth Shaw's dark bangs back from her face, readjusting her barrette above her right ear. Pausing, waiting for the other woman to finish scowling and jerking away before exerting more pressure, stepping forward again to finish her actions, Root stopped with both her hands resting on the crown of Shaw's head, palms almost cupping her cheeks. "How cute," she teased, "I'm sure I could help you feel even more uncomfortable."

Jerking away again, Shaw glowered at her. "Shut it. At least I can still hide a piece along my lower back. What are we here for?"

Root tapped her ear. "She hasn't told me yet."

"Great. We're playing servants." Jutting her hands out, a fierce expression on her face, Shaw waited for Root to precede her into the kitchen of the venue. "Just make sure," she muttered, close to Root's shoulder, "I don't die from boredom. Or I might just start shooting people."

Root hummed, smiling, positively amused; she teasingly tapped Shaw's cheek as she walked past her, laugh low in her throat as Shaw hissed in return. "I'll do my best."

It was two hours into their shift when Root, blending into the background of the ballroom, her fingers and thumb and wrist starting to numb from the pressure of her tray, bogged down by the weight of flutes of champagne and other pre-mixed drinks, got her first direct command. "Okay," she nodded, lips splitting into a smile as she caught Shaw's gaze, heavy and dark and annoyed across from her, scowling over the presentation of shrimp puffs at the buffet; she tapped her earpiece, bringing Shaw into audible focus. "We've got some directions now."

Bringing her own hand up, clicking her earpiece on as if she hadn't been listening for the prior hours, Shaw cocked her head, eyebrows furrowing over her brow. "Great. Who'm I kneecapping?"

Root sighed, affectionately shaking her head even as her lips turned up. "No one, sweetie. We're here for information, remember?"

"No, you just said infiltration. Not information."

Root laughed. She turned her body, angling it towards the society woman padding towards her, hand out and forward to grab a champagne flute; waiting until she made a decision as to what she wanted, she smiled fakely, swiveling on her heel to once again keep her back to the wall as soon as the woman stalked off. "Well as it turns out, this'll be a bit of both." She surveyed the room, calmly finding the man The Machine had pointed out to her. Her lips curved up. "Well."

"What?"

Tilting her head, Root gave Shaw a wide smile. "Remember that Wall Street exec who spent at least ten minutes staring down your blouse?"

A rough sigh met her ears. "Somehow I'm not surprised you saw that."

"Why do you think I kept talking to you? I knew you were listening. We couldn't afford to get you kicked out for taking him down."

Shaw sent her a very fake, very toothy smile, more of a grimace than anything else. "You should have let me. Men like that don't deserve to breathe."

Shifting her tray again, Root affectionately rolled her eyes. "You'll thank me one day," she lilted. When Shaw only growled wordlessly at her, the plate of shrimp puffs she was in charge of almost slamming onto the table when she pointlessly picked it up just to rotate it to present the less picked at side to the front of the buffet, Root allowed another humored smile to cross her face. "Anyway, sweetie," she started pointedly, drawing all of Shaw's attention on her, "He's our mark. The partner to the man throwing this party, he has an unfortunate habit of keeping his important files in his coworker's safes."

Shaw snorted. "Smart." Her tone suggested anything but. "So you need me to break into said safe?"

Almost apologetic that she had to shut down the anticipatory smirk on Shaw's face, Root shook her head. "Sorry, Sameen. You're the distraction. She's already told me the combination. And this is my best time to use it." Depositing her tray onto a free table near her, Root walked through the room, giving Shaw a wink as she passed her, "I just need you to make sure I don't get caught."

"Fine. Distraction." Shaw squared her shoulders, cracking her neck, "Can do."

Secure that she was covered, Root didn't look back as she entered the hallway leading to the office.

Fifteen minutes later, Shaw's voice crackled just below The Machine's tonal warning, "Incoming."

"I still need a few minutes," Root answered calmly, sorting through the various folders and packets that the safe revealed, completely ignoring the rolls of bills and gleaming jewels glittering up at her.

"Well, you might need a few minutes, but it doesn't mean you have those minutes."

The Machine echoed Shaw's words.

Root raised her eyebrows, rifling through the folder she'd been looking for. "And you can't provide some way of giving me more time?" she pouted dramatically, finally pulling out the specific page she'd been looking for, smoothly folding it and stuffing it into the pocket of her vest. "You disappoint me." Shaw's presence immediately prickled in her ear, and she smiled, triumphant at that reaction.

As if unsure who she had been talking to, The Machine gave her a low, chiding hum.

"I should just leave you there to get caught," Shaw hissed, the ambient noise from her earpiece telling Root she was on the move.

"But where would the fun be in that? You'd have to come after me," Root teased, already closing and locking the safe behind her as she turned, unsurprised in the least to see Shaw practically barrel into the office, only barely not slamming the door shut behind her. She grinned, meeting the smaller woman in the middle of the room, just in front of the large dark stained oak desk.

Shaw glared up at her, dark eyes sparking. "You'd be so lucky to be gone after."

"Well, let's not forget you already have. So, second time's the charm? I'm sure you'd find something fun to do. Shooting people... Causing mayhem... You know, your norm." Reaching out, wrapping her hands around Shaw's upper arms, Root tilted her head. "We're really going to do this?" she asked lightly, mouth only a second away from smirking.

"Like we have a choice to change the options now," Shaw deadpanned, only the light furrowing of her brow showing how she (possibly) felt about the whole thing. "You're the one who took so long." Reluctantly, her hands dropped heavily onto Root's hips.

Trying to hide the instinctual shiver that brought out, Root smiled as she leaned in, nodding as she acknowledged The Machine's accelerating warning beep. "Incoming in less than ten seconds," she whispered.

Shaw exhaled, finally rolling her eyes and yanking Root closer.

Still laughing, Root managed to push Shaw back so she leaned against the desk. Then, swooping in, she stopped just before their lips touched, waiting in the heavy silence.

Even as much as she wanted to, she didn't kiss Shaw until the door opened.

"I can't believe you did that," Shaw spat, still grumbling five hours later after their shift was up.

Root rolled her eyes, leaving the car door she'd just jimmied open, allowing Shaw to jump into the driver's seat as she took the passenger's seat, having made sure to unlock it, The Machine keeping it unlocked before Shaw could peel off without her. "It was one five second kiss, if that," she shook her head, clicking her seat belt on and leaning back, closing her eyes to better hear The Machine's chatter. "Are you really telling me you've never resorted to that diversionary tactic before?"

"That's not the point. It was stupid, is what it was. And dangerous. Dammit, Root." Starting the ignition and stomping her foot down on the acceleration, Shaw shot the sports car forward, seamlessly blending into the traffic, "What were you thinking?"

"Maybe that my lookout could've found some other way to distract the guards? Honestly, Shaw, you're acting like that was the first time you'd ever thought of us being that close." Root rolled her eyes, frowning. "It's not my fault that was what you were obviously coming into the office for."

Shaw glared at her. "If you had just done your job - "

Root smiled fakely, abruptly cutting her off by sitting forward and setting her hand onto the door latch. "As much fun as this conversation is, drop me off at the next intersection, please," she relayed calmly, "She has a new mission for me."

"I should just lock you up in the subway, see how you like it," Shaw muttered, but screeched to a halt at the right place, an incredibly skeptical glower on her face. When Root made to scoot out, feet just touching the asphalt, she raised her voice, "Keeping the car!"

"She already arranged for that," Root answered, straightening and sighing, already pulling the pair of gloves The Machine had directed her to steal from another waiter's locker earlier that morning. "At least until Wednesday. That's when the police will find the dead body in the trunk. So make sure to clear out by 10 AM."

Shaw abruptly dropped her smirk. "Dammit," she muttered, closing her eyes and shaking her head, purposefully not looking at the other woman closing the car door behind her; she pulled away, barely waiting for Root to clear the bumper.

Allowing a smile as she disappeared into the night, Root watched the glow of the break lights fade into the distance. The Machine chattered in her ear, and she smiled for another reason entirely. "Right," she agreed, making her way to the building down the street, picking up the crowbar propped up against a car parked on the curb, smoothly sliding it into her coat before the owner could notice it was missing, "Break in and set up the space, then drop the keys off at the subway for when she needs it next week." Her smile sharpened. "Looking forward to it."