ItchyOutchyZ

'not that i care at all, but do you not like it?'

'no, victoria says, way too breathlessly. 'that's not — that is absolutely not it. that's not the problem.'

it's truly the wrong thing to say because trinity grins delightedly, which is genuinely never a good sign. 'what exactly is the problem then, crash?'

the problem, victoria wants to say, is that trinity does things without warning — not that, obviously, she owes victoria or anyone for that matter explanation for what she wants to do with her own body, but still. the problem is that it's so fucking hot and victoria wants to run her hands through it and kiss her and maybe tug a little and the fucking problem is that they're at work and she can't do any of that.

'your bangs are going to be in your eyes,' victoria says, and it's truly so stupid she just gives up and walks out with a huff while trinity laughs.

//

victoria finds trinity in the ambulance bay later, staring off into space, her undershirt tugged down over her hands to combat the afternoon chill. the light is thin and waning but she still looks lovely in it, her cheeks blushing in the cold, her jaw soft. her henly is sage today and, when victoria clears her throat to give trinity warning, the shade of green brings out her eyes. she's still startled, flinching in a way she tries to hide — but victoria knows her now, knows the way her hands shake after bad shifts, knows how it takes a while for her eyes to focus when she's half-here, half-not.

it's not that they're dating, really, but when victoria comes over or when they go out together, they kiss — a lot. she's pretty sure trinity took her on a date last thursday. victoria was surprised, the first time they slept together, how sweet trinity was, often checking in, laughing, not making victoria feel awkward or weird about her lack of experience; she's come to realize now that consent is one of the most important things in the world to trinity, uncompromising and thoughtful. they haven't talked about it fully, but victoria can fill in the gaps, even if she doesn't know the dtails of the full story. she's spent a few evenings with trinity after shifts where they had child abuse cases, sitting on the couch quietly, something stupid on bravo playing in the background, while trinity picked at pizza victoria picked up from her favorite spot around the corner. trinity would drink a lot of wine and eventually go out to the fire escape to smoke a joint. victoria has seen trinity's scars and the way she seems hollowed out on bad days; victoria will sift her fingers through trinity's hair as her body finally starts to regulate. even though victoria is fairly certain trinity usually spends those nights sleepless, they still go to her bed and victoria will hold her until morning.

but today hadn't been horrible; it was busy — a few serious traumas and the current flu season producing a steady stream of patients in chairs. victoria figures trinity is, mostly, just tired.

'sorry for being weird earlier,' victoria says.

'you're always weird.'

'your hair suits you like this,' she soldiers on. 'it's really hot.' trinity preens a little; victoria has learned that she can't help but respond to praise sometimes, which is funny and a little embarrassing because trinity desperately tries to pretend she's unaffected. victoria is, unfortunately, kind of fond of it now.

'well, langdon said that whitaker and i are twins now, so.'

victoria watches her face for a moment — desperately unhappy and a little disgusted at the thought — but she can't help the giggle that makes its way out of her. 'do you need help hiding a body?'

trinity slides her gaze over to her, tries so hard to be serious, but she ends up losing her internal battle and laughs. victoria thinks she should laugh more, with how funny she is — and how pretty she looks when she does.

victoria hazards a glance around; the ambulance bay is empty. she steps forward and, when trinity offers a small nod, runs her hand through trinity's hair. it's different: shorter, obviously, messier, maybe a little darker — maybe a trick of the light — but its softness is familiar, the weight and texture of it.

'we're at work,' trinity says after a moment, but it's a little breathless while she leans into victoria's hand.

victoria smiles, thinks of kissing trinity again and again; she's a notoriously difficult person, as far as most people think, but she has soft spots — a lot of them, really — for the people she cares about, the people she's let in to care about her. 'yeah.' victoria draws her hand away. 'sorry.'

'you don't look very sorry.'

trinity has, frustratingly, been kind of a revelation for victoria: she's known for a long time now that she's queer, that gender and sexuality are too fluid and interesting and unimportant for her to limit herself. but she'd always been so much younger than her peers in school and so different from those her age that exploring that — experiencing it — for herself, in her own life, had always been beyond her grasp. but now there's trinity, with her stupid carabiner and her cargo pants and brush of eyeliner, the thrifted t-shirts she likes to cut into crops just above her hips. it's a little intoxicating, the way she refuses to confine herself: she doesn't shave and she prefers boxers; she likes mascara and, as she'd told victoria once a little drunk after she'd schooled both her and dennis in pool, loves her boobs. she has delicate tattoos and musky cologne. it's intoxicating, most of the time, to watch this person who is so resistant to let people in — so scared — be exactly who she is.

victoria shrugs. 'maybe i'm not.'

'yeah?'

'maybe i'm waiting for after work to tell you what i really think.'

trinity laughs then, an easy happiness. 'well, i'm looking forward to that.'

victoria grins. 'me too.'

/

later, in trinity's bed, with the moonlight spilling through the window, victoria takes her time to card her fingers through trinity's hair, pushing her bangs — which, to victoria's credit, did fall into her eyes during work — back, letting them settle messily, wonderfully. trinity is always pliant like this, spent and sated; she's put her boxers back on after sex like she usually does, still topless, the sheets rumpled beneath them. her eyes are half-closed; victoria knows she's relaxed, sleepy — safe, even if she won't quite say that.

'i know i was awkward earlier,' victoria says.

'you're gonna have to be more specific than that,' trinity drawls.

'you know what i'm talking about.'

trinity shifts onto her side, facing victoria, smiling. 'maybe. you could elaborate though.'

victoria rolls her eyes. 'whatever. i was just going to ask, now, like, sincerely. why you cut your hair.'

'not in the flustered way where you wanted to have sex with me in the locker room?'

'i was just surprised.' it doesn't land as forcefully as victoria would like, mostly because she's blushing and she had, in fact, come three times in the last hour in trinity's bed.

'sure.'

'whatever.'

trinity traces victoria's collarbone, gets a little distracted, but then reorients. 'i mean, i've had it short before.' this, victoria knows, because she kind of mortifyingly scrolled through trinity's entire instagram in the middle of the night two months ago. 'it was impulsive, i guess.'

'maybe a little.'

trinity shrugs. 'at least i went to jess at the salon and didn't just try to do it myself.'

victoria nods, granting her that. victoria might not feel it in the same way or have all of the same reasons, but she understands the restlessness that sits under trinity's skin sometimes.

'i'm always so fucking tired,' trinity continues, 'and i didn't want to deal with it anymore.'

'that makes sense.'

'plus, so many men were hitting on me lately.' trinity pulls a face of genuine disdain. 'disgusting.'

victoria knows that there's more to it than annoyance for trinity — there's an always lingering fear and also deep, deep anger. but for tonight, she doesn't think they need to talk about those things, not when trinity is warm and happy and begged for victoria's touch earlier. not when they'd eaten a good dinner and split a bottle of wine. not when they both have the day off tomorrow, with plans to go to brunch and a new movie they'd both wanted to see at trinity's favorite theater in the east end.

'i mean, i have a personal investment in men not hitting on you,' victoria says, happy when trinity smiles. 'but also, objectively gross.'

'do you actually like it?'

for all of trinity's bravado — generally fair, victoria will admit; she's an exceedingly competent person at most things, even if she is emotionally kind of an idiot — she really does care what the people she holds close think of her. she cares what victoria thinks of her.

'oh my god, are you kidding?' victoria says. 'honestly i was so distracted all day. you're distracting most of the time, even when you're annoying me, but, like, watching you handle that MVC looking so good and so gay? it was a lot. i know dr. al talked you through the procedure and i was supposed to be paying attention to that part, but i don't think i learned anything.'

trinity laughs, clearly pleased. 'i'll be sure to be on my best behavior when your mom is consulting.'

victoria groans. 'an even worse prospect.'

'well, in my opinion, i think she should be proud of you for dating a brilliant, talented, politically responsible, smoking hot queer physician.'

'you forgot humble.'

'ah yes, my greatest quality. how could i leave that out?'

in victoria's defense, she is blissed the fuck out, playing with trinity's bangs that are currently falling into her eyes again. it's tragically distracting already. but she eventually realizes: 'dating?'

trinity freezes, her easy posture stiffening, her lazy, happy expression immediately changing to a furrowed brow, a frown.

'it's okay if you didn't mean it like that.'

'what?' trinity asks. 'i — i've been taking you out on dates.' she lets out a worried breath; victoria wants to soothe it away but she gives trinity the space to panic just a little more. 'you have been taking me out on dates.'

'yeah,' victoria agrees. 'i just didn't know if we were, like, official or whatever.'

trinity swallows. victoria is suddenly full of jitters too, her hands sweating, her heart pounding. it shouldn't be so hard — she's been having fun with trinity, who is smart and passionate and sexy and silly and really sad — to say the most important things when she's nervous trinity will lash out or shrink away.

'i haven't been seeing other people,' trinity says. 'i would've told you, if i was.'

'me too.'

'i'm not — i'm not good at this,' trinity says. 'things are… hard for me, sometimes.'

'i know.' victoria slides her hand to trinity's cheek and runs her thumb along it.

trinity sighs. 'my mental health is…' she gestures broadly, which almost makes victoria laugh. 'really bad.'

'i know,' victoria says, and she does know: she's been with trinity during a few scary episodes of depersonalization and derealization where she sits stiller than victoria would've thought possible, her hands clenched desperately for hours; she can't sleep through the night; occasionally she drinks and smokes way more than she should; she still hurts herself on the worst days. but those are fewer and farther between as time goes on, and she reaches out more — to victoria, to dennis, to her therapist too. 'plus, you're working on it.'

'yeah. i guess.'

'you are. i know you are.'

trinity's eyes start to fill with tears. 'i felt so sexy like two minutes ago,' she whines.

victoria does laugh now, but it's not mean. she wipes trinity's tears with her thumb gently; her eyes are so green. 'you're still very sexy, don't worry.'

trinity sniffles, and victoria waits a few seconds before she laughs too. 'annoyingly, i like you.'

'horrible fate for you.'

'well, you like me.'

'even worse fate,' victoria says, but it's clear to both of them from the way her voice gets gentle that she thinks the opposite.

'i know i get mean when i'm scared,' trinity says. 'i don't want to hurt you.'

'you will,' victoria says. 'and i'll hurt you too. we're people. it happens.'

trinity bites the inside of her cheek, a habit she has when she wants to argue but holds back. 'you really want to date me?'

'yeah.'

trinity absorbs it for a few seconds and starts to soften. then she grins and victoria knows it's all over. 'i knew this haircut would do numbers.'

'you're so stupid.'

trinity just laughs and leans forward to kiss victoria — so sweetly it makes her head spin a little. it's easy to kiss her, just like it was the first time, warm and fun and beautiful. they kiss until trinity yawns and apologizes and victoria teases her a little but not too much. they settle like they have before, trinity tucking herself into victoria in a way she would definitely never admit she likes. victoria rests her forehead against the space between trinity's shoulder blades, kisses the skin above her spine just once — there's some intimacy there, with her neck being exposed now, that small vulnerability in the moonlight. sometimes it drives her crazy, how each time she learns something about trinity she just wants to know everything. she wants to know more than the things that have hurt her; she wants to know the name of trinity's childhood dog and the games she played with her siblings growing up and the first cd she bought. trinity probably needs more time to accept that victoria is filled, overwhelmingly so sometimes, with the desire to comfort her, to protect her, to be by her side while she heals. maybe she'll say it one day; maybe trinity will be ready to believe it.