Dr. Sameen Shaw has a secret.
Well, not really a secret, since that implies that she cares enough about what anyone thinks to keep something secret from them, and that she in fact knows anyone well enough to justify keeping a secret from them.
But still, it is not one of the things she finds herself immensely proud of.
She very rarely (i.e., never) finds herself wanting for human interaction, but on some occasions she does desire human contact of another variety, and to that end, on her nights off she is a frequent patron at bars and clubs. These excursions generally tend to fuel her distaste for both bars and clubs as well as the human race in general, and often she resolves never to set foot in any of the establishments again.
But she’s never quite able to follow through on that. So again Dr. Shaw is spending her evening at a (only mildly) sleazy club far enough away from the hospital where she works that the risk of running into coworkers is acceptably low.
Tonight’s prospect is not looking good. Scratch that, he’s looking very good. Tall, lean but well-muscled, clean-shaven. Looks are not the issue here. The issue is that, when Dr. Shaw gave a polite “Hmm,” of interest to a comment he made about his truck, he misconstrued it as a genuine “Hmm,” of interest and proceeded to regale her, in assiduous detail, all the specs of this particular truck. Ironically, in almost any other situation, Dr. Shaw would view this as one of very few conversational topics worth pursuing; she’s mainly a muscle car girl, but she’s not too picky. On this occasion, however, what she really wants is someone to take back to her apartment, thrash around with in bed for about an hour, and then kick out before she goes to sleep so she doesn’t have to explain why there are two toothbrushes in her bathroom, or several pairs of boots in her closet that she can obviously never wear. Even her blatant “Why don’t you show me,” combined with a lean-in and a leg cross doesn’t do the trick. Really, if she hadn’t already confirmed that she looked extremely fucking hot with herself before she left her apartment, her self esteem might have taken a blow. Instead, she’s just getting increasingly annoyed.
“Excuse me,” A voice interrupts, and Dr. Shaw grits her teeth and resists the urge to put her face in her hands. “I need to talk to Dr. Shaw for a minute,” the owner of the voice continues. “Official government business. Sorry.” She flashes a badge with an apologetic grimace, and slides into the seat that Dr. Shaw’s companion vacates.
“Hey, Shaw.” Special Agent Root says, leaning way too far into Shaw’s personal space. “Wanna buy me a drink?”
“No.” The woman is like a fungus, always creeping back up when it seemed like she was finally gone. Like when Shaw wakes up and finds Root snoring softly in bed next to her, after sleeping with her for the third time that week. Shaw admits to herself (only very reluctantly, though) that their repeated trysts do not really lend credence to her oft-stated (to herself, and to Agent Root) desire to be rid of the woman in a more permanent fashion. Perhaps that’s not really what Dr. Shaw wants, after all. Though she does still get annoyed anytime the agent crops in a place she has no business being.
The biggest annoyance of all is that Special Agent Root, without exception, always looks amazing. Dr. Shaw had been harboring a secret hope that Root, always so confident in her ‘government agent’ getup of leather and tall boots, would be awkward outside the range of her professional purview. No such luck. She seems completely at ease in a navy blue dress that doesn’t even come halfway down her thigh, the dark color accentuating her light skin, her high heels doing the same for her legs. Not that they need accentuating. Ahem. Shaw pulls her eyes back up to Root’s face, which she presently has set in a smirk, aware of and pleased with the reaction she is eliciting.
“There’s no need to stare, Sameen.” She leaning in even further, hair brushing against Dr. Shaw’s arm, and, in a mock-conspiratorial whisper adds, “It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked.”
Shaw huffs out a breath and looks away, trying to keep her composure. “There any particular reason you’re here, or you just trying to ruin my night off?”
Root pulls back and sips Shaw’s drink, which she (somehow) acquired, keeping her eyes fixed on Shaw. “I can’t take my girl out someplace nice without a dark, secret motive?”
Shaw again drags her eyes away from Root’s legs, which are crossed in a way that she’s sure is intended to show the maximum amount of skin. “This place isn’t nice.” She says shortly. “And you definitely didn’t bring me here.”
Root’s lips and eyebrows reorient themselves to form that you’re-being-very-silly-Sameen-but-I’m-humoring-you look that her face so often bears. “I wasn’t talking about here.” She leans forward again, placing a hand on Dr. Shaw’s knee, the skin-on-skin contact sending jolts through Shaw’s leg, and further up. Root grins, clearly aware that Dr. Shaw’s ability to make decisions with her brain instead of her body is rapidly diminishing, and says, “Wanna go look at some dead bodies?”
Dr. Shaw thinks about the offer for a few seconds, but no more than that. “God, yes.” The night was a wash anyway. Screw clubs and screw this bullshit attempt at socializing, taking people apart to find what killed them is what Shaw is meant to do, and even the company of Special Agent Root won’t sour that for her. In fact, Root’s presence is something she’s becoming increasingly amenable to.
(goddamn libido)
***
Root holds the caution tape up and gestures for Dr. Shaw to go through, and she does, though not before rolling her eyes at Root’s mocking chivalry.
Other officers and personnel of various types mill around, but Root produces her this-lets-me-do-anything-I-want badge, and she’s allowed entrance to the crime scene without question. Very handy, that. And maybe she’s trying to show off a little for Sameen’s sake. And who can blame her? It’s not every day that a beautiful woman accompanies her to work. Though it would be every day, if Root had her way.
“You usually work dressed like this?” Shaw asks her as they walk, crossing the field that the local department had roped off when the first reports came in.
“Only when I’m trying to impress a lady.” Shaw scoffs at this, but Root recalls that she didn’t dispute the assertion of ‘my girl’ earlier in the evening. ‘Recalls’ in this instance being used in a continual sense, since Root has not ceased to recall this particular omission on Dr. Shaw’s part since it first took place. Not an accident, either, Root is quite sure.
“How come these bodies haven’t been taken to the morgue already?” Shaw asks, as they reach the site where the victims still lay.
“Special circumstances.” Root answers. “And I thought it would make a nice outing for us.”
Shaw doesn’t respond, which Root takes to be full agreement with her comment. The doctor bends over to inspect the first body closer. Root has to admit, as she watches Dr. Shaw, though she finds Shaw’s regular work attire to be terribly sexy, there is something to be said for this new, hair-down, high-heeled, skin-baring iteration of Dr. Shaw. A shiver of pleasure runs through her at the thought that she’s probably the only one to know both versions of Shaw. A shiver of a different kind of pleasure shoots through her as she looks at the large expanse of Shaw’s back that her dress bares.
“Quit it.” Dr. Shaw grunts without turning around, and then, under her breath, mutters, “Not like you’ve never seen me naked.”
“I never get tired of looking at you, Sameen.” Root crouches down beside her. “So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re drunk if you think that faux-romantic bullshit is going to work on me.“
“About the body, Shaw.”
“Gunshot wound.” Shaw says, pointing. “That’s not what killed him, though. Not enough blood. He was already dead when he got shot.” She looks over at Root. “Who the hell shoots a dead guy?” Root offers only an exaggerated shrug, and Shaw gestures at the other body. “This guy, though… he’s still warm. No pulse, rigor mortis has set in, so he’s definitely dead, but somehow he’s not cold. What the fuck is going on here?” Root, again, gives nothing but an I-don’t-know raise of her shoulders.
“That’s why I wanted you.” The agent says. “Well, one of the reasons I wanted you, anyway.”
Dr. Shaw lets out a loud sigh, stands up, brushes back her hair, and says, “OK, fine, Root. I’m intrigued. Send the bodies over and I’ll see what I can find.”
“They’ll be there tomorrow.” Root tells her, standing up as well, and moving with Shaw back towards her car.
“I’ll drive you back to your apartment.” Root says when they reach her car, unlocking the doors with the key fob in her pocket. “I can stay, if you want some company.” When Shaw hesitates, jaw working like something’s trying to get out, or like she’s trying to keep something in, Root adds uncertainly, “Or I can take you back to the club, if you want to see if Mr. Big Truck is still available.”
“…No.” Shaw finally mutters. “Sex with anyone else is just disappointing.”
Root’s heart beats wildly, her brain and body so euphoric that she thinks it’s probably visible to anyone nearby as a glow emitting from her skin.
Of course, she never had any doubts about her performance putting anyone else to shame, but still, Shaw vocalizing it is a big step in their relationship.
***
“Just move my stuff to a different drawer.” Shaw’s voice groans from the bed, where she’s currently lying face-down, as Root searches for a place in Shaw’s room to put the pile of clothes she ‘accidentally’ brought with her. Root opts instead to store her clothes in the drawer alongside Shaw’s. She’s already staked out a side of the closet, and has begun supplementing Shaw’s fridge with some foodstuffs more to Root’s own taste (as well as a select few firearms, but really, that’s just because she doesn’t have anywhere else to put them). She closes the drawer and walks back to the bed, stepping around the shoes and undergarments that they’d discarded hastily as they came in the room.
Root lays down on the bed, and runs her hand along Shaw’s back. “You want to go to sleep?”
Shaw turns around to look at her, face very nearly grinning, and says, “Not yet.”