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Trinity’s not quite sure when the evening went this off the rails. Maybe after the sixth round of shots. Or was it the seventh.
Either way, her apartment is filled to the brim with med students and doctors. The occasion? Dennis finally joining the ranks of the latter. He’s probably around here somewhere, or maybe he slipped off to his room when he lost the fight with his fifth shot of the evening. Or maybe it was the eighth? Trinity has lost count. All she remembers is playing the part of dutiful roomie and rubbing his back while he hunched over the toilet bowl.
Now, the edges of her vision are swimming and her limbs feel like they belong to someone else. There’s a light drizzle out the window, and her couch is so, so fucking comfortable. Has it always been this comfortable? Maybe. Debatable. She can’t really seem to keep her eyes open.
“Where was the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”
She’s not certain how she knows that that question was directed her way, but it snaps her out of her drunken revery anyway. Trinity blinks, and blinks again, and Samira eventually comes back into focus. She’s got one of her perfect, knowing eyebrows raised at her, a smirk on her lips, and Trinity has to swim against the tide of intoxication to remember what it is they’re doing here.
“Huh?” she asks, eloquent, and there’s a ripple of laughter around the room.
“Your turn for a truth,” Victoria reminds her, impish grin on her lips.
Oh, right. Truth or dare.
Or, at least, it was truth or dare. It was Victoria herself who had started it what feels like hours ago at this point, and Trinity was pretty sure it was all an excuse to get Mateo to strip off his shirt – as she’d dared him to do immediately. The good sport that he is, he’d taken it in stride with only a faint blush on his cheeks. He hadn’t bothered to put the shirt back on, though and keeps tossing the young med student lingering looks. So maybe Victoria isn’t barking up the entirely wrong tree.
As the general energy levels of the evening have worn away, though, it’s turned into more of a “truth or truth” situation. I’ll answer your entirely too-personal question and then throw one at the next person in line. If they were a little more sober, it would probably be harassment of some kind. Trinity isn’t sure it’s not, but no one has cried foul yet.
And, apparently, now it’s her turn to be the victim.
“Oh, fuck,” she laughs, head tilted toward the ceiling as her mind, sluggish, tries to catch up to Samira’s question. “The weirdest place I’ve had sex. Uh.”
It’s not the most invasive question, as far as truth or truths can go. Trinity can feel the gazes of the assembled crowd - just a half-dozen of them left by this point, most everyone who doesn’t have a shift tomorrow long gone. Curious, amused. And her answer isn’t particularly racy, either. Well-
“The family restroom at PNC Park,” she decides on.
It’s the truth, after all. Her first college girlfriend wasn’t a huge baseball fan, and after a couple of innings she’d had enough of pretending to give a shit about the action on the field. Before they’d even made it to the bottom of the fifth, she’d grabbed Trinity’s hand and dragged her down the bleachers and, as soon as the coast was clear, into the single stall bathroom. “You promised me this would be fun,” she had accused. “So, make it fun.” Trinity was more than happy to oblige.
With some effort, Trinity lifts her head from the cushion to raise her own eyebrow at Samira, and she’s gratified by the surprised “oh” of her lips. It takes a second, and Trinity can practically see her processing the information.
“Elaborate,” she says, finally, with a laugh. Trinity grins and shakes her head.
“That’s a separate truth.”
A soft snort to her side draws her attention, and Trinity turns to look. Seated on the next cushion over, knees pulled up to her chest, Mel is nursing the same Shirley Temple that Trinity made her when she arrived. Hours ago, at this point. She’d tried to tempt her with the offer of a “Dirty Shirley,” a suggestive eyebrow waggle, but Mel had been firm. Her excuse might have been something about seeing her sister the next day. Trinity isn’t sure, she’d already been a couple of shots deep at that point.
“Your turn,” she finds herself saying, tongue loose with alcohol. “What about you, Mel? Weirdest place you’ve had sex. Go.”
If Trinity were a little more sober, she might be less inclined to admit to herself that it’s not just the alcohol loosening her tongue. Mel’s got her hair down, literally, for the first time that Trinity has ever seen it. It falls in loose waves around her face, crimped by her day-in-and-day-out braids. Her loose V-neck means her cleavage is just visible over the edge of the fabric, and Trinity has had to pull her gaze away from the sight more times than she can count this evening. (Her tits are getting harder to ignore as the night drags on.)
More distracting than that, though, is the fact that Mel seems relaxed. Comfortable, here, in Trinity’s apartment. Her laugh is coming a little easier, her smile a little brighter. Trinity doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this at ease in a social situation and it’s- it’s doing something nice and warm and pleasant in her gut.
“Oh,” Mel’s cheeks flame, and Trinity’s mouth goes dry. “I’ve never, uh.”
Trinity should read the room, she thinks. She should stop there, not press it, let it go for once in her life. But, she doesn’t. This she will blame on the alcohol:
“Never had public sex?” she raises both eyebrows now. “Or?”
“Never had sex,” Mel says, matter of fact. Her chin juts out – just a little stubbornly – and she raises her eyebrows right back at Trinity. Behind her glasses, her eyes seem unnaturally wide, and Trinity has the distinct impression that she could fall right into them. She just stares at the blonde stupidly.
“Uh,” Trinity gapes.
For once, Mel is the one with all the social graces in this situation. She turns her head neatly away from Trinity and finds the next victim of this little game.
“Mateo,” she smiles, bright and guileless, clearly ready to steer this whole thing toward less dangerous waters. “If you were invisible for a day, what would be the first thing you’d do?”
Trinity should drop it.
And she knows that, well and truly she does. It’s none of her business, Mel’s sex life (or lack thereof), and the fact that Trinity keeps fixating on it is- well, it’s weird. Really fucking weird. It makes her no better than any other virginity-obsessed freak she’s had the displeasure of knowing in her personal life.
But, it’s a week later, and every time she looks at Mel, she can’t help but think about it. The way she’d blushed, just a bit, and the stubborn set of her jaw. The way she’d looked at Trinity as if she was daring her to do something about it.
It isn’t the fact that she’s a virgin, Trinity thinks. Not really that. It’s just- it’s the fact that it kind of feels like a crime. Mel. Gorgeous, gorgeous Mel, with her quiet self-confidence, her kindness, her lightly-toned arms that Trinity has caught herself staring at every single time she’s slipped out of her jacket at work. It’s the fact that no one has ever laid Mel out on a bed, blonde hair fanned out over a pillow, and made her come so hard she cried. No one’s gotten their mouth on her, or their fingers inside of her, and felt the way she-
“Dr. Santos,” a stern voice breaks her out of her revery. “Are you still with us?”
Langdon is staring at her, a familiar annoyed tick in his jaw. To his left, Mel is staring at her too, and Trinity realizes that she’s spent the last however long dissociating in the direction of Mel’s collarbone. Even the patient they’re working on is giving her an odd look.
“I-” Trinity shakes her head, pushes a stray strand of hair from her face with the back of her wrist. “Sorry. I, uh-” she swallows. Fuck, she’s not going to live this down. “I’m gonna take five.”
“Or ten,” Langdon snarks as he turns back to his work, but Trinity is already out the door.
"Is everything alright, Dr. Santos?"
Because fate is a cruel bitch, it's Mel that finds Trinity around the side of the ambulance bay, her ass parked on a curb as she tries to get herself back under control. Mel's got her hands wrapped around either end of her stethoscope, draped across the back of her neck, and Trinity wonders when that particular maneuver became in any way sexy. God, she needs to get a grip.
"Peachy," she smiles at her. "Sorry, got a little lightheaded in there. Didn't get any breakfast."
Mel stares at her, that familiar, unnerving stare that Trinity has somehow grown fond of, and doesn't speak for a long moment. Trinity has to tear her gaze away, staring down the street and willing an ambulance to come screaming into the bay. That would at least get her out of this silent standoff that she's not even sure they're having.
"Is this about what I said at your party last weekend?" Mel says, finally.
Trinity swears under her breath. She always picks the worst moments to be the most observant person in the room.
"No, it's-" she turns to look at her, denial after denial already preparing to fall from her lips, when she sees the blush on Mel's cheeks.
She's not looking at Trinity, her gaze diverted somewhere near her shoes. Shame feels like acid in her gut, but more than that- there's also, God help her, that same, heated attraction that got her into this mess in the first place.
"Look, Mel," Trinity can feel the way her own brows have drawn tight. Why can't she just be fucking normal for once? "I just-"
"Because I've been thinking about it, too,” Mel interrupts, then pauses. “Quite a lot, actually."
Well, that's not what she expected.
All the oxygen in Trinity's lungs leaves her in a short, hard breath. "What?"
"I know it isn't anything to be shameful of," Mel continues on, clearly intent on getting the words out. She's so red, now, that Trinity thinks vaguely that it's a miracle her glasses haven't actually fogged up. "But you're clearly so experienced, and-"
Trinity refuses to take offense. As Mel trails off, she tries to wait her out patiently. Instead, she watches, helpless, as Mel bites at her lower lip and shakes her head. Pushing herself to her feet, Trinity steps toward her, her footsteps slow and light like she's approaching an animal that might startle and bolt any second. Trinity can't decide if she's the startled animal, or if Mel is.
"And what?" she prods, breathless.
"Will you have sex with me, Trinity?"
Mel lifts her head, finally, and Trinity is struck by the earnestness in her expression. It's the same kind of look she approaches an unfamiliar new case with - a dogged determination to learn, but not necessarily to prove anything. Trinity wonders if she needs to schedule herself a CT. Surely, she hit her head somewhere and she’s hallucinating this entire interaction.
It's not the right response, but Trinity finds herself laughing - short, disbelieving.
"I'm sorry," she blinks. "What?"
She didn't think it was possible for Mel's cheeks to go even pinker but, somehow, they do. She bites at her lower lip, and there's that stubborn jut of her chin again.
"I asked if you would have sex with me," she repeats, lifting her eyebrows challengingly. The bravado fades almost immediately, though, as she continues. "I mean, unless I'm egregiously misreading this whole situation, it seems like you're attracted to me. And I'm attracted to you. And- we're friends. We know each other fairly well at this point. And, I figured, it would be a good opportunity to have my first time with someone I trust."
Trinity definitely hit her head. Maybe she's crashing on a trauma room gurney at this very moment. She can't be sure.
"Uh," is all she manages to say as she blinks at Mel. Her jaw is hanging open, stupid, and she forces it shut with a click. She blinks, and manages a semi-casual shrug of her shoulders. “I- I mean, yeah, sure. Why not."
Mel beams.
"Really?"
It feels as if Trinity's heart stutters in her chest. Maybe she needs an EKG, too. "Yeah, really," she says, hoping she sounds a hell of a lot more nonchalant than she feels. "Just tell me when and where."
It's a blasé question, and she doesn't expect an answer, but trust Dr. Mel King to have one anyway.
"My apartment would be a better option than yours," she points out. "I don't really, um, want Dennis to. Overhear."
Trinity nods.
"Tomorrow night? After work?"
Trinity nods again. She feels a little dizzy.
"Sure," her voice comes out hoarse. "Tomorrow it is."
Trinity hesitates in front of Mel’s apartment door.
It’s not an intimidating space. There’s a “Be Kind” welcome mat with a giant sunflower out front, and a potted fern on a pedestal beside it. Somehow, none of it makes Trinity feel any less intimidated.
“Come on,” she tells herself under her breath. “It’s just Mel. It’s not- none of this means anything.”
Because she’s done this before. Many times. In fact, probably too many times if her therapist has anything to say about it. Trinity is more than familiar with casual sex. It’s sex that actually means something, that comes along with a relationship and genuine feelings and hard conversations, that sends her running for the hills. But this? This she knows. This she’s good at. She can spend an evening with the virginal, blushing Mel and have her seeing stars by the end of it, then be home to catch up on Drag Race with Dennis like nothing ever happened. She can.
Before she can bring herself to raise her fist to knock, though, the door is creaking open.
Mel blinks at her. Trinity blinks back.
“Hi,” it’s Mel who breaks the stand-off first. “I thought I heard you coming up.”
Trinity blinks again. Nods.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Do you want to come in?” she thinks that Mel’s cheeks might be just a shade darker pink than usual.
It’s so categorically Mel that Trinity almost laughs. Any situation that someone else might view as awkward, Mel King brushes right past. Someone who doesn’t understand her might view it as dismissive, maybe even brusque, but Trinity knows better. Mel just- she doesn’t care for the unnecessary social mores that everyone else is preoccupied with. Most of the time, she’d rather just get right down to it – whatever it is she’s doing. It’s refreshing, and maybe part of the reason they get along so well.
Trinity nods.
Mel’s apartment is appropriately tidy. It’s well-furnished, clean, and there are pictures of her and the young woman that Trinity assumes is Becca along the walls, the mantle, the bookshelf. Here there’s Mel and Becca beaming in matching Mickey Mouse ears in front of the castle at the Magic Kingdom, and here they are on a beach with a blonde-haired couple that Trinity can only assume are their late parents.
“Nice place,” she says, shoving her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants and rocking up on the balls of her feet. “You, um, read a lot?”
It’s a stupid question. Clearly, she does. The walls of her living room are lined with bookcases, every end table practically overflowing with them. It’s cute. It’s Mel. Trinity can’t remember the last time she’d seen her take a break and not whip out a paperback.
“Oh,” Trinity chances a glance at her and finds Mel smiling shyly. She’s wearing a pale blue tec shirt, plain, and scrub bottoms that she hasn’t bothered to change out of after her shift. It shouldn’t be as sexy as Trinity finds it at the moment. “I do.”
Trinity nods. “So, do you want to-” she starts, just as Mel says “How do you want to-?”
Their eyes lock again, and Trinity laughs. Mel blushes. The awkward moment, ironically, eases some of the tension.
“Where’s your bedroom, Mel?”
She has the pleasure of watching Mel’s eyes go wide, the way that she swallows hard, and then she’s nodding back toward the tiny hallway leading back to a pair of doors.
“This way.”
Trinity nods, steps forward, and takes Mel’s hand. “Let’s get started, then.”
Mel’s bed is large and plush, perfectly made up with a pale lavender bedspread. There’s a candle lit on the dresser. Once more, the space is neat and tidy and so very, very Mel.
Trinity couldn’t care less about any of it at the moment.
There’s a second where they stand, just inside the threshold, and stare at the bed together. Trinity has never had an encounter like this: no need for seduction, but also no prior knowledge about her partner’s preferences. And it’s not like she can let Mel lead: she’s never done any of this.
It’s that thought, though, that gets Trinity into motion. Still holding her hand, squeezing lightly, she lifts the other to her cheek. Mel stares back at her, her eyes wide and just this side of nervous as Trinity cups her jaw and leans in to kiss her. Her shoulders are tense, stance guarded.
Mel hasn’t kissed anyone, either, and it’s clear in the way that she stays stock still under Trinity’s touch. Her lips are lightly pursed under Trinity’s mouth, and she makes a soft noise that could be approval or surprise. Trinity doesn’t take it personally.
“Relax,” she tells her, pulling back just enough that her breath ghosts against Mel’s mouth. “I promise I’m a good teacher.”
That makes Mel laugh, at least - softly - and her shoulders drop, tension not gone entirely but significantly lessened. When Trinity kisses her again, Mel is at least a touch more receptive. Her lips loosen, and when Trinity slots her mouth more firmly against her, encouraging her to open up, they part with a soft exhale.
Progress. Trinity smiles, and does it again, using her careful grip on Mel’s cheek to angle her how she wants, and Mel moves without any resistance. When Trinity pushes her tongue into her mouth - just testing - Mel moans.
That’s it, Trinity thinks, and keeps going. The tip of her tongue brushes against Mel’s, urging her on, and she responds beautifully. Her soft moan sinks straight into Trinity’s stomach, and when she pulls back enough to change the angle, Mel chases after her mouth. She feels like she could do this forever.
When Trinity uses her grip on Mel’s hand to guide it to her own waist, she does just as she’s instructed, fingers digging into her t-shirt. Trinity releases her wrist, then lets her own arm slip around Mel’s body to tug her in closer by the small of her back.
Mel sucks in a breath through her nose as she presses, full-bodied, into Trinity. The hand not on her waist moves to slip around her neck. With each second that passes, Trinity can feel her confidence grow, the way she presses into the kiss, the way she meets Trinity in the middle. It’s so fucking good, but she has to remember a heated makeout session isn’t their only goal tonight.
"Come on," Trinity urges. She can feel the way her cheeks are flushed and heated. The kiss has knocked Mel's glasses askew, and there's a lock of hair that's fallen out of her braid and across her cheek. Trinity brushes it behind her ear as she sways in for another brief brush of lips. "Let me take you to bed."
There's a moment where Mel blinks at her like she's forgotten that the kissing isn't all they're doing here. It's flattering: Trinity knows she's a good kisser, but this is another level of fuel to her ego. Mel bites at her lower lip, teeth testing at the way it's a little puffy, slick with spit. Trinity loses her train of thought.
"Should we," Mel starts, stops, starts again. "Should we get undressed?"
The hand she's got on Trinity's hip slips just under the edge of her t-shirt. It's an unconscious gesture, Trinity thinks, or she's a more natural seductress than she expected. Nevertheless, it has heat flushing through her body.
"Yeah," she agrees, swallowing hard. "That first."
Taking even a half-step back from the press of Mel's body feels like a crime, but Trinity reminds herself that what waits for her next is going to be even better. Mel drops her grip on her body, and Trinity holds her gaze as she slips her hands down her sides.
"I should have said this earlier," Trinity murmurs, even as her fingers toy with the hem of her shirt. "But if I go to fast or do anything to make you uncomfortable, you need to stop me, alright?" This part feels vulnerable, and Trinity has never been particularly good at that, but it's the truth: "This is about making you feel good."
Mel blinks at her, wide-eyed and a little stupid, but nods. "I trust you, Trinity."
If she waits any longer, Trinity's traitorous heart might try to turn this into something it's not. She moves quickly, methodically, to undress Mel. Her arms lift easily as Trinity urges the fabric up and over her head. There's that bright pink flush across her cheeks again, and Trinity doesn't even take a second to appreciate the sight of her perfect tits, cupped in a no-frills, skin-tone bra (how very Mel), she has to kiss her again.
This one is slower again, but no less heated. In fact, Mel seems more confident than ever as she tugs Trinity in, fists her fingers in her hair, arches her body against her. Trinity lets the kiss be her distraction as she works open the knot of her scrub bottoms and pushes the fabric down her hips.
Pressed this close, she doesn't miss the full-body shiver that passes through Mel. The first time she's ever been this close to someone in this little clothing, she's sure. Trinity's hands find her ass - covered in reasonable, cotton panties - and moans into her mouth as she pulls their bodies flush.
Now that she's gotten her mostly undressed, Trinity walks her backwards to the bed. Mel, too fixated on the kiss, doesn't even seem to notice. Again, it's really fucking flattering.
She pauses them there, at the foot of the bed, and ignores Mel's soft, disappointed noise when she breaks the kiss.
"Fuck, you're adorable," she laughs, too honest, and pushes her gently down on the edge of the bed.
Mel's smile is like electricity jolted straight through Trinity's body. She sits, apparently un-self-conscious in her body, and braces her hands on the mattress behind her. Trinity wonders if the longer this goes on, the more she'll get to see flashes of it - the quiet, natural confidence that never seems to fail to take her by surprise.
"Your turn?" Mel asks, when Trinity's staring has gone on for just a second too long, and she nods.
"Right. Yeah."
Trinity strips herself of her t-shirt and cargo pants quickly, toeing out of her sneakers and tossing them aside too. It leaves her in her sports bra and boy shorts. Not her sexiest look, but she was trying not to put too much pressure on this whole encounter. Mel doesn't seem to mind: her gaze tracks over her stomach, down to her hips, her thighs. Trinity is reminded, distinctly, of Mel confessing that she was attracted to her just the day before. She grins.
"Middle of the bed," she orders, breaking Mel out of her apparent revery. "Scootch."
It takes her a second, blinking, but Mel finally does as she's asked. She scoots to the center of the bed, eyes trained on Trinity the entire time.
She can't quite tell if the grin on Mel’s lips is a nervous one, or anticipation. That is, until Trinity joins her on the bed, and Mel instantly reaches for her. Anticipation, then.
She lets herself get distracted by kissing her again. Indulgent and unhurried, she lets her hands slip down Mel's flanks, her hips, slip around to the small of her back and encourage Mel to arch up against her. She's a natural, like this - so earnestly responsive it makes Trinity's head spin a little. Mel in bed has that same kind of genuine, can-do attitude she brings to work, and if Trinity isn't careful, she's going to break her own heart when she has to give it up.
Eventually, Trinity pulls away, laughing at the frustrated, impatient noise Mel makes.
"Trin-" she protests, hands finding her shoulders and trying to pull her back down.
"Easy, baby," she murmurs, pet name slipping mindlessly from her lips.
Trinity is straddling her waist now, and from here she's got a wonderful view of Mel spread out beneath her. She doesn't remember undoing her braid, but she must have at some point because now it fans out beneath her head. Her chest heaves lightly with the force of her rapid breathing, her perfect tits about to spill out the top of her bra.
"We need to talk about what we're doing here, first," she forces herself to say, even as she lets her hand slide up her stomach until she can cup one of her breasts. Even through the bra, her skin is gloriously hot.
It's becoming apparent quickly that Mel would rather be doing than talking about any of this. She bites at her lip again, brow furrowing.
"I thought we were having sex," she says.
Trinity grins. She knows Mel isn't nearly as naive as everyone likes to pretend she is, that it's typically just her straightforwardness misinterpreted, but it's adorable nonetheless.
"No duh," even as she leans down to kiss her again, brief and sweet. "But with two chicks in the picture there's a number of ways we can go about this."
She hasn't brought any supplies, and she isn't about to ask Mel if she's got a secret stash of sex toys hidden under her bed, which leaves a couple of obvious answers.
"I could finger you," she offers, tongue darting out to wet her lower lip as she slips her heated gaze over Mel's body. "Or," tipping her head consideringly, she rolls her hips down against Mel suggestively and watches, greedily, as she sucks in a breath. "I'd really love to get my mouth on you."
Trinity won't do Mel the disservice of assuming she doesn't know what getting eaten out involves, and she doesn't have to. Mel's eyes go wide.
"Oh," she says, the word little more than a shuddering exhale. "Yeah. Yeah, I- can we do that? Please?"
The grin on her lips is nothing short of lascivious, filthy with intent, and Trinity nods. "Only because you asked so nicely."
The next kiss they share has an edge of urgency that wasn't there just a minute ago. When Trinity grinds down slowly against her, Mel groans into her mouth and tightens her fingers around her shoulders. When she slips her hand around Mel’s back to undo the clasp of her bra, she arches up helpfully to rid herself of it. When Trinity pulls back to look at her, Mel's glasses are a little bit fogged.
Trinity's last girlfriend never really liked it when she played with her tits. She said it gave her a weird feeling, so whenever Trinity would touch her nipples or cup her breasts, she'd shove her away.
Mel, on the other hand, apparently loves having her tits played with.
"Oh- oh my God-" she gasps when Trinity cups each of her tits in hand and leans down to suck one nipple between her lips. Her spine arches, head tipping back. Her fingers find their way to Trinity's hair, threading through the strands and keeping her pressed close.
Trinity thinks, for just a second, that this is where she wants to die.
Despite her mission, Trinity lets herself get distracted for a long, long time. She pinches and rolls one (gorgeous, pink) nipple between her fingers while she laves her tongue over and over the other, then switches. It's only when she can feel Mel actually shaking beneath her that she relents. With one last kiss pressed to the soft valley of skin between them, she returns to kiss Mel once more.
"I'm gonna eat you out now," she promises her, a little breathless. Mel's lips are parted and stupid, a flushed mess, and she nods.
"Please."
Slipping back down her body, Trinity doesn't let herself get distracted by her tits this time - as tempting as it is. She lays kiss after kiss down the length of her body as she goes, though - admiring the suggestion of firm abs just under the surface, her soft stomach, her hips. When she finds a freckle just to the side of her belly button, she has to stay there for a long moment pressing wet, lightly-sucking kisses to the skin to keep herself from saying something deeply embarrassing.
By the time she's kneeling between her legs, Mel has pushed herself halfway up onto her elbows to watch. Trinity spares her a grin, heated, as she hooks her fingers in the waistband of her panties and tugs. Mel's hips raise without hesitation, and before she knows it Trinity is treated to the sight of Mel in her entirety. Naked, flushed, beautiful.
"Fuck," she breathes, turning her head to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. Trinity can't seem to tear her gaze away from her mound, the thick, blonde bush there. When Mel shifts her legs, she can tell that she's already wet. "You're so gorgeous."
Mel's blush goes from her hairline all the way down to her chest, and Trinity itches to chase it with her mouth. Instead, she licks her lips and reaches for Mel's hand. She moves without question, letting Trinity guide her until she's got her fingers in her hair once more.
"Tell me if anything feels weird," she reminds her, and waits for Mel's nod.
Focused on the task at hand, now, Trinity pushes one of Mel's legs gently to the side, then urges the other up to hook over her shoulder, heel digging lightly into her back. Mel makes a soft noise at that, but she ignores her.
It's a struggle to keep herself in check, to start slowly, to ease Mel into it, despite her obvious arousal. She starts with laying kisses, one after the other, up the length of her inner thigh until she reaches the spot where it meets her body. Trinity lingers there for only a moment, another gentle kiss, before she's turning her attention to what really matters.
When Trinity finally presses a kiss to the top of her mound, nose nestled in the hair there, she's gratified by Mel's sharp intake of breath and her fingers tightening. And that's not even the good part. She hides her smile there for a second, breathing her in, the smell of her - sweat and discharge - before she's nosing her way down to her clit.
Mel's pussy lips spread easily under her nose, and Trinity lets her eyes slip closed as she licks a stripe, broad and wet, from her hole to her clit. The girl beneath her gasps, spine arching, and Trinity slips an arm around her waist to keep her in place. She doesn't bother with words, just repeating the gesture again, and again, until Mel is moaning softly.
Trinity has been accused, many times, of a lack of humbleness. In most things, she'll deny it, but not here: she's really, really fucking good at eating pussy.
It doesn't take long until Mel is a moaning, whimpering mess beneath her. She squirms, as much as she can, as Trinity takes her time systematically taking her apart. She tongues at her slit, pushes her tongue inside of her, and then detours to suck lightly on her clit. It's red and engorged, hot with blood, practically dripping with Mel's wetness and Trinity's spit, within minutes.
Trinity isn't quiet about it, either. She moans around her, laps at her, lets the sound of her wet, eager enjoyment carry in the room. It's interrupted only by the sounds of Mel, gasping and occasionally crying out.
"Trinity, Trinity- please-" she begs, tugging at her hair like she isn't sure if she wants her to stop or keep going forever. It doesn’t seem like a genuine protest, so Trinity makes the decision for her and keeps going.
When she can feel the muscles of Mel's thighs starting to quiver around her, Trinity finally pulls back just long enough to send a heated look her way. She doesn't leave her hanging, though - two of her fingers join the party, slipping over her slit and pressing in just enough, suggestive, to make her squirm some more.
"Getting close, sweetheart?" she teases.
At some point, Mel's arms must have given out on her, because she's flat against the bed once more. Trinity pushes her fingers in deeper, in to the first knuckle, and she keens. Her spine arches, breasts heaving dramatically. Her glasses are folded up beside her head, now, and it's somehow the hottest part of all of this.
Mel nods - jerky - and tips her chin down to look at her. Her eyes are wild, cheeks red and lips bitten raw. Trinity's heart stops for a second.
"Please," she gasps. "Please make me come."
Trinity grins and nods, turning to press one last kiss to her inner thigh before she obliges. "Yes, ma'am."
Her own arousal is getting a lot harder to ignore, and if Trinity's hands weren't occupied - one holding Mel still by the waist, the other fucking into her hot, wet cunt - she'd reach down to push a couple of fingers into herself, too. As it is, she can only savor Mel's enjoyment. The way her heel digs hard into her back, the way she bucks up against her grip like she wants to grind down on her face, the way her inner walls clench around her fingers when she starts fucking her in earnest.
She alternates licking at and sucking on her clit as she works Mel over on her fingers. Like that, it doesn’t take long before she’s coming.
"Oh- oh God-" she gasps, and it's probably the loudest Trinity has ever heard her be. "Trinity- Trinity oh my God-"
Her spine arches off the bed once more, fingers tensing in her hair, as she finally spills over the edge. Trinity is treated to her full-body shivers as she whines and squirms beneath her. She doesn't pause, not even for a second - just watches her face as much as she can from her position between her legs.
It feels like an eternity before Mel finally comes down, but Trinity doesn't stop. Not until Mel is squirming away, fingers tugging at her hair, does she pull her fingers free of the tight clutch of her, pressing one last kiss to her clit.
When she moves back up her body, she takes stock of the boneless, sated mess beneath her. Mel's legs are spread wide, chest still heaving as she catches her breath. Trinity skates a hand up her side, over one tit, and up her neck until she can cup her jaw. She's just about to lean down and kiss her when she remembers the wet mess of her face. Spit and arousal coat her cheeks, and she flushes. Another thing her last girlfriend hated: tasting herself on Trinity's tongue.
Mel's watching her expectantly, though. She's gorgeous like this, squinting a little without the aid of her glasses, but so clearly sated Trinity can't help but feel her ego expand just that much more. The fingers of both of her hands find their way into Trinity's hair, and she tugs gently.
"Come here," she insists. "I want to kiss you."
And, well, how is Trinity supposed to resist that?
The kiss lingers once more, and this time Mel is the one taking advantage of her. She slips her tongue between Trinity's lips, chases the taste of herself on her lips, on her tongue. It's bone-meltingly intense, and Trinity's arousal is getting harder to ignore by the second. When she finds herself grinding absently down against Mel’s thigh, she pulls away with a soft groan.
"Baby," Trinity gasps, hiding her face in the curve of her neck. She's still wearing her own underwear, and the seam of her boy shorts is a rough tease against her clit where she's pressed against Mel's body. "Can I- do you mind-"
They haven't really talked enough about this for Trinity to be certain her own pleasure is part of the whole deal. It's not a big problem, and she's prepared to slink off with her tail between her legs and take care of herself when she gets home if she has to, but-
"Please," she hears Mel breathe, and pulls her face free to look at her. There's that blush on her cheeks again, and she searches Trinity's face carefully. It's still jarring, seeing her without her glasses, but it makes the hazel of her eyes that much more intense. "I- can I just watch this time?"
The combination of words is like a finely-instrument designed to short-circuit Trinity's brain. The suggestion of there even being a next time, let alone that Mel would assist in getting her off in that theoretical next time - the thought of her watching this time? Trinity can barely breathe.
"Yeah," she gasps, finally. "Yeah, yeah, sure- fuck, of course."
Trinity has to kiss her again to stop the flow of her own stupid words. While she does, she wriggles hurriedly out of her boy shorts and tosses them aside, then her bra. Almost immediately, Mel's hands go to her tits, cupping the weight of them in a mirror of Trinity's own earlier touch, and she groans.
There's a number of ways she could do this. She could grind herself on Mel's thigh or her hip, she could reach her hand between her legs while she props herself up on the other - kissing Mel while she fingers herself. But, she decides, if this is supposed to be about Mel's sexual education-
Mel makes a disappointed noise when she pulls away, and Trinity shushes her with another, gentle kiss.
"You said you wanted to watch," she reminds her with a grin. "I'm letting you watch."
She doesn't go far, though. Straddling Mel's waist once more, she balances with her knees spread wide, leaving herself open to Mel's hungry gaze. Trinity bites her lip, bracing herself back on one hand, and slips the other slowly between her thighs.
Mel, for her part, seems utterly transfixed. She's staring, eyes flickering between Trinity's face and her spread cunt like she can't decide where she wants to look. Trinity's blood jumps up another degree or two.
If she were just a little less turned on, Trinity thinks she might be able to make a better show of this. As it is, she knows it's not going to last a particularly long time. As she pushes her middle and ring finger inside of herself, pinkie and pointer spreading her lips wide, she watches Mel's face.
God help her, Mel reaches for her glasses.
It shouldn't be as stupidly sexy as it is, but the thought of her needing her glasses to get a better look while Trinity fingers herself? Fuck, she doesn't think she's experienced anything more erotic in her life. Trinity moans, high and breathy, and Mel meets her gaze. She grins.
"Keep going," Mel encourages.
By the time she finally comes, minutes or hours later, Trinity is desperate for it. She rides her fingers in time with her fingers pushing inside of herself, balanced back on her hand to get a better angle. The heel of her palm grinds against her clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. All the while, Mel watches her - her attention rapt, gaze flicking between her fingers in her cunt, her tits, her face. Heat ratchets tighter and tighter in Trinity's gut until she can't take it anymore. She comes with a whimper, head tipped back, gasping and rocking her hips.
"You're so hot," Mel whispers into the ensuing silence. Trinity catches her eye again and grins.
It's later than Trinity anticipated when she finally stumbles out of her apartment. Mel is reluctant to let her go, pulling her back into her bed for another slow, but nonetheless heated, makeout session almost a half-dozen times. The only thing that finally propels Trinity out the door is the knowledge that if she sticks around, spends the night wrapped around Mel, she might start getting some boneheaded ideas about where this whole thing is going.
It's just sex.
Repeated sex, apparently. It's only three days later when Mel is - once again - the one to make the first move. This time, she texts her.
The text thread up until this point contains exactly a dozen messages: "This is Mel :)," one brief exchange where Trinity asked to switch shifts because a friend from college was in town, and then a request for Mel's Starbucks order as a thank you. "Just a London Fog latte, please! :)" was the last thing in there, sent and received a good six months ago at this point.
So, imagine Trinity's surprise when she opens her phone on a brief break between traumas to find Mel's name on her screen.
"Would you like to come over tonight?"
Fuck yeah, she would.
This time, though, Trinity comes prepared. She makes a detour to her apartment to change out of her scrubs and into something that looks like she put at least a little bit of effort into it. Even her sports bra and boy shorts she switches out for a set of something matching and lacy. It's probably too much, but Mel is initiating. Clearly, she wants this, too.
Lastly, she pulls out the box she keeps under her bed. Maybe it's presumptuous, or maybe it's just- giving Mel options, but that doesn't stop Trinity from feeling just a little bit lecherous as she shoves her strap-on and harness into the bottom of her backpack. She tosses in a vibrator for good measure, too.
Mel, it turns out, really, really likes kissing. Trinity barely makes it over the threshold before Mel is tugging her over to her couch, shoving her down onto it, and climbing into her lap. And Trinity isn't one to complain - not when she gets a lapful of gorgeous, responsive woman in her lap and in her arms, pressed flush and eager as she sucks on Trinity's tongue.
She can barely feel her lips when she finally pulls away. Mel sucks in oxygen and tips her head back obediently when Trinity detours to her neck, her jaw. She doesn't dare even think about leaving a mark, but she takes her time pressing hot, wet kisses and letting her teeth drag along the soft skin anyway.
"I want to try something different tonight," she hears herself blurting out. Her cheeks are red, and she doesn't pull herself away from Mel's throat even as she feels her fingers tug lightly on her hair.
Stupid phrasing, it's only their second hookup. Still, it feels like- a big step. Bigger than burying her face in Mel's cunt until she saw stars, apparently.
"Okay," Mel says, easily, fingers petting through her hair. "What do you want to try?"
For all her usual bravado, Trinity can't quite bring the words to her lips. She feels oddly nervous, so she pats at Mel's hip in lieu of a reply.
"Let me take you to bed," she says, suggestive, and waggles her eyebrows. "And I'll show you."
It works: Mel laughs, and lets Trinity drag her along to the bedroom.
It's only once they're undressed, down to their underwear (and Trinity hadn't missed the way Mel's gaze had lingered, appreciatively, on her matching bra and panties), that she'd reached into her bag to pull out the strap.
To her credit, Mel looks only mildly daunted.
"You want..."
"I want to fuck you," Trinity breathes, cheeks red. "With this. It's- uh, it's a strap-on."
Once again, either she was underestimating Mel's sexual knowledge, or she can just put two-and-two together, because Mel hesitates only for a minute before she nods.
"Okay."
Trinity gets her off four times that night. Once, with her fingers and her mouth again, to get her nice and relaxed, and then the second and third times with the fake cock inside of her and her thumb on her clit. She makes some weak protests when Trinity discards the harness, props herself over her and reaches between her own legs to get herself off, but it's easy enough to distract her with a kiss. And, after that, orgasm number four.
By the time they're finished, Mel is such a boneless wreck she can't even walk her to the door.
Trinity counts it as a success.
"I know it's, like, a nice gesture, but it feels a little tone deaf," Dennis is saying, eyeing the Pittsburgh-Pirates-slash-scrub-themed lunchbox in his hands. "They think we actually have time to eat a pack lunch?"
It's healthcare workers appreciation night at PNC Park, and this year it's PTMC's turn to attend. They've got a running agreement with Presby, where one staff will graciously cover the other for a night at the ballpark. From the rumors Trinity has heard, it hadn't gone so well when the Pitt staff descended on Presby's ED, so the low-level fear of retaliation carries like an undercurrent as the group walks to their seats. Nevertheless, it's nice to have a night off.
It's nicer, still, to get to see Mel in her tank-top, Pirates jersey over top, and a backwards baseball cap. Trinity's starting to worry that she's got a staring problem. Mel seems oblivious, at least - she's got her head tilted up, admiring the view of the Clemente bridge in the distance, small smile on her lips. Trinity didn't even realize she liked baseball.
"It's better than two years ago, at least," Samira shrugs. "That time it was a Pirates-themed first aid kit."
Trinity makes a face. "Oof."
"Yeah."
The group's attention is drawn by some raised voices at the front of their little herd:
"You really think Crochet is the better pitcher tonight? Against Paul fucking Skenes?"
Langdon and Robby have been at it for weeks now, ever since they found out the matchup tonight was Langdon's beloved Red Sox against Robby's beloved Pirates. He'd been treated to a good-old-fashioned booing when he'd met them at the gates wearing his Sox jersey.
"I'm not saying that," Langdon defends himself. "I'm saying that our offense-"
Trinity feels an elbow nudge her lightly in the ribs, and when she turns to look, she finds Mel looking at her. There's a mischievous quirk to her brow, and she's biting at her lower lip. She points, and Trinity follows her gaze to the single-stall family restroom.
It takes her a second, and then realization dawns. She feels heat settle in her gut.
"Mel..." she starts. "You're not serious."
Their steps have slowed to a stop, right there in the concourse, and traffic flows around them. The rest of their group too distracted by the usual bickering of their attending and his favorite resident to notice. Mel shrugs.
"Why not?"
By the time that Mel finally comes, perched on the edge of the sink, her legs wrapped around Trinity's shoulders, there's a concerned security guard banging on the door. They manage to mostly straighten themselves out, and receive only a moderately-disgruntled look.
They detour for some cotton candy on their way to their seats: an alibi of sorts. A good call, because they're treated to a suspiciously raised eyebrow from Samira and a too-knowing look from Dennis upon their return. At least everyone else seems not to have noticed.
After the game, they abandon Robby and Langdon to their arguing (or more specifically: Robby's crowing about Skene's complete-game-shutout and Langdon's bitching about the umps) to wander back to their cars.
Trinity didn't touch any alcohol all night, but she still feels oddly intoxicated when she passes Dennis her keys and tells him she's going to walk Mel to her car. Again, he gives her that look that says he knows way too much, but she just sticks her tongue out at him.
As soon as they're out of view, past a row of cars, Mel takes her hand. When they reach her Prius, she doesn't even hesitate to let Trinity press her against the door and kiss her soundly.
"I had a lot of fun tonight," Mel murmurs, when Trinity gets a little distracted kissing down her throat, feeling how warm her skin is through the thin material of her tank top. "Come over tomorrow?"
Trinity's got a shift in the morning, otherwise she'd be there tonight. They both know it. Instead of addressing the elephant in the room that is her quickly-growing attachment, she smiles against Mel’s skin, and nods. "Love to."
“Just a little- ah- fuck-“ Trinity pants. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, she can feel strands of hair sticking to her forehead, and Mel’s got her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, a divot appearing between her furrowed brows, as she concentrates.
It’s the same look of intense focus she gets when she draws up a syringe at work, only this time it’s because she’s got two fingers inside of Trinity’s cunt. Trinity is already well aware that she’ll never be able to see her make that face in the ED again without feeling a rush of arousal.
“’m close,” she warns. “Need just a little- Mel- baby-“
It’s the first time that Mel has fingered her. After two months of this ongoing sexual education, Mel had finally insisted that she try out her newly-acquired knowledge and get Trinity off. It wasn’t that Trinity hadn’t wanted her to up until this point – she’d imagined it plenty of times – it’s just that it feels a little more real, like this. A little harder to pretend around.
Mel’s fingers shift, searching, and when she flexes them upward, she hits Trinity’s g-spot with almost pinpoint accuracy.
“Oh, fuck,” Santos gasps, breathless, as she feels her legs turn to jelly. “Shit, Mel-“
The look Mel gives her is just this side of cocky, like she knows exactly what she’s doing and is hell bent on doing it again and again. And, well, that’s exactly what she does. Her thumb finds Trinity’s clit, rubbing in tandem with the pressure against her spot, and she doesn’t stop until Trinity is whining and squirming and begging for mercy afterward.
“Is this really supposed to be sexy?” Mel asks, skeptical. “My hip is cramping.”
Trinity laughs. Scissoring is the first thing they’ve tried that’s taken some explaining, and Mel still seems a little lost on the concept. She’s got one leg hooked obediently over Trinity’s and the other wrapped loosely behind her ass, but the minutiae of the position still seem to be eluding her.
“It’s good,” Trinity promises. “Trust me.”
It takes a little more maneuvering, some heavy urging, and finally some coaxing kisses, until-
“Oh,” Mel gasps against her lips. Her hips shift, pressure against Trinity’s pussy, and she can practically see the understanding click into place. “I get it,” she breathes.
It’s the first time they come at the same time, breaking their kiss only when they have to pull apart to breathe. Trinity muffles her moans against the top of Mel’s head as the blonde shudders apart in her arms, face buried in her neck.
"Come on, Trin- Let me-"
Trinity has learned that Mel only calls her that when she's angling for something. She wonders if, maybe, it should bother her more. If anything, it only has the opposite effect. It's fucking irresistible.
Trinity groans and hides her face in the soft valley between Mel's tits, pressing her lips against her collarbone. How the fuck is she supposed to resist when Mel is begging to eat her out?
"Fine," she relents, finally. It's not that she been avoiding this, not that she doesn't trust Mel to make her feel good, it's just-
It's just that Trinity is afraid if she looks down the length of her body and sees Mel staring up at her, face buried in her cunt, she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to have sex with anyone else ever again. And that scares her.
Trinity's lips are still pressed to her favorite spot between Mel's tits when she gives in, and from this angle she's treated to the sight of her grinning like the cat who got the cream: wide, pleased, borderline cocky. Trinity doesn't think she's ever going to get use to that. Her hands find Trinity's shoulders, and she tugs, fingers digging into the muscle, until Trinity has no choice but to lift herself up the length of Mel's body until they're face-to-face once more.
"Thank you," Mel smiles, and arches up to kiss her. It's firm, demanding, but she doesn't linger there. In fact, it's surprisingly brief, given Mel's penchant for long, slow, heated makeout sessions. Trinity only has a second to question it before she's being flipped unceremoniously onto her back.
"Shit-" she swears, but within a second Mel is hovering over her, her grin wide and unrepentant. She even has the nerve to laugh as she leans down and presses their lips firmly together.
"Gonna make you feel so good," she breathes against Trinity's mouth. "I promise."
Trinity has only a second to wonder where the shy, virginal Mel she started this whole experiment with went. Before she knows it, Mel has slipped down the length of her body, pressing one absent kiss to the center of her solar plexus, another just beneath her belly button, before she's settled between her legs. "Mel-" she starts, cutting herself off with a groan as one of her legs is tugged up around Mel's shoulder and her fingers part her pussy lips wide. "Shit-"
Mel's eyes find her over the rims of her glasses. She can't see her mouth, but Trinity knows for a fact that her smile is wide and smug. It's the first time that Trinity stops to consider that maybe she's done a little too good of a job when it comes to Mel's sexual education.
"Babe-" she gasps, a soft whine in her voice, but Mel takes no mercy.
She's good at this. Really fucking good. Trinity can do nothing more than take it as Mel eats her out like a woman possessed. Her fingers dig into the sheets beneath her hips as she arches and cries out, but it's pointless: Mel doesn't pause, doesn't relent for even a second, until Trinity has no choice but to come.
"Mel," she sobs. "Fuck, oh my God."
Trinity doesn't mean to stay over that night. In fact, up until that evening she'd made a very explicit point to not let herself stay. But, once Mel discovered just how effectively she could get Trinity off with her tongue and her fingers working in tandem, she'd insisted on doing it again. And again. And again.
So, Trinity wakes the next morning, alone, in Mel's bed. For as much time as she's spent in it these last few months, it's familiar, but that doesn't make it any less daunting to wake up in it.
"Shit," she swears, scrubbing her hands through her hair.
There's the scent of coffee coming from the kitchen, and Trinity dawdles only long enough to scrounge yesterday's scrubs off the floor and re-dress, detours to the bathroom to scrub at her teeth with Mel's toothpaste and her own finger, before she has no choice but to face the music.
"Good morning," Mel smiles at her, sunny and sincere.
She's perched at the breakfast table, paperback in hand and a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, lit from the back by the sun, and Trinity realizes she can't fucking do this anymore.
"Hey," she hovers in the living room - so viscerally uncomfortable for the first time in Mel's space as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Mel's lips tip down in a frown, and she blinks at her.
"You want to come sit? I was waiting to start breakfast ‘til you got up. I have stuff for eggs, toast..."
Her genuine, sweet confusion stings. Unfailingly polite, Mel. She'd never ask Trinity to leave, never tell her that she's overstepped somewhere in the course of this, she'd let her down easy.
"Nah," Trinity knows her smile doesn't reach her eyes, but she attempts it anyway. "I, uh," she flails, wildly, for an excuse. "Promised Dennis. Something."
It's flimsy, monumentally so. Trinity has to be imagining the look of disappointment that crosses her features.
"Oh," Mel blinks. "Alright."
She needs to stop this. She needs to have put a stop to this after that first time, said her work here was done. "You're not a virgin anymore - congrats!" and left at that, but Trinity had been greedy. She lets herself be greedy one more time.
Crossing the floor to Mel's seat at the table, she has the pleasure of watching the way her face tips up to look at her, like a flower angling itself toward the sun. Stupid. Stupid. Trinity smiles, and reaches up to cup her cheek.
"I had a great time last night," she says, and means it. Leaning down, the kiss she presses to Mel's lips is sweet, but brief. Mel, as she always does, sways into it when she pulls away, but this time Trinity doesn't let herself indulge her with another. She brushes her thumb over her cheekbone. "See you at work?"
There's that frown again, but, thank God, Mel doesn't push her any further. She doesn't know if she'd be able to resist Mel asking her to stay a second time.
"See you."
Despite all of her bravado, Trinity has never been good at hard conversations.
She's good at confrontation. Everyone knows that. But the real, hard, open communication conversations where feelings are expressed and discussed? Her therapist is still trying to get her to work on those. That’s probably why she hasn’t been to therapy in a while.
But this thing with Mel - it shouldn’t even be one of those, really. Because this isn't dating, this isn't a relationship, this is sex. This is Trinity helping out her good, until-just-recently-a-virgin friend and showing her the way to many, many really satisfying orgasms. It's not Mel's fault that Trinity had to go and fall halfway in love with her on the way there.
Or fully in love. She thinks that, maybe, she was already halfway there by the time that she knocked on Mel's apartment door for the first time.
Avoiding Mel is both easier and harder than she expected it to be. It helps that they've never let any of their arrangement spill over into their working life. Unlike what the medical dramas on TV would have you believe, doctors and nurses don't have the time in the day to sneak off to the nearest supply closet and get their rocks off ten times a day. Work is work. The closest Mel and Trinity ever got to any extracurriculars while in the workplace was the time that Mel had brushed past her in the break room, placed a hand on her hip, and leaned in to murmur "I want you to do that thing you did with your tongue last week again tonight."
Trinity had been red in the face for the next hour. As soon as their shift was over, she'd walked Mel home and obliged.
But, other than that, the Pitt is basically a non-starter as far as their sex life goes. And, between it and taking care of Becca on the weekends, Mel is a busy woman.
It makes it easy to dodge her.
"I haven't seen you in a while," Mel texts her one night, a week after Trinity woke up alone in her bed. "Do you want to come over tonight?"
"Sorry," Trinity replies. "I promised Samira we'd have a solo girls’ night tonight."
That's how it goes for the next two weeks. Mel's occasional attempts to initiate, and Trinity's rebuffs. By the second week, it does start to bleed into work: Trinity can't miss the looks that Mel sends her. Never reproachful, never combative, just- curious. Like she doesn't quite know what changed.
Good. Trinity would rather keep it that way.
By week three, the texts slow to a stop.
Trinity doesn't make a habit of getting sick.
Working day-in-and-day-out in the ED means that she's got a rock-solid immune system and just about every vaccine known to man. So, when she does get well and truly sick, it knocks her on her ass a little.
The knock on her apartment door has to be her DoorDash delivery: NyQuil and chicken soup and an impulse buy of Cherry Garcia ice cream.
"Coming," she calls, and feels incredibly pathetic when even that sends her into a coughing fit.
Dennis has been avoiding her like the plague, and for good reason. At least one of them should be at work. It means that Trinity has to hoist herself from her den of sickness, tug her quilt a little tighter around her shoulders, and shuffle her way to the front door.
It's not the DoorDash guy.
"Hi," Mel blinks at her when Trinity finally pulls the door open. She's got a bag of groceries clutched in each hand, dressed in her scrubs. "Can I come in?"
Trinity stares. There's a number of things she could say, starting with "What are you doing here?" and ending with "I don't want to get you sick too but I think the only thing in the world that would make me feel better right now is curling up in your arms." She settles on nodding and stepping to the side, pulling the door with her to usher Mel in.
"Dennis said you weren't feeling well," she explains as she crosses the threshold. Trinity is fairly certain Mel has only visited her apartment once beyond the party that started all of this, and that was to drop off a textbook she'd borrowed from Dennis. Yet, she moves around the space like she knows it well.
She bypasses Trinity on her way to the kitchen, hefting her bags with her. As she passes, Trinity can see now that it's not just grocery bags: there's the logo for the deli just down the block from PTMC - the one with the chicken soup that Trinity remembers raving to Mel about, months ago at this point.
Sure enough, when she trails into the kitchen after her, Trinity watches as Mel pulls out a deli container of the very same soup, then from the other bag she withdraws NyQuil, then some cough drops, and then - finally - a pint of ice cream.
Either Mel has signed up for a gig economy side hustle, or Trinity is hallucinating. Her fever must be worse than she guessed.
"What are you doing here?" she blurts out, finally.
It's not that she's not happy to see her. God, Trinity has missed her so fucking bad. And now, having her in her space, her defenses weakened by fever and that full-body shitty feeling that comes with the common cold, she's happier than ever to see Mel. But that does nothing to explain why Mel is here.
Mel is in the middle of pulling out a bowl, transferring half the container of soup into it, when Trinity speaks. She frowns - cute little furrow appearing between her brows.
"Dennis said at shift change that you weren't feeling well," Mel reiterates. Trinity remembers: Mel picked up a night shift, said that the hours would be better for visiting Becca for an event at her group home this week. "And I knew it had to be pretty bad to keep you out of work so-" she shrugs. "I thought I'd stop by."
Trinity really must be hallucinating. She digs her phone from the pocket of her sweats and checks the screen. Her Dasher is still enroute to the convenience store. She discretely cancels the order.
"But-" Trinity knows she probably shouldn't look too closely at the gesture. It's Mel, of all people. She'd probably do the same for her worst enemy. But she just can't help it - she has to poke the bruise. "Why?"
Now Mel is the one who looks confused. She tilts her head to the side, just slightly, and considers Trinity for a long moment.
"Why would I stop by my sick girlfriend's place to make her feel better?" Mel frowns. "Trin, how high is your fever?"
She's right. Her fever must be way worse than she thought. Trinity lifts the back of her hand to her forehead. It feels- cool, actually.
"Uh."
She's frozen there, hand on her own forehead and staring stupidly, when Mel moves around the kitchen counter and into her space. One of her hands lands lightly on her hip, cool against the bare skin where her cropped tee has risen up, and the other gently pushes her hand away to lay across her forehead instead. Again, it's cool against her heated skin, and Trinity shudders.
This close, she can practically count the freckles along the bridge of Mel's nose. There's that furrow between her brows again, too, and her lips are drawn down in a light frown.
She really must be hallucinating.
"You're not too feverish," Mel decides, finally. "How much water have you been drinking?"
Trinity shrugs, a little sheepish. "Not enough."
Mel smiles - smiles! - and it's- it's disarmingly fond, small and private, and Trinity resigns herself to her fever-induced fate. When Mel sways forward to press her lips to Trinity's brow, she knows she's a goner.
"Take a seat on the couch while I get you soup and something to drink," she murmurs. "I'll be just a minute."
Trinity nods, moving slowly - as if in a daze - and complies with Mel's instructions. She pulls her quilt a little tighter around her shoulders as she settles, cross-legged, in one corner of the couch. The angle isn't great, but she can still watch her from here. Mel. In her apartment. Calling her her "girlfriend" and dishing up chicken soup.
"Careful, it’s hot," Mel instructs when she returns, placing the bowl on the coffee table and pulling the whole thing nearer to the couch. She places a spoon in Trinity's hand. "Eat, then we'll get some water down you, too."
Try as she might, the scene in front of her refuses to coalesce into reality. Trinity stares down at the bowl, the spoon in her hand, and then finally back up to Mel.
"Girlfriend?" she asks, finally.
Mel frowns, deeper this time, and leans in to search her face, her eyes. "Do I need to take you in?"
"What?"
"Do I need to take you in," she repeats, but there's a little smile on her lips now, and she laughs when she adds: "To the hospital. You're not making any sense."
Now it's Trinity's turn to laugh. It's short, a little humorless, more startled than anything.
"You're the one not making any sense."
It's the first time Trinity has seen Mel look genuinely exasperated.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not-" Trinity feels panic rising in her chest, and she sets down her spoon with a clatter. "I'm not your girlfriend."
To her horror, Trinity watches as a flush rises up Mel's chest and to her cheeks. She looks embarrassed, and – fuck – hurt.
"You're not?"
Trinity backpedals. Hard. "I- I- mean-"
It's then, staring at Mel sitting beside her on her couch, that Trinity realizes.
She's here, on her couch, risking getting herself sick, too. She's still in her scrubs after spending all night at work. She brought her soup.
Maybe she is hallucinating, or maybe she's just a fucking idiot.
"Oh."
To Trinity's immense relief, Mel doesn't look offended. In fact, as Trinity's realization dawns, Mel only smiles. It's the one that Mel has seen her give patients before, the ones that are being obnoxiously obtuse and – finally – give in to whatever treatment plan she's suggesting. Trinity should feel stupid to be on the receiving end of it. Instead, she just feels giddy.
"Is this why you've been avoiding me so much? I just thought you were busy."
Trinity bites at her lower lip, guilty, and shakes her head.
"No," she admits. "I just- I really like you." The words feel helplessly juvenile, but they're as close to the truth as she can get. "And I didn't think you liked me back. Not as much, at least."
Trinity almost can't believe it. She watches as Mel - good, sweet, ever-patient Mel - rolls her eyes at her.
"I'm going to excuse this right now because you're sick," she says, slowly, like she's talking to a toddler. "But when you're feeling better, we're going to have a long conversation about just how much I like you and you like me. Got it?"
Trinity grins. "Alright."
"Eat your soup."
She laughs, she can't help it. It's loud, and bright, and it sends her into another coughing fit. Trinity has barely settled before Mel is swaying into her space and pressing a kiss to her lips, sickness be damned. Short, sweet, and so transparently fond it should send her running for the hills. It doesn't.
"Yes, ma'am."