Pre-Therapy
When the painful sixty minutes of breathing exercises were over, the team were all disappointed that Harold hadn’t sounded an alarm or some kind of distraction to get them out earlier. The foursome decided to split up to scour the property and set up surveillance. Thankfully, Harold hacked the therapist’s schedule, so both couples didn’t have other therapy sessions until the next morning. Shaw and Reese had both asked if all therapy sessions could be hacked away completely. Harold just said hopefully for their own sakes; they found the perpetrators quickly as to prevent any harm to anyone and more therapy sessions.
The two fake couples decided the men would go off under the guise of playing golf to check the outside parameters and see how much they could see of science/nuclear conference. Reese and Fusco dressed in golf attire was a sight to behold.
“I don’t know what’s more disturbing, these clothes or the tracksuit,” Shaw said upon seeing her fake husband before they departed.
Reese once again looked like he had a stylist picking out his clothes; his golf ensemble was classy and handsome. Root walked up to him and felt the shirt in between her fingers. She eyed Tinswell’s assistant off at the opposite side of the lobby. So she leaned up and gave Reese a lingering kiss on the check.
“What the hell was that for?” Shaw couldn’t believe she just said that out loud. “I mean, don’t oversell it.”
“Joan at two o’clock,” said Root, before adding, “have fun sweetie.”
Shaw did NOT want to admit that hearing Root call Reese sweetie grated on her nerves, in fact, it might have grated on her nerves more than when she was called sweetie herself. Shaw was brought of her thought suddenly by yet another huge mistake by her fake husband; she was soon to be widowed.
Fusco got an amused look in his eye; he lightly smacked Shaw on the bottom again, “Sammy, don’t spend all our savings in one store, okay.” He winked at her before him, and Reese walked out of the lobby.
“I’m almost jealous of Lionel’s hand,” said Root in a highly amused voice, “except I fear he might lose it very soon.”
“Don’t …start,” growled Shaw.
“We’ve got a lot of rooms to cover in a short amount of time. The Machine just informed me all the scientists are in a meeting, so let’s start there first.” Root took off quickly down one of the corridors with Shaw following her.
Root and Shaw took the task of installing the surveillance equipment in all the needed rooms. Harold gave them a list of the scientists, so they concentrated on those rooms first and the couples at the retreat, the therapist, and her assistant. Since there were so many rooms to cover, they got it done to a breezy 120 seconds per room. It was serious business with, of course, Root’s innuendos and talking in between rooms. Thankfully, Shaw noticed it didn’t seem to slow them down. She had to give it to Root; the woman could multi-task like a big ass boss.
They were done and walking back to the rooms. “See, we make a pretty perfect team,” Root teased as they finished the last room. “I always thought you would marry someone taller,” the tall brunette smirked at the shorter woman. “He does almost have the hair color I imagined, although a few too many curls.”
“I always thought you would never marry,” as soon as Shaw said it, she scolded herself for the lame response, she could do better than that.
“I hear Fusco is quite the snorer like a bulldozer truck meets an amplified foghorn,” Root stared too intensely into Shaw’s eyes as usual. Shaw groaned on in the inside; she did not want to think about tonight and her possible lack of sleep. She imagined he would be a very loud snorer. She wished there was another room.
“Too bad we’re not sharing, I can be pretty quiet in bed…well, when I’m sleeping,” and of course, Root had to invade Shaw’s personal space for this remark, stepping in front of the shorter woman and stopping them in the hallway.
And there’s the reason why Shaw thought she didn’t want to change roommates. Fusco was a safe bet; she could only imagine how difficult Root would be sharing a room. Shaw had a feeling being secluded with Root would not be a good idea. Root’s flirting had gotten more hardcore recently, and she hadn’t done much to stop it or even slow it down. It had been a while since she had anybody for one or three nights. And as much as she ground her teeth and admitted she might want to be with Root for one or three nights, she knew the tall brunette would not be down for that happening. She just wanted the one or three nights, that was all; no strings attached. Part of her was so curious to see if Root was all talk and no performance delivery.
“We got something here,” John said over the communication link, Root and Shaw snapped out of their verbal foreplay and listened.
“What is it, Mr. Reese?” asked Finch, who so far had been tucked away in the resort’s maintenance quarters. He had siphoned off a closet to set up all his equipment so that he could monitor all the rooms along with the resort cameras located practically everywhere on the property. The head maintenance supervisor had suddenly won a trip of a lifetime around the world, and Harold got the temp job of replacing him.
Shaw jumped at the chance to get away from this conversation and to get momentarily away from Root.
“We’ll start heading your way,” said Shaw with Root following her quickly behind her.
“Looks like someone set up cameras that are not a part of the resort’s equipment,” Reese and Fusco were way out in the golf course, “all along the perimeter.”
Harold typed away and confirmed that Reese was indeed right. “I’m going to dig around. See if I can locate where these signals and information are being sent.”
“Are we actually going to get to play golf?” asked Fusco.
“Yes, that would be a good idea. Continue your cover, Mr. Reese,” said Harold before signing off to investigate.
“But Finch…” it was too late before Reese asked. “Shaw, there’s no need for you two come out here, keep up your covers, maybe hit the beach?”
Shaw stopped walking and rolled her eyes. “Copy that.”
“Are you wearing a one-piece or two-piece suit? I’m hoping for a two-piece,” Root drawled while staring at Shaw.
“Keep dreaming,” Shaw strolled off.
*****
Begrudgingly, Shaw did what Reese had suggested, she and Root went down to the beach. It’s not that she didn’t want to be on the beach, she just wasn’t sure she wanted to be on the beach with Root…alone. However, it was already late in the afternoon bordering in the evening, so catching a beach sunset did sound nice. Not romantic at all, just a beautiful spectacle of nature to witness.
Root was lounging at the beach in a long chair talking to the older couple at the retreat, a retired pair from the Midwest. She didn’t know how long she would be able to relax at the beach being on The Machine or Harry’s beck and call, so she choose a tank top and short shorts to lounge instead of a swimsuit.
“What does your husband do for a living?” asked the married older woman.
Before Root could explain Reese’s cover job, she saw Shaw approaching them in a black bikini, and she lost all thought processes. Her hopes and dreams were coming true, and she couldn’t stop the sunshine beam spreading across her face.
Shaw noticed the dopey look on Root’s face and decided wearing the bikini was worth it, payback was a loud asshole sometimes. Shaw sauntered over and took the empty chair on the other side of Root.
“Uh, sorry,” stumbled Root, “What was the question?” Root asked the older married couple.
“What does your husband do for a living?”
Root was trying to remember John’s cover story, but her brain was solely focused on Sameen in a bikini next to her. This was one time she was cursing her hormones for behaving like a horny teenage kid.
“Sorry, to interrupt,” Shaw smiled big at Root and the older couple, “Do you mind…was it, Sam? Could you help here with the sunscreen?”
Root gave her an evil squint of her eyes.
“The sun is about to set, I don’t think it’s necessary,” said Root in hopes of Shaw or at least Betty agreeing with her.
“Oh, it’s better to be safe than sorry, honey. That cancer is everywhere,” remarked the older married woman. She made a motion for Root to help Shaw with spreading lotion on her scantily clad back.
Now normally, Root would more than relish in touching Shaw in any way possible, especially skin on skin contact. However, pretending to be a straight married woman and in front of an elderly couple, well, it was a real mood killer and a job hazard. Root smiled and took the sunscreen from Shaw’s hand. As soon as her hands touched Shaw’s back, the shorter woman let out a small gasp (bordering on moan) that made Root’s stomach drop.
“Sorry, I think I might be burnet a little already. It feels really sensitive,” Shaw was almost laughing, seeing her effect on Root.
It was quite a lot of fun Shaw decided, seeing Root so flustered and restrained. Root couldn’t make any suggestive remarks, or over the top innuendos, she was bound to her cover.
“I need the whole back covered...completely if you don’t mind.” Root rubbed up and down Shaw’s back, concentrating a little too hard. “Oh, could you get under the suit too? I don’t want an unruly tan line…thanks.”
Root swallowed up a moan while she lathered up her hands and massaged them into Shaw’s back, going under her swimsuit in parts. The tall brunette wanted nothing more than just to untie the flimsy top and discard it, but she didn’t think Betty and Fred would appreciate that show.
“You’re so pretty dear. We didn’t get to meet formally yet. I’m Betty, and this here is my husband Fred,” the older woman motioned her husband sitting on a beach chair reading the newspaper.
“Hi, I’m…” Shaw gritted her teeth, “…Sammy. My husband is Lionel; he runs an auto parts store.”
“And your husband?” asked Betty to Root again.
“John is in mergers and acquisitions,” Root figured this was close enough to what the fake cover story was since she was still having trouble thinking with her hands on Shaw’s bare skin. Thankfully, she was almost done, and about to hand back over the sunscreen. It was sweet torture for sure; she had to completely force herself not to lean forward and kiss the nape of Sameen’s neck. At this point, she wasn’t entirely sure Shaw would object. And even if the former assassin did, it was worth a shot. It was extremely hard for Root to act like it was nothing to have this kind of physical contact with Shaw and not show any outwardly signs. She hoped the older husband kept reading his paper and that the wife was oblivious.
“Can you do the arms too?” Shaw turned her head, so she wasn’t facing Root or Betty and Fred. She was having too much fun getting under Root’s skin.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Root as she tried to hand the bottle back to Shaw.
“Please,” Shaw turned around and batted her eyes at Root. It was pretty awesome watching Root’s whole face get flushed, and her eyes get little by little more smoldering the more she had to keep politely touching Shaw.
“You’re really smart, you got to take care of that pretty skin,” said Betty while nodding.
Root put some more sunscreen in her hand, rubbed them together for dramatic effect, and leaned in to put one hand on each one of Shaw’s arms. Betty did seem pretty oblivious as she started talking about her kids and grandkids, Root kept asking her questions in hopes of distracting the woman. Root knew if she were guy, she would probably have trouble leaving the chair any time soon, and a towel would be helpful. At one point, when Betty turned away, Root took the chance to dig her nails into Shaw’s arm.
“Keep that up, and I’ll ask you to do my legs while I’ll make sure Betty agrees,” smirked Shaw. Root had no doubt she could probably convince the older woman to agree with her with some inane excuse like a bad back or something.
Root retracted her slight black fingernails. As soon as Betty finished explaining her family tree, she said she and Fred had to get ready for dinner. Root was relieved from the break from touching Shaw because she wanted to touch her a whole lot more, and knowing she couldn’t was almost painful. She scooted up to layback in her chair and faced toward the ocean. Root and Shaw were left alone watching the sunset.
“You have to admit, this doesn’t suck,” said Root while glancing over to Shaw, who didn’t turn her gaze from the sunset.
“It would be even better in peace and quiet,” said Shaw without glancing over.
The two of them sat and enjoyed the Maui sunset. It was Shaw that broke the silence a few minutes later, as the sun was almost completely gone out of view.
“Why aren’t you wearing a swimsuit?” asked Shaw.
“Why are you disappointed?”
“No,” Shaw tried her hardest to brush off her actual disappointment, “just an observation.”
“I wanted to be ready in case The Machine or Harold needed anything,” said Root while watching the tip of the sun as it vanished into the ocean.
“Nerd,” said Shaw concentrating on the ocean waves.
*****
When the two fake couples arrived for dinner at the resort restaurant, they were surprised they were all seated separately, one couple per table.
“Maybe Dr. Tinswell thinks all the couples need some alone time,” said Reese as he held the chair for Root to sit down.
Reese and Fusco looked very tan from playing nearly a full game of golf without any sunscreen.
Fusco and Shaw sat down at their table with way less fanfare, more like an old married couple.
“Tsk, tsk Lionel. You didn’t pull out the chair for your wife,” Root said discreetly through the communication link while winking at Shaw.
“Or maybe we make a more believable couple because we don’t go for all that fakey nicety stuff,” said Shaw.
“Shaw you do realize that you just said that you and Lionel make a believable couple,” said Reese with a slight smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah, that’s because we’re better than you two,” said Shaw while pretending to read her menu.
“I second that, I always knew I would be great at undercover work,” said Fusco, he fist-pumped Shaw, and they toasted each other with their waters.
Reese and Root looked on at their co-workers/friends and then back to each other.
“Well, I think Joan is pretty enamored with us,” Root said while pretending to read her menu.
“That’s only because she wants a threesome with you two,” Shaw tore off part of a piece of bread and shoved it in her mouth.
“Not something to be too proud of there, Barbie and Ken,” said Fusco while chomping on his own piece of bread.
“She does not,” Root seemed almost appalled at the idea, so did Reese. “We are an ideal pair,” Root reached over and put her hand over Reese’s much to his slight grimace.
“Not buying it Reese, you suck,” Shaw tore off another piece a little too strongly while keeping an eye on Root and Reese.
Reese smirked a little, then lifted Root’s hand to his lips and kissed it laggardly while smoothly rubbing a few circles on top before holding it and resting it on the table, keeping their hands intertwined. “Beat that, Shaw.”
“Lionel, don’t even think about it,” Shaw knew they might have lost this round, but her and Fusco would win the next one. Plus, she was already one up on Root.
*****
Fusco’s snoring was pretty unbearable indeed as it turned out. Shaw could sleep through a lot from all her years of travel and service; however, Fusco’s snoring was a beast all unto its self. She had to see if Finch could find another room for her, or tent or something. Her wax earplugs and noise-canceling earphones were no match for Fusco. She threw back the blanket on the couch, grabbed her hoodie, and left the room.
Reese opened the door with a tired look on his face; Shaw pushed her way into the room. The room was at least three times the size of her and Fusco’s, with two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen.
“Your room is massive,” said a surprised Shaw. “What the hell?”
“You and Lionel don’t have the same love nest,” smiled Reese.
“Fusco and I have to share one freakin room, and you two have a suite? You each have your own bedroom?”
“Maybe your small space gives you more bonding time with Fusco,” Reese said as he watched Shaw survey the room.
“I don’t bond. I’m staying here tonight. Root can sleep in your room,” even as she said it, Shaw knew she did not want Root sleeping in Reese’s room.
Shaw’s brain already kept replaying their little scene from dinner, and she didn’t like watching it. She didn’t like seeing Reese kiss Root’s hand even if she knew Reese barely tolerated the former hacker and vice versa at times.
“No way Shaw, there’s a couch, or you can share with Root. Harold said everything is calm right now, so I’m going to take a nap,” Reese headed to his room then added, “I’m sure she doesn’t bite, unless you want her to,” said with a sarcastic tone and a wink in his eyes.
Reese had a pretty good feeling that Shaw would eventually cave one day and admit she had feelings or something close to feelings for the former killer for hire. He knew already that Root was head over heels for the former government assassin. He noticed every time Shaw came into a room that Root only had eyes for her, even sometimes when they were on a mission. Root’s total adoration for Shaw could possibly get them into trouble one day. And quite possibly all of them killed. Shaw wasn’t much better, she might not outwardly reciprocate the stares and the lingering glances, but over time without fail her number one question whenever the tall brunette wasn’t around was always, ‘Where’s Root?’ It was a question he was growing tired of. The two very intense women needed just to call or text each other locations. Communicate in some capacity to each other and not through him and other team members.
“No way. Root can take the couch,” Shaw eyed the couch then looked over to Root’s bedroom.
“I can’t wait to see you make that happen. I’ll make popcorn,” Reese said with a confident grin. He turned, went into his room, and closed the door.
Shaw walked over to Root’s room; she listened to the closed door. She could hear the shower running, so she opened the door and walked in. Shaw spread out on the bed, letting the tiredness of the travel and the therapy session wash over here.
Root was more than pleasantly surprised when she came out of her bathroom wrapped only in a towel and her hair wet to find Shaw sprawled out on her bed.
“Well, this certainly is a welcome sight. Literally a dream come true,” Root’s face was beaming. She had no idea what brought Shaw to room let alone her bed but she was thanking the snoring gods tonight on their gifted son of Fusco.
Shaw had her hands behind her head wearing only her blank tank top and black boy shorts. Root’s eyes took the time to ravish everything they could see of one Sameen Shaw, which was quite a lot. When Shaw had taken off her coat for the first time in front of Root at that hotel, her hormones and heart started raging; they’ve never slowed down since.
“You can take the couch tonight,” Shaw was not prepared for Root to have exited the bathroom only in a towel. She glanced over fleetingly at Root, she did not want to linger or exchange looks with her. She could already feel her face getting flush and she tried hard to shut down her whole body from reacting. She was pissed her body had this type of reaction to anear-naked Root. She thought they had a deal, no Root thoughts whatsoever. Her brain was on board; her raging hormones were renegade that wanted nothing more to tear the towel off Root pull her down on the bed—damn hormones. Hormones could be real assholes sometimes.
“Not sure how you came to that conclusion since you’re the one that crawled into my bed,” Root said in a husky voice.
“Fusco made a rule about seniority and beds; you were the last one to join the team so you get the couch,” even as she said this Shaw could tell her voice was wavering.
“There’s enough room for us to share, and besides, I’m all ready for bed,” Root walked over to the bed and moved her hand to drop the towel.
Shaw caught the movement and very quickly turned her head just before the towel fell to the floor, and Root slipped into the bed nude. Shaw jumped off the bed as if it was on fire, and in way, it was since her skin felt like it was getting scorched.
Root eyed Shaw’s tank top and boy shorts, “Do you usually sleep in so much?” To say the question was said suggestively was a vast understatement.
Shaw made a huge huff and moved towards the open door. She then turned around and took one of the pillows from the bed while giving a fierce look to Root. Shaw slammed the door on the way out.
“Goodnight, Sweetie,” said a somewhat disappointed Root with a smirk on her face. She guessed they were probably even now or maybe never.