Chapter Text
There was no mystery, nothing to suggest that this would be anything more than two coworkers going out for a drink. That was what Al-Hashimi had offered Santos, after all, and it was only because of the certainty of something alcoholic pushing down the knot in her throat that she stood there looking at herself in the mirror after changing. It was for the promise of a drink that she tucked her hair behind her ear after letting it down from the half-ponytail she usually wore, messing with the strands in that empowered she-wolf kind of way. It was for that reason that Trinity Santos pressed her cheeks between her index finger and thumb to bring a hint of red to her pale skin. It was also why she applied a tinted lip balm, bringing that softness and silkiness to her slightly reddened lips, as if they had been bitten or kissed.
It was just a drink, like the one she had gone out for with Mel after the Fourth of July. Just a drink between two adult women, and maybe this time without karaoke and Alanis Morissette. She looked at her reflection in the mirror once more, just to be sure, and not because she wanted to look pretty. She ran a hand over the back of her neck, checking if the suppressant patch was properly stuck to her skin, stretched her neck to the point it almost cracked, and then, with a noisy exhale forced through her lips, she opened the door and set herself in motion toward the exit. Not before Dana looked at her with that expression of someone who knew exactly what was going on, not that anyone had told her anything, she just… well, Dana always seemed to know everything, even before the people involved were aware of it themselves.
“Santos?” Garcia was still in uniform, the dark blue of the surgeons, her hair tied up and that curious look directed at Trinity, at her loose hair, and then that once-over of a body she knew, taking in the clothes, noticing the hint of perfume, surely the blush on her cheeks and the touch of color on her lips. “Heading out already?”
“Ah… yeah.” She glanced to the side as she nodded, only to bring her eyes back to Yolanda, that trace of affection woven into that strange and vague relationship. That kind of look that could be described as: see me, call me, choose me. “I managed to get all my charts up to date for today, so. I’m going to reward myself with a drink.” She brought her hand to her bag, rummaging for her phone, checking the time, setting it aside, and then placing that same hand on Garcia’s arm, giving it a light squeeze as she passed her on the way out. “See you next shift.”
She kept going and lost Yolanda’s expression, and also Dana’s, who had been watching everything from the sidelines. But she didn’t miss Al-Hashimi’s smile when she saw her heading toward the parking lot. The smile that lingered on her lips as Trinity got into the car.
“Seatbelt.” The car had been started again, Baran still glancing sideways as Trinity pulled the belt across her chest to fasten it beside the seat, her elbow brushing against Baran’s arm in that brief movement.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” She offered a small smile, a bit nervous to actually be in her boss’s car, with her bag on her lap and her sweaty hands that she had to wipe on her pants as if that would really stop the sweat from gathering again in her palms.
“I highly doubt anyone would complain about waiting if it meant having your company, so don’t worry.” That brief look, the crooked smile, and that wink —or almost one, maybe unintentional— sent Santos’s nerves climbing to a level that had already reached its absolute limit.
Luckily, Baran had already started the car and was pulling out of the parking lot, her beautiful hand resting on the gear shift, not that Santos had noticed. Delicate fingers, subtle, thin rings that suited her as a whole, not just that beautiful hand. The golden shine of the pieces on Baran’s fingers matched the golden strands in her hair, those curls now loose, giving her an air of power, as if she didn’t already have it in the ER. Maybe Santos was noticing it a bit more now, confined inside that car, just her and Al-Hashimi.
“Music?” Santos’s mind was still focused on that hand on the wheel and, at times, resting on the gear shift, that ingrained habit of someone who had learned to drive the old-fashioned way and never relied solely on automatic cars.
Her eyes traveled upward in a slow pilgrimage, hand, forearm, arm, those beautiful, voluminous curls. Of course, all of Baran was under her scrutiny in that glance, especially her well-defined jaw, the lower lip that was moistened by a tongue that Trinity knew well was capable of delivering sharp responses at work when needed. And then, when her eyes finally settled on Baran’s face as a whole, she was looking back at her. Her eyebrows were raised in that silent question after her suggestion —or question— had been ignored long enough to make her wonder if Santos had even heard her to begin with.
“May I?” she pointed at the dashboard, wanting —more than just to pick something— to know what Baran usually listened to.
“Go ahead.”
She was confident, and it made Trinity feel comfortable enough to act on her own. Even here, in something as simple as handling someone else’s car to choose a song for their drive. Santos knew that was Baran’s profile; she had worked enough shifts with her to understand the dynamic. Baran was the kind of person who genuinely took satisfaction in letting residents stand on their own two feet, staying close enough to support them if needed. Here, apparently, she followed the same modus operandi. And Trinity could handle that, she liked being in control of her own actions.
It didn’t take long for her to glance at the recently played songs, pressing play on one so the playlist would simply run its course. While part of Baran’s attention stayed on the road and part of it drifted toward Trinity’s hands on the dashboard and then back to her own lap, the music filled the car. It wasn’t what Santos had expected, honestly, but the rhythm was addictive. Of course she knew the song, she was someone considered chronically online, she had come across it countless times on TikTok. Still, that didn’t stop her from looking at Baran, eyebrow raised in a clear sign that she was expecting an explanation.
“What, were you expecting the ‘80s?” She laughed, and the sound of it filled the car more than the music itself, making Santos offer a small smile in response. “I like that too, so you’ll find it if you keep looking.”
“I like this one.” It wasn’t a lie. She had picked up the lyrics from watching videos, but the rhythm was usually addictive, something about that electronic beat that made her want to sway her head from side to side, raise her arms, and let herself dance as if she were alone in her apartment. If she had to explain it, it was the kind of beat she imagined a modern witch would listen to in the forest at night, with the moon hanging over a starry sky.
Baran still had that smile on her lips, still managed to glance at Trinity through the rearview mirror as she drove toward the bar she had chosen for their drink. Both of them seemed to enjoy the moment of silence while the music echoed through the car. The silence lingered as Baran parked, and it only broke when she walked around the car while Santos opened the door to step out, surprised to find Baran at her side, with that polite gesture indicating she should go first, her soft hand on Trinity’s arm. The resident drew in a quick breath at the brief startle, letting out a small, almost embarrassed sound, luckily muffled by the noise of the street.
“Do you come here often?” Santos followed up quickly, covering her reaction to Baran’s unexpected touch against her skin.
“No. I don’t think I’m much of a going out for drinks person, I’m making an exception.” She smiled, and it was warm, inviting, just like the touch of her hand on Santos’s arm. Warm, soft, the kind of thing that made the person beside her lower their guard, feel safe and comfortable around her. Baran Al-Hashimi was exceptionally skilled in that art.
She also opened doors and guided Trinity inside, her hand resting against Santos’s back, gentle, almost superficial. Except that with the subtle V-cut at the back of her outfit, Santos could feel that warm touch directly on her skin, sending waves of electricity through her that she most definitely had not expected.
She could have chosen to stay near the bar counter, could have pulled up a high stool for Trinity and settled beside her, but Baran’s hand on Santos’s back guided her a little further in. Not somewhere secluded, they were still close enough to the chaos of people leaning over the drink counter as if expecting more than just a cosmopolitan, maybe a kiss from whoever handled the bottles with such mastery. But she was pulling out a chair to clear the way for Santos so she could settle more comfortably into a cushioned corner seat, where Baran could sit beside her without much trouble, keeping their conversation low, close, and, of course, almost face to face, each seated at one end of the same corner.
“Is this okay?” Baran hadn’t sat down yet, only let Santos get settled, waiting for a positive nod while she smiled. “What would you like to drink?”
“A beer to start?” She was suggesting more than stating it, but when Baran agreed and headed toward the drink counter ahead, Santos settled more comfortably into her seat, no longer under the doctor’s steady gaze. She managed to grab her phone and check her reflection on the screen, lock it, and toss it back into her bag as she watched that stunning woman make her way back toward her.
There was no denying the beauty, the power of walking in a direction knowing nothing would stand in her way. And Trinity noticed the curious glances directed at Al-Hashimi, of course they would look. Flowing hair, beautiful curls framing that delicate face with large, expressive eyes. Lips lightly tinted with a subtle lipstick, a necklace that disappeared between Baran’s breasts beneath that modest neckline, yet still enough to make anyone’s mind wander, imagining where it ended. Maybe that grayish-blue tone also drew attention, as did the pants fitted perfectly to her body. Trinity couldn’t even judge those looks directed at Baran when she was doing the exact same thing at that moment, especially when Baran leaned toward her to hand over the beer, exposing a little more of her chest to the attentive gaze of a resident who most certainly had a strong thing for women.
The comforting warmth of her presence at her side also did things to Santos’s mind, just as much as the necklace disappearing into Baran’s neckline and skin.
The sip was meant to calm her mind, not to stir anything in her body with alcohol. She wanted the coolness of the drink, wanted an excuse to tilt her head back and stop looking to the side, to stop looking at Baran’s beautiful hand around the neck of the beer bottle she had brought for herself.
“The place is nice.” Santos commented, bringing her ring finger to her lips in an absent gesture to wipe away any trace of the drink.
“Yeah, I was worried about taking you somewhere and having someone try that line on you, ‘what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this.’” She was direct. Just like her gaze, following Trinity’s movements, noticing as she dried her lower lip, as she nodded along to something, and then bit her lip.
Trinity suspected she was blushing, she could feel her cheeks heating up intensely, so she drank again, a longer sip this time, wanting to ease the warmth or forget it was even there.
“So, how was your day?” Baran knew a good part of it, of course, she was Trinity’s boss when they passed through the doors of the Pitt, but that tone suggested she wanted details she didn’t have easy access to.
“Honestly?” She wasn’t even sure she wanted to open her mouth if it meant going down that path, but who else would she talk to about it? Dennis was clearly dealing with his own demons. Mel? Well, that friendship was still new, not to mention she liked Langdon, in whatever way that was. Yolanda? It would almost be funny if she wanted to hear about it.
“Yes, please.” Baran even rested her elbow on the table, leaning in so she was fully turned toward Trinity, making it clear she was giving her her full attention.
“Today it felt like Langdon was in every case I took, almost like a shadow. I know he’s trying, I know he’s following the steps of the sobriety program, I know… But some people still look at me and see a pariah because they don’t really know what happened. So… here’s to that.” She raised her beer and clinked it against Baran’s, bringing it to her lips for a much-needed sip. “And there’s something going on with Whitaker, and I’m worried about him… a little.”
“I can imagine it must be difficult, but you’re not carrying the weight alone. I’m not taking his side, but he also has to prove himself all the time. He’s still being watched and still has to go through tests with a frequency that almost borders on an invasion of privacy.” Baran took a sip, as if to match Trinity. “And about Whitaker, he asked to change shifts, at least some of them. Dana told me, and we managed to place him with Abbot. Whatever it is, we’ll keep an eye on it. We always do with our own.”
Interns? Residents? Coworkers? Trinity had to assume that was what Baran meant when she said that.
“Anything else?” Her voice was soft, sweet. Those eyes… Trinity could look into them all night and never tire of how deep and rich that brown seemed, that anchoring gaze.
“I think I need another beer…” she was a couple of sips away from finishing hers, swallowing down the lump in her throat with each drink, along with everything she let slip about her worries, her chaotic day, and how much she missed having Whitaker on the same shift as her.
This time, Baran didn’t need to get up, she simply signaled. There was a waitress serving the table nearby, it would be quicker that way. She ordered two more, gesturing toward the bottles, waiting for the waitress to show she understood, offering a grateful smile.
Trinity took advantage of the pause, the shift in focus, to move in her seat, her leg brushing lightly against Baran’s. It was subtle, but enough to draw the doctor’s attention, who looked at her immediately.
“And your day?”
Baran still had beer left in her bottle, so she took a sip before offering a soft smile and replying:
“Much better now.” She brought the beer back to her lips, finishing it just as two more were placed on the table, Baran automatically sliding Trinity’s toward her, the damp glass gliding over the varnished wooden surface built to withstand the absurd amount of liquid spilled on it daily.
The music was loud enough to fill the space but still low enough for conversation, the rhythm lively, and Trinity wanted to let loose, maybe burn off the rest of the chaotic energy still running through her body so she could sleep well once she got home.
“Want to dance?” She took a sip, her hand then brushing against Baran’s leg under the table, just above where her knee touched hers. She felt the muscle tense, but assumed it was from the surprise of the contact, not the contact itself.
“If you want to.” Baran moved to stand, taking a sip of her beer and extending her hand for Trinity to take, pulling her toward the space where a few people were throwing themselves from side to side, moving a lot, but not exactly dancing.
From there, the music was much louder, making conversation impossible, but not stopping Trinity from bringing the bottle to her lips for another sip while moving her body in the chaos of rhythm imposed by the others on the makeshift dance floor. There, she could blame it on the heat of the moment as she let her hand slide up along Baran’s arm, a touch so light it tickled at her fingertips, making the doctor glance down, following that path across her body traced by warm fingers.
They were occasional touches. They were on their third beer when Baran placed a hand on Trinity’s waist, more to pull her in and keep someone from stumbling into her than for anything else. But she kept her close after that, the dance contagious and lively, feet sometimes lifting off the ground in small jumps to the beat of the music playing.
“I really needed this.” Trinity said as they made their way back to the table, a new drink in her hand, Baran still with her beer. “Thank you.” Her hand rested on Baran’s arm, sliding until her fingers brushed along the fabric of her shirt, feeling the firmness of her abdomen before looking at the doctor as that mix of scents started to make her head spin.
“I think you need to eat something.” She steadied her, her hand surprisingly firm, making Trinity gasp softly and shiver.
“Let me guess, you can help me with that?” The smile was a little more intoxicated, but nothing alarming. Trinity had a decent tolerance for alcohol, and by then the beer was only making her feel lighter, maybe—mostly—because she hadn’t eaten anything proper in hours.
When they sat down again, Baran ordered something to eat.
“I can.” She seemed amused by the situation, until Santos’s hand rested on her thigh again, giving a light squeeze, fingers flexing in a movement that felt more unthinking than intentional. Her attention shifted to those eyes that were no longer as sharp as in the ER, something softer and gentler now.
“What else can you help me with, Dr. Al?”
She leaned in, her hair falling slightly over her face, one hand touching Trinity’s on her thigh while the other tucked a strand of Santos’s hair behind her right ear.
“Whatever you want.”
But she pulled back, her back resting against the cushioned booth she shared with Santos, bringing the beer to her lips again, taking long sips to cool herself down. After all, the beer Al-Hashimi was drinking was non-alcoholic, partly because she was the one driving, and partly because she often avoided alcohol so it wouldn’t interfere with her medical status and her health.
Santos ate to keep her mouth —and her hands— busy. She glanced sideways from time to time, and when Al-Hashimi reached for some fries from the plate, their hands brushed, the backs of their fingers touching, almost sparking something that could be felt between them.
It was Baran who paid the bill, of course. She didn’t leave it up for discussion. Even when Trinity suggested splitting it, she raised the flag of: I invited you, it was my idea, the bill is mine.
“I really did need this.” She had already said it, but as she dropped into the passenger seat of that car, her mouth refused to stay quiet.
“My pleasure.” Baran started the engine, Trinity’s address already set in the car’s GPS, taking her where she needed to be to make sure she got home safely.
The drive was mostly silent, aside from the hum of the car and those heavier breaths whenever Trinity exhaled through her lips, almost as if her mouth was fighting her brain to keep everything in. And she was definitely losing.
When Baran parked, when she turned toward Trinity with a smile on her lips, those sweet eyes hiding something almost dangerous at the edges while one hand stayed on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.
“I hope the rest of your night is excellent. Good night, Trinity.” Baran unfastened her seatbelt, ready to walk Santos to the building entrance.
“Is that something you can help me with too?” Her mouth had clearly won against her brain and whatever filter had been trying to keep her quiet. The seatbelt snapped back into place as she shifted to face Baran more directly, one leg folded on the seat, those blue eyes asking for something more. Inside the car, in that confined space, Santos could pick up Baran’s scent more clearly, usually so subtle and dulled by suppressants, something that made her seem untouchable, but there was still a trace Trinity could catch there. It was enveloping, making her body react — not that she hadn’t already been reacting to the Al-Hashimi effect long before that.
“If you wa—” her voice got lost at the roof of her mouth as she leaned toward Baran, her knee knocking lightly against the gear shift while she grabbed the front of that beautiful blue shirt, pressing her lips to hers with the urgency of something she had wanted to do back at the bar.
It was warm, soft, and immediate. Her tongue brushing into her mouth, tangling with hers, the softness of those curls under her palm as they slipped between her fingers, her other hand sliding to find exactly where that damn necklace ended. Warm skin beneath, and then the end of it with a delicate pendant that Trinity couldn’t care less about in that moment, not with Baran’s mouth on hers, not with her hand pulling her closer.
“I want to,” her voice came out between uneven breaths, her chest rising and falling as she shifted onto Baran’s lap, one leg on either side of her hips as she sat in the driver’s seat. Her hands moved over her face and then back into her hair again, soft and silky. Sweet, gentle eyes that hid a heat almost too much to handle.
“I noticed.”
Her hands moved along Santos’s waist, gripping and pulling her closer, Baran’s face tilting toward hers even as she felt her hair being tugged to keep her face in place, her head pressed back against the seat. But there was a lingering curiosity about Santos’s true scent, and that neck was right there, so close—it would be torture not to allow herself.
The same hands that had touched her waist slid down those back, one considerably bolder, gripping Santos's straight hair and pulling briefly, but firmly and masterfully, making her tilt her head to the side, exposing her neck, feeling the skin through the backless neckline and then pulling her against his face, hiding in that warm neck. Rubbing himself there, making Santos's body react to the touch of an alpha, even if fleetingly, contained by the suppressants. Enough to know the scent would be intoxicating when free.
Santos's body reacted to everything — to the way Al-Hashimi's nose rubbed against her warm skin, to that hand in her hair and the other on her back, to her chest pressed against hers. It was impossible to stay still, her hips grinding in search of any friction, feeling Al-Hashimi's leg rise from the seat, only needing to move minimally backward, finding in that thigh a comfort for the hot throbbing between her legs.
When their lips met again, one of Baran's hands was firm against Santos's lower back, helping her in that needy movement of the resident's body against her thigh. It was a brief moan that separated them, it was Trinity's motion of throwing her head back while moving her hip faster — she would have hit the steering wheel, but Baran pulled the seat back with the speed of someone unwilling to miss any opportunity. Watching the scene with her gentle, burning eyes.
"You're so beautiful."
It was the sweetness that broke Trinity every time.
Maybe it was that touch on her face while Baran still helped with the movements, while keeping her leg raised so Trinity could use it as an anti-stress.
"More…" it was urgent, so Baran complied with the request. Her hand sliding over the button of Trinity's pants, opening it and pulling the zipper down just enough for her right hand to slip between the weight of her thigh against that body and Santos's warm, already wet skin.
"Damn…" it wasn't a complaint, the tone carried much more adoration. Her fingers sliding until they reached the lips and then parting them delicately, exposing the sensitive, warm part to her fingers, playing in a slide before giving Trinity what she and her body asked for in unison.
It was wet, warm, slippery to the point of making her close her eyes to try to anchor herself and not give in. The finger sliding inside, only to slide back out and penetrate her again, now with a second finger alongside the first.
The sound, that hand on her shoulder and the way Santos threw her head back and then looked back at Baran as if she needed to see her, as if she wanted to etch the sensation of having her inside her.
She could feel by the muscle contractions that Santos was close to her climax, and that only encouraged her to curl her fingers inside her, feeling the soft walls closing around her fingers while she still moved her hip seeking more friction, speed, seeking the orgasm as if she needed it for a good night's sleep — and Baran would give her that. Her mouth on that warm, sweaty collarbone while she fucked her with agile, skillful fingers.
"So perfect moving like that… keep going, you look incredibly sexy on my lap, needy and wet." It was the tone of voice, that same affection embedded even in those low words.
It was Baran's other arm wrapping around Santos's waist while now three fingers slid inside her as if they belonged to her body, it was her mouth on her collarbone and eventually her neck, it was the pleasant smell of Baran's hair in her nose that made her arch her back, a spasm taking over her body as she came on Al-Hashimi's fingers, her voice a mewl almost dissonant with the tough image she always projected at work. And then her forehead against those soft strands, trying to adjust her breathing rhythm while Baran still kept her fingers playing on her almost overstimulated clit at that moment.
"Do you feel better?" It was almost an academic question in that tone, and Santos felt herself clench around nothing just from that implication.
"Uh-huh." She still lacked voice, but she nodded in agreement. "I can…" her hands slid down Baran's chest, squeezing them lightly as she watched the muscle give way and join its neighbor. Soft, and she could swear, succulent in her mouth.
"You don't have to. The intention was to make you relax tonight, and I feel like I managed to help." She commented as Santos pulled away slightly. A curious look at all of it, almost as if she expected some kind of brutal rejection that would discourage her even more. "Don't get me wrong, I would love to. I just want to be sure you know what you want. No alcohol, no pent-up anger at the woman who should be treating you well and just ignores you at the hospital." Oh, of course Baran had noticed, she wasn't blind.
Santos got off her lap, falling heavily back onto the passenger seat, her hands closing her pants as she looked to the side, noticing Al-Hashimi's eyes on her own hand wet with Santos's pleasure. And then she raised her hand, close to her face, but turned to Santos, tilting her body while offering a smile.
"That was just a free sample of how you can be treated by someone, Trinity." And then she brought her wet fingers to her mouth, sucking them as if there lay the nectar of nectars. Lips pressed together while her tongue licked between her fingers, carrying Santos's taste over her taste buds, letting it permeate her mouth in that memory while she couldn't truly devour her. "Who knows, next time I might taste you straight from the source, hmm?"
With her fingers clean, she brought that hand to Santos's hair, although being careful to touch her only with her index finger, occasionally her thumb, keeping the licked fingers like a ghost touch as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Sleep well." And then she pulled her, something gentle but authoritative, her index finger and thumb pulling Santos by the chin as she leaned in to kiss her.
Santos was still slack-jawed. Perhaps from the hunger with which Baran had licked her own fingers in search of her taste, from the sweet way she had tucked her hair, or from everything else she still needed to digest.
"Good night…"
"You can call me by my name, if you want."
Santos let out a nasal laugh, something that brought out her nervousness a little. Apparently kissing and having Baran's fingers inside her was fine, but calling her by name caused a frisson in her nervous system? "Good night, Baran."
It came out almost dissonant, she would need to practice a bit more, maybe calling her that when she wasn't facing that striking presence.
Trinity grabbed her purse, opened the car door, and then turned back inside before closing the door.
"How long have you known?"
"Long enough to know that I could be better for you."
When Trinity entered the apartment, the door closed behind her back and a warmth still permeating her body, she knew she would need to tell her friend that she went out for a drink with Dr. Al, but he would be now enjoying a night shift. And depending on how his mood was, she would leave the information very vague. Maybe he would be the voice of her conscience telling her she couldn't sleep with her boss. Come to think of it, it was better to inform that something had happened only after something more substantial actually occurred…