Shaw

She's been staring at me all night. I keep waiting for her to come over and hit on me, so I can turn her away before she even gets the first, cheesy word out, but so far, she just watches. I'm not sure if I can appreciate her distance when she keeps looking at me like I'm naked. She isn't even trying to hide it. I know she'll approach me at some point. I might not have much experience with being hit on by women, but the look is the same on any gender. And she has been eye-fucking me for the last forty minutes.

I don't entirely mind it. Since she is keeping her distance. I can appreciate an admiring look, although she is far beyond coy glances at this point. The intensity of her focus should be creepy, but for some reason, it's not. It's almost...electrifying. Every time our eyes meet, a current runs through me. So I don't mind her looking. And objectively speaking, but she's not so bad herself. Tall, for a woman, I'd guess edging on six feet, especially with those heels on. Long legs, sturdy, but not thick and muscled, like mine. Not overly curvy, either; more lithe, like a swimmer. She has pale skin and brunette curls brushing her shoulders and caramel eyes. Not bad looking at all. And she knows how to dress to make the most of her looks. She's wearing black wedge boots, dark wash skinny jeans, a plain white shirt, and a sexy, black leather jacket. It's a simple look, but it suits her, and the dark colors enhance her creamy skin.

Yeah, I've looked too. Hard not to, with the feeling of her gaze on me. And if she's going to blatantly check me out, I may as well return the favor. I'm surprised to find that she doesn't flinch away from my gaze, even though I know it to be less than welcoming. She just stares back, a small smile on her lips, like she enjoys my looking. I kind of like that she isn't so easily turned away. I can't bring myself to fuck a guy that can't look me in the eye or shakes like a leaf at my abrasiveness; she would be no different.

Not that I plan to let her get very far. But the longer she stares, the more curious I get. I want to know how she plans to go about this. I want to know what she'll say when she does finally approach me. If she tries a line on me, I think I might actually experience something akin to disappointment. Maybe.

But so far, she just watches. I could leave and end this stand-off. Would she follow me? I'm betting she will. I'm tempted to try it and see. Quite frankly, I don't even know why I'm here. This particular lame excuse for a party is intern-hosted, cause that's the only way interns get to do anything fun, but it's women only. Which is good for mixing up the usual attendees, but not so good for trolling for hook-ups. I could be studying right now. I wish I was. It would be more fun. But I get sick of staring at my walls, sometimes, and nothing else was happening tonight. So here I am, surrounding by a fuck ton of estrogen and not enough drinkable alcohol. Not that I won't resort to the swill when I get desperate enough, but for now, I'm sticking to what I brought.

That's why I get invited, I know. Because I bring better stuff than most interns will even bother trying to afford. That's fine with me, though, because I don't come for their company. Tonight, it's a mix of interns, first-year residents, nurses, and random plus-ones. There's quite a few people I don't recognize, but only one of them has even come close to warranting my attention.

I look back to the brunette. I allow our eyes to meet again, enjoy the jolt that comes from connecting to her powerful gaze. There is something undeniably intriguing about her. Call it simple curiosity, but I can feel myself being drawn in. And since she's the most interesting thing to happen around here in months, I'm content to let this, whatever it is, happen however it will.

It takes another thirty-four minutes, I count them closely, before I see her move toward me. She's not subtle in this, either. Still watching me with obvious interest, she walks right up to where I'm sitting and joins me.

But she doesn't say anything. I raise one eyebrow. I find that people fill the need to fill the silence left by my distaste for small talk, so I just wait.

But she's good. Patient. She just smirks and continues staring.

Annoyance fills me. "I'm starting to suspect I need a restraining order."

Root

"Who is that?" I point at the eye candy I can't look away from.

Sharlene follows the line of my finger and almost chokes on her beer.

"What?"

"Um...that's Sameen Shaw. And...I know that look." She shakes her head. "Don't bother, Root."

"Why not?"

"Oh, so many reasons." She starts counting off on her fingers. "One, she's mean. Two, she's...weird."

"Weird, how?" I cut in.

"She's kind of, um, emotionless. She doesn't seem to feel...anything." She hurriedly adds, "I know that sounds dumb, but seriously, she's like, empty, all the time. I don't know, maybe she just hides it really well, but I've only ever seen her angry. She doesn't smile, she doesn't get embarrassed, she doesn't get happy, she doesn't show pleasure, or flattery, or...anything." Sharlene makes a face. "It's just a theory, but we all figure there's something wrong with her."

I say nothing, but I don't think it sounds all that bad. So she doesn't feel like other people. Emotions are annoying and messy. If she's really that empty inside, she must be incredibly clear-minded. I'm jealous, not turned off.

Sharlene keeps going, still using her fingers as a reference point. "Three, I'm pretty sure she's straight."

"Pretty sure?"

"Only ever seen her with guys. Never seen her even look at another woman."

I shrug, hardly deterred. "I can turn a straight girl."

"You say that like you do it all the time." Sharlene is grinning like I've told a joke.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Not all the time. But it's not as rare you might suspect. And people's sexuality is never as set in stone as they think it is. You just have to find their triggers." I eye Sameen again. "I bet I can find hers."

"Whatever. When she rejects you, I am going to say I told you so."

I scoff.

"It's your neck on the line."

"You say that like you mean it. Literally. As if she might hurt me for hitting on her?" I raise both eyebrows now.

"She might. That's number four; she's not just mean, she's violent. I've seen her punch two people just since New Year's. One of them did deserve it, I saw him grope her, but he was like a foot taller, and she knocked him out with one hit."

Oh yeah, definitely turned on.

"The other was another girl. I wasn't there for that, but I heard she said something nasty, Shaw punched her, and then said, 'On the bright side, you have a good excuse for more plastic surgery'."

I snort a laugh.

"It gets better. She dick stomped a second guy, I don't know why, and threw yet another into a wall for reasons still unknown. So yeah, she might actually hurt you for hitting on her."

I grin at her over my margarita.

She sighs. "Fine, whatever, crazy. If that's your thing... But word to the wise, don't touch her. Go there right off the bat and sex is definitely out of the cards."

"Maybe a girl likes a little pain with her pleasure." Sharlene makes a noise I can't interpret and don't care to. I'm watching Sameen again. "Noted," I tell her anyway.

She shakes her head slowly. "You're insane, woman."

I lean against the counter. "Just confident." I glance over her shoulder. "Plus, she's the hottest woman in this hospital, I'm sure of it. Like, mouth watering, make-a-fool-of-yourself, fuck-me-now, sizzling hot." I sigh longingly, extra emphasis on the sound just to mess with Sharlene.

She laughs. "You've got it that bad? I guess, if that's your thing..."

"Have you looked at her? You don't even have to like women to agree she's hot." I get a one shoulder shrug, the vague, non-committal kind. "That is the kind of hot that is worth getting rejected over. Hell, I might not even mind if she punched me." Sharlene's eyes go wide. "She could, if she wanted to...and then lock me in a cage...and-"

"I don't need you to fill me in, thanks. Wherever that fantasy is going, keep it in your head."

I chuckle and finish my drink. I look back over at Sameen, though I did note that Sharlene only called her by her last name, and find her looking around distastefully. Why is she here? She clearly doesn't want to be.

I ask as much.

"We don't like to invite her, to be honest. But she always brings good alcohol, so we still ask. Most of the time, she doesn't actually come." Sharlene's brow furrows. "I don't know why she does, honestly, ever. We're not friends, she doesn't have friends. And she just sits there and drinks, plus, I'm pretty sure she doesn't enjoy being here, either."

Must be the company, I think. I've nothing against Sharlene, she's nice enough. But she's, well, like everyone else in the world. And that's boring.

But Sameen Shaw isn't. And I want to know why. Her dark eyes meet mine, the first time I've seen her acknowledge anyone all night, and my breath catches. Oh yes, I want to get to know her very much. While I will fuck her six ways from Sunday.

"Tell me about her," I murmur.

Sharlene makes a face. "Why? I already did."

"No, you told me you don't like her. And that she's got a good hook. Tell me about her."

"I really don't know. She doesn't talk much. Most interns stay pretty close to each other; we have to, to work so closely together. But not Shaw. She's a loner. She goes out to drink and hook up, but that's it. She doesn't interact with us unless she has to, she works the most out of anyone, and...I think I heard that she was an orphan?" She waves her hand. "I don't know if that's true, but the rare times she speaks, she doesn't mention family. Not that she'd talk about anything personal, anyway."

"Guess I'll have to find out some things for myself." She is still watching me. Her gaze is intense, like lasers boring through me. It's uncomfortable and hot and I never want it to stop. I've never had anyone look at me like that. A shiver traces my spine. I know she can't hear us from where she's sitting, but perhaps she can read lips. Does she know we're talking about her?

I keep my eyes on hers, not blinking, not flinching. I like her intensity; I like having all of it on me. Maybe it's best that she usually keeps to herself. Most people couldn't handle someone like her. They'd be too intimidated, too overshadowed to handle her presence. That's one thing I have found true in almost everyone. They don't like to be overshadowed. Even when they're too shy to take the spotlight themselves, they can't handle the group's attention on anyone else.

But I'm not intimidated. And I want her to know it. I hope whatever she sees intrigues her. All I need is for her to be least half as interested as she has me spellbound, and I might get past the first word.

Still, I hold back. I didn't need Sharlene to warn me off in order to know not to approach her right away. This isn't a woman who wants a clever line or compliments from a stranger. I sensed from the moment I laid on eyes on her that I needed to bide my time.

And so I wait. I wait for her to acknowledge my gaze. That takes forty-three minutes into the party. I wait for her to check me out. That takes another twenty-two minutes. I wait for a sign, of curiosity, of interest. That's another seventeen minutes. And then I wait a little longer, because I won't approach her until I'm ready, not when she is. Even though I can't take my eyes off her, even though I'd give my best laptop just to touch her sweet body, I wait.

Only when she's staring right back, just as steadily and intently, only then do I walk over. I take the seat next to her on the couch without asking. She doesn't seem surprised at my presumption. Her dark eyes take me in, betraying nothing. Like she's daring me to speak. Again, I wait. My silence is an invitation, and I need her to take it. If I start, I've already lost.

It takes several minutes before she loses patience.

"I'm starting to suspect I need a restraining order."

I laugh in surprise and delight. "Well, I'm not usually opposed to restraints, but when you say it, it doesn't sound like the fun kind."

Her face still gives nothing away. "You don't bother with pleasantries, you aren't laying a line on me, and you haven't even given me your name. What else am I supposed to think?"

"Small talk is boring, I have other things I'd rather lay on you, and my name is Root."

"What do you want, Root?"

"You."

She doesn't even flinch. "I'm not a possession."

I laugh again. "No, you're not. You're a beautiful woman who should be taken home and properly fucked."

"And I suppose you're one for the job?"

"I know I am."

She hums. "What makes you think I'm available?"

"A hunch."

"Would you stop hitting on me if I told you I was seeing someone?"

I pretend to consider it. "No."

"Classy."

I shake my head. "If he can't hold your interest, he doesn't deserve it."

"Good life outlook, that. But I'm not interested."

"Why not?" I'm so engaged in our verbal foreplay, my drink sits forgotten in my lap. I'm twisted on the couch to face her, both for easier conversation and because I can't bear to not be looking at her.

"Cause you don't have a dick," she spits.

"I can get one. In fact, I have several sizes, and you're welcome to choose the one you like best."

She looks at me like she's trying to decide if I'm crazy. She's welcome to think I am, everyone else does. It doesn't mean I can't still take her home.

"Sameen, is it? Can I call you that?"

"No."

"Okay, sweetie," I chuckle.

"Who told you my name?"

"I've been asking about you."

"And what did they tell you?" She takes a drink from the bottle in her hand. She truly gives away nothing. I can't tell if she's bored, annoyed, aroused, curious, or anything at all. It's fascinating.

"First, that you're abrasive, which I can see for myself."

"And yet, you're still here."

"I'm very persistent," I reassure her. "Second, you have a tendency to get violent."

"I don't like to be touched." She raises her eyebrow again, as if challenging me.

So I lean forward and tell her gleefully, "I do like it...rough." She scoffs. "Thirdly, you're an intern. Which means you work too much and have little to show for it. Sounds to me like you could use to de-stress a little."

"By letting you fuck me?"

I nod.

She tilts her head, as if considering it. And then leans forward to meet me. "When I want to get fucked, I'll find someone who can actually do the job."

I'm mildly insulted, if not surprised. But her breath puffing on my lips as she speaks slowly and deliberately is enough to keep those words from deterring me too much. This one time, I'm happy to set the record straight. And I want to up the ante, but I'm pretty sure kissing her now would be a mistake.

Instead, I lean in as well and put my lips to her ear. "I assure you, nothing I do to you will leave you wanting." I think I might feel her flinch away just the tiniest bit from my hot breath, but I'm not sure. "On the contrary, I'll have you begging for more." I flick the tip of my tongue over her ear as I pull away, not giving her time to shove distance between us.

To her credit, her face is still very carefully blank. But her pupils are dilated, an unavoidable sign of arousal for even the most composed people. If nothing else, she likes dirty talk. Noted. I suspect she also appreciates my forward approach, even if she'd never admit it. She's at least curious, or I never would've made it this far.

"I don't beg." She takes a long pull from her beer. "And I don't need to ask for more, because I'm too busy taking it."

"You can take anything you want from me." I smirk.

"Your ability to speak? Because I'm getting bored."

I don't believe her. I shift on the couch and find myself wetter than I expected. This verbal foreplay is fun, but sitting next to her, feeling the warmth of her body, her intense eyes drilling right through me...it's hot. I've never enjoyed propositioning someone so much. Hell, at this point, I'd trade all of my orgasms for the night, just for the chance to worship her exquisite body. I don't care if I come, so long as I get to bury my face between her legs, just once.

"Then let's stop playing games. I've told you what I want."

"Maybe you missed the part where I said I wasn't interested?"

"No, I heard that lie. I'm more hung up on the part where you think I can't give you satisfaction."

She chuckles, and the low sound of it makes tingles run through me, gathering in an ache between my legs. Dear god, the effect she has... "I didn't actually say that."

"Oh? What then?" I can't help but notice the way my own voice is getting lower in pitch.

She sighs, as if having to explain herself shouldn't be necessary. "I'm not saying a woman can't give another woman an orgasm. I do have an understanding of biology." I quirk my lips at her sarcasm. "But that doesn't mean anything. An orgasm in and of itself isn't enough."

"Ah, I see. So I can't make you come hard enough."

She shrugs, as if suggesting, 'You said it, not me'.

"Oh, honey." I cluck my tongue, both a touch condescending and I-feel-sorry-for-you. "You have no idea what I'm capable of doing to you. I could promise you again that you'll like it far more than you think..." I scoot closer, bringing us just shy of touching, "or I could just show you. You seem like the type who needs proof."

She rolls her eyes. "And why would I let you? I have better things to do."

I call her on that without hesitation. "Which is why you're here." The derision in my voice is clear. "How about you give me a reason why not."

"Since not being into women isn't enough for you, how about...I just don't want to?"

I chuckle. "I doubt that. They told me something else about you." She doesn't ask what, but I know I have her attention. "You come to these things for the alcohol and to troll for hook-ups. In fact, that's all you do, isn't it? Relationships aren't an option for you?"

"Your point?"

I'm pleased she doesn't try to deny it. "I don't want a relationship. I want sex. Worst case scenario, you get an orgasm out of it, right?"

She scoffs and finishes her beer. "Maybe. I'm not convinced you can even do that much."

I don't believe her. Besides, I know I can do so much more than that.

"If you're right, and I can't fulfill your needs, then I leave. Unsatisfied. You get the best of both worlds."

"I don't see what you expect you're getting out of it." I notice how careful she is with her phrasing, not even suggesting that I might win.

I smile, slow and predatory. I lean forward again, putting my mouth to her ear. "I get to fuck you. That's reward enough." I lick her ear again, note that she doesn't push me away. "But if I'm right...you fuck me, too. All. Night. Long." I punctuate each word with a kiss to her neck. And god, she smells divine. Woodsy, cedar and pine and summer air. I trail my lips over soft skin, waiting to be pushed away. I dare to taste her when my lips land again, running my tongue over her skin. She tastes even better.

Shaw shoves me away from her, more accurately, off of her. Her brow is furrowed, her lips turned down. I'd label that expression as 'disgust', if I didn't know better. But maybe it's more the setting. PDA isn't my thing either, I just got carried away. It's unusually easy to do with her, I find.

She makes a sound in the back of her throat, fists clenched. "You're insane. And forward and too touchy and you clearly can't take 'no' for an answer. Are you fucking crazy?" I don't answer and her scowl deepens. "My place. If you can't make me come without your toys, you're useless to me."

A/N: What do you think of a non-POI setting? This is my first time writing something like this, and it's harder than I thought. Who are they without the numbers, without The Machine and their mission?