One more night
Shaw sat herself at the kitchen table, watched hungrily as Root brought her a plate of pancake, maple syrup running thickly to the plate. Root brought herself a plate over too, sat it on the table and sat down opposite Shaw. Watched Shaw eat hungrily. Not hungry for breakfast, but hungry for the frank appreciation Shaw had for her cooking, hungry for Shaw's praise, hungry for the joy of providing sustenance for Shaw.
"They're good," Shaw said with some surprise. "Really, really good," she continued, mouth full again.
"Old family recipe," Root said. Reveling in the moment, that Shaw was letting her take care of her, even momentarily. She took her first bite then, sneaking glances over when Shaw grunted in pleasure.
"Gotta get to work," Shaw said finally, getting up to rinse her plate. She walked into the lounge, pulling her singlet over her head, pulling a bra out of the duffel, turning slightly as Root choked on one of her pancakes. Smiled to herself, pulled her dress over her head, shucking off her shorts and slipping on her stilettos. She grabbed her purse, hesitated. "Mind if I leave this here?" She asked casually. "If I have the keys today I'll come get it after work."
"Not a problem," Root managed, still sucking in air. Shaw smiled, locked the door behind her.
Root went through her day, expecting a phone call, for Shaw to say she needed to stay again, or to say that she'd picked up her things and left the key.
Nothing.
She satisfied herself with knowing that Shaw knew where she lived, had her own key.
When Root came home, the place felt empty. Shaw's duffel was still on the coffee table, so Root assumed she'd be by sometime.
She peeked inside; guns, as she'd assumed. Pants, a jacket, another black dress, presumably for work.
Underwear; utilitarian, black and incredibly soft.
There were footsteps outside and the sound of a key in the lock. Root dropped the underwear, scuttled into the kitchen, opened the fridge.
"Oh, you're home. I've got to help Reese," Shaw said by way of greeting.
"I know," Root said cockily. She shut the fridge, eyed Shaw as she pulled her dress off and shrugged on a hoodie, pants. Shaw looked up, rolled her eyes at Root's obvious interest.
"I haven't had a chance to get my keys from Finch yet," Shaw said nervously. "If we're done early, can I stay again? And if not, can I swing by for my dress?"
"Absolutely. Mi casa su casa."
"Thanks Root," Shaw said, tucking guns into her ankle holster and the back of her pants. Knife up the sleeve; looked like a fun night.
"Sure you guys won't need a hand?" Root asked wistfully.
"Nah," Shaw looked up at Root finally, tucking her feet into her sneakers. She put her stilettos and dress in the duffel. Tidy, efficient.
"And you won't be by for dinner?" Root asked, a little disappointed. She'd had plans; the way to Shaw's heart was clearly through her stomach.
"Nah," Shaw paused. "What were you thinking of having?"
"I make a mean lasagna," Root said, and Shaw knew that no one could possibly make lasagna sound suggestive, but damn if Root didn't make it sound hot. "I can leave some in the fridge, for when you get in," Root suggested, and Shaw smiled.
Shaw came in after midnight, and Root looked up from her computer.
"Went well?" Root asked, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes.
"Yeah, we got them," Shaw said. "One nearly got me, though. Fast bastard," Shaw shrugged off her hoodie, holding one arm stiffly against her. Root got to her feet, strode over to Shaw. Bruises already forming on her shoulder and arm; fist fight, not fire. A scrape to her forehead, another on her forearm. Broken skin over the knuckles.
Root took Shaw's hand, led her to the table. Disappeared into the kitchen, came back with a medical pack.
"I've got this," Shaw said, dodging Root's attempt to clean a cut with an antiseptic wipe. "But I've been thinking about your lasagna all night."
Root took the hint, went to warm the leftovers she'd put aside for Shaw.
"How are you going to explain that at work tomorrow?," Root asked, touching Shaw's forehead.
"Makeup covers a lot of sins," Shaw said complacently, not shrugging Root away. "Lasagna?" Shaw asked hopefully as the microwave beeped.
"What were you doing up so late, anyway? You weren't… worried about me, were you?' Shaw asked teasingly as Root placed a plate of lasagna in front of her. Meaty, with crispy cheese.
"No, just working on a hash, some code. Looking through what we've been able to find of Samaritan, trying to find a weak point," Root said, sounding a little exhausted.
"Oh," Shaw said, slightly deflated, not knowing Root was pretending she hadn't been waiting up for her; she'd just found something to fill her time, keep her worried mind away from the danger Shaw might be in. But to have Shaw so visibly disappointed…
"Sorry I didn't call earlier," Shaw said suddenly. "About the keys. I thought I was going to have time, but then Reese called while I was heading to the subway, it seemed easier to swing by here first."
Root looked up, surprised. She hadn't expected an apology, even if she had spent half the day wondering about if Shaw was coming over or not. She hadn't expected Shaw to be crushed to find out Root wasn't waiting up for her. She hadn't expected Shaw to willingly share a bed with her, or last night, consciously hold her.
Shaw's behaviour was… not what Root had been expecting at all. She'd expected Shaw to cave and jump her, or leave in frustration at Root's flirting. But Shaw was… a surprisingly good house guest, if frustrating at times. She was clean, appreciative of Root's cooking, and surprisingly physically affectionate.
"It's ok," Root said finally. "I knew you'd be back for your guns." Root turned back to her computer. Shaw turned to the lasagna in front of her, dug her fork in.
"Damn, that's delicious," Shaw said approvingly, and Root focused on her screen, blushing a little. "I swear, if you keep feeding me like this, I might…" Shaw drifted off, 'not want to leave', the unfinished sentence.
"Might what?" Root asked curiously.
"Might drop by for dinner more often," Shaw finished lamely.
Shaw had a shower and went to bed first again, stretching on her way. She had a day job, after all.
Root joined her later, holding herself stiffly away from Shaw, who rolled over, caught Root in the sheets and pulled Root into her arms.
Root was sure Shaw was awake, sure Shaw didn't like cuddling.. but here she was for the third night in a row, wrapped in Shaw's strong arms. It was confusing to Root, not knowing what she meant to Shaw, knowing she obviously meant something, but not knowing what. She knew Shaw had feelings, really deep down, hidden to everyone, even Shaw. So even asking Shaw wouldn't give Root the answers she wanted.
Root was tempted to kiss Shaw, an obviously romantic gesture, just to see what would happen. It might be their last night together, it might be her last chance.
But Shaw was a guest in her home, with nowhere else to stay. If Shaw stormed out, Root would worry all night where she'd gone, what she'd done to this… frankly comfortable… friendship.
And Root understood the power imbalance here, that Shaw was kind of trapped with nowhere else to go and might see it as an attempt at coercion. Might feel obligated, feel like it was a condition of Root's hospitality. If it's not an enthusiastic yes, it's a firm no.
So Root pressed her lips to Shaw's collarbone, rested her head on Shaw's considerable chest and closed her eyes.
But as Root was falling asleep, she could swear she could feel Shaw's fingers running through her hair, over her back.
Shaw didn't do feelings, didn't do company, didn't do friends.
But she did like the way Root didn't belittle her for any of that, the way she accepted Shaw for who she was, rather than expecting more from her.
Liked the way Root made her feel welcome without having to participate. Like the way Root made her… feel.
Like she was home, like she was cared for. Like what made her different was a selling point rather than a deterrent. They'd known each other long enough to feel like they knew each other, long enough that sharing a small space like this wasn't suffocating.
And it was more than that, Shaw liked the way Root looked in her pants - and even more without them - the way she looked holding two guns, one gun, any weapon, a spatula. The way she smiled at Shaw like she liked what she saw, not just physically but deep down, the parts of herself Shaw worried about, she felt like Root saw them and liked them.
For someone without feelings, she was sure feeling a lot.
Root rolled away from Shaw in her sleep, floppy limbs loose with sleep. Shaw hesitated, remembered how easily she'd woken when Root had held her the night before.
Then she wrapped an arm over Root anyway. Root sighed contentedly, and Shaw smiled. She wasn't sure what was happening here, had expected a couple of nights of hot, vigorous sex. But this was… comfortable.
Shaw woke up alone, well rested. She stretched, feeling the cuts on her knuckles tug open as she did. A few days, they'd heal. She could hear Root in the kitchen, could smell something good. She got up, padded into the kitchen with her hair loose, feet bare.
Root was at the stove, humming as she flipped the toast in the pan. She turned when she heard Shaw, smiled at her.
"I'll get the keys today," Shaw said hesitantly. "Thanks for letting me stay. I'll come by for my things after work."
"Come by any time. You're always welcome here," Root said seriously, focusing on the pan, the bread.
"Do you need me to do anything?"
"Juice in the fridge?" Shaw got two glasses from the cupboard over the sink, poured the juice, took the glasses to the table and sat down, watching Root cook, watching Root's butt in the tight pants she'd worn to bed the night before. Root didn't notice, too focused on the frying pan. Finally she turned the stove off, brought a plate over, stacked high with toast. Shaw took a slice, and Root watched her intensely. Shaw put it back down, sighed.
"I didn't mean… I don't want you to think…" Shaw started, and Root's heart sank, waiting for Shaw to tell her that the cuddling meant nothing, that she was just cold or some other brush off.
"If I'd wanted… if I hadn't wanted… I wouldn't have gotten into bed with you. And if I had, and I didn't, I wouldn't have slept close to you. I don't do sleepovers, Root. I barely do one night stands. I could have got the keys last night. I had time to see Finch first. I have… enjoyed the time I've spent here with you. The food. The hot water in your shower. I've never slept so well. Never had… somewhere this safe. So. Thanks, I guess. I didn't want you to think I was ungrateful, when I didn't call yesterday. This is just…"
"Outside your scope?" Root asked, and Shaw nodded thankfully.
"Well, you're welcome here anytime. I'll be making chicken pot pie on Friday if you're in the area."
Shaw stuffed french toast into her mouth and smiled through it.
"I'll make sure I am." And Root looked at her, really looked and saw a lost little girl, unsure of her place in the world, a starving animal, a stray that had been too long away from human contact that would…
Root leaned over, picked up another slice of toast, held it toward Shaw's mouth, watched as Shaw pulled it from her hand with her teeth.
A wild animal that trusted her. That would eat from her hand, like a stray dog that mistrusted humans; terrifying to all but those who could read their body language and see that they were just protecting themselves from the past.
"I'll pick up my stuff once I get the keys after work," Shaw said, not quite asking.
"I'll expect you for dinner," Root said.
"I'd like that," Shaw said honestly. She stood, hunger sated, and dressed again, this time not turning so far away, hearing Root choke on the toast as she shrugged her singlet off.
Root stood, and Shaw pulled her dress on quickly. Root stopped in front of her, and Shaw put a hand on her shoulder to stop her getting closer, unsure of her intentions. Her hand, of its own volition, raised to cup Root's cheek.
Shaw ran her hand down Root's face, down to her throat, felt Root's pulse quicken under her fingers.
"You're not scared of me, are you?" Shaw asked, uncertain. She liked people to be afraid of her, but somehow it made her disappointed in herself that Root might be.
"No, sweetie," Root said honestly.
"Then why is your heart beating faster?" Shaw challenged. Root didn't answer; not in words, but the way she looked at Shaw was straightforward enough to even be read by a sociopath. Shaw noted her thumb was resting on Root's lips, and when she traced Root's lower lip, Root opened her mouth a little, and Shaw pulled away with a jolt at the sensation of Root's warm tongue against her thumb. She looked up at Root, looked away with something that looked suspiciously like a blush.
"See you tonight." Shaw said abruptly, and the door slammed behind her. Root ran a finger over her own lips and smiled.
Author's note:
It's been a really rough couple of months; constantly dislocating joints, as well as a rough time at work; too much relies on me, and I have no one to hand off to so I can take leave.
This is my safe place. This is the only thing getting me through most of my days; come home, see my bird, watch a few episodes and write if I can.
Please review if you liked it; more is coming anyway, but I like to hear from people as into this ship as me.
