Karaoke was on every Thursday night at The Peach, and she tried to make it as often as she could. Huckleberry had joined a couple of times but now politely declined given it wasn't exactly his crowd (and after he'd had to tell more than one woman they were barking up the wrong tree. Trinity had taken it as a compliment on the way she'd improved his dress sense. Dennis had decided he would stop listening to her fashion advice).

Trinity had spotted Parker Ellis here twice. Both times before they'd given each other the nod, turning back to their respective conversations. They interacted occasionally at work, Parker too night-shift-pilled to have anything more drawn out than the odd flirty joke, or swapping candy bars in times of crisis. But Trinity had eyes. And Parker was damn beautiful to look at.

Tonight Parker seemed to be alone, which was a first. She leaned against the bar, watching Trinity sing with sharp eyes.

"It's not easy, I wanna feel something different for once."

The crowd was always good-natured but they seemed eager tonight. Some people sang along through the verse. Others raised their hands, pointing along to the rhythm. Parker stayed still, gaze unmoving.

Trinity leaned into the breathy chorus. "I would give you my body, but I'm not sure that you want me, am I sure that you want me?"

The Pittsburgh lesbians whooped as she played to the crowd, sliding her hand along the microphone stand.

"Oh you're not alright, I ruined your night, well honey that's what I'm good at."

Trinity winked at a woman in the front row. Not her type but she always enjoyed when she could make a pretty girl blush. The pink cheeks made her bolder as she slid back to the chorus, smooth and confident, hips swaying.

"I would give you my body, but I'm not sure that you want me, am I sure that you want me?"

She sank into the feeling, letting the electricity embrace her, setting her skin alight. She couldn't help but glance back over at Parker. She was still staring. Her lips were quirked upwards, something burning and fiery in her eyes.

Oh and Trinity never backed down from a challenge. She maintained eye contact as the tempo slowed, dragging the prechorus into something more sultry than the original track warranted.

"And there's somebody I know I'm bad for, and I can't look away. I'm ready to see your face."

Parker picked up her beer and raised it in small salute.

Trinity grinned, wide and victorious, jumping back into the faster chorus. She finished the song to a cheering crowd. She was breathless as she handed the microphone over to the next singer, before making her way over to the bar.

Parker gave her a slow clap as she approached. It would have been condescending if not for the reluctantly impressed expression she wore. "So you've got pipes. Didn't see that coming."

Trinity tried to hide how pleased the compliment made her. "I'm full of surprises."

"Oh, don't I know it, REBOA." She chuckled at Trinity's grimace. "Yeah, old man Abbott couldn't shut up about that one."

Trinity did not want to think about work when she felt this good. "What are you going to sing?"

"I don't sing in front of crowds."

"Don't tell me you have stage fright."

"Nah." She took a sip of her beer and Trinity knew she'd been clocked staring at the way her tongue poked out. "When it comes to singing I prefer to be the muse."

Trinity groaned. "I hope you realise how corny that sounded."

Parker laughed. "It's not corny if it's true. I saw how you switched it up when you looked at me."

Her cheeks grew warm. She had to fight fire with fire. "I know you did. You were watching me so desperately, I had to give you something to enjoy."

"And you delivered."

Parker placed her beer on the bar and took a step closer, right into Trinity's personal space. This close she could see the flecks of amber in Parker's eyes, the way her eyelids became heavy as she glanced down at Trinity's lips.

Trinity's hand fell to the thick belt buckle at Parker's waist. Her fingertips gripped the metal, just brushing against the bottom of Parkers shirt. "Are you after a repeat performance, Dr Ellis?"

"Santos." Parker leaned closer. Her breath was hot against Trinity's lips. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble if you're not careful."

"I didn't know you'd changed your name to 'Trouble'."

"You're unbelievable."

Parker kissed her.

It was heated immediately, Parker's lips pressing into her with a controlled hunger that Trinity instantly reciprocated. She tugged at her belt buckle, bringing their hips together, and Parker let out a surprised grunt. Trinity used that to her advantage, slipping her tongue into her mouth.

Parker gripped her hip, licking into her, smooth and sure, and Trinity's knees threatened to buckle. Parker's mouth was so soft, and the sudden drag of her teeth across Trinity's lower lip had her moaning into her mouth.

Trinity pulled away with a gasp. "Fuck."

Parker hummed in agreement, hand sliding up along Trinity's side. Her pupils were dilated, taking in the ruined swell of Trinity's lips.

"You want to get out of here?"

Trinity smirked at her, grip still firm on her waist. "You liked my singing so much you want a private performance?"

Parker let out an amused exhale, shaking her head. "I should have known you were a brat."

Parker's eyes zeroed in on the way Trinity shuddered. Trinity tried not to blush at her obvious tell.

Trinity knows how this goes, when just before New Year’s she tentatively raises the idea to Yolanda of watching some fireworks together.

Can feel the itching familiarity of it all crawling over her skin. She tries to remind herself that it’s different now, because she and Yolanda are in a well defined relationship of 3 months. One where they try their best to not shut each other when they feel uncomfortable feelings. One where they actually communicate.

So Trinity asks, as causally as she can manage. They’re both working New Year’s Eve, but they should (hopefully) be finished in time to ring in the new year with a kiss and a fireworks display.

She regrets asking the moment the words leave her mouth and she watches Yolanda in the driver’s seat flex her fingers against the steering wheel. She can see the muscle ticking away in her jaw, the same one that goes when she’s assessing a particularly complicated set of injuries in a trauma room.

And Trinity, so scared of the fourth of July making a reappearance in their still new relationship begins to backtrack.

“Don’t worry about it, actually, it doesn’t matter.”

Still Yolanda doesn’t say anything and the pair of them sit in silence for the remainder of the seemingly never ending drive to Yolanda’s after work.

When she finally parks up in her spot and cuts the engine she shows no sign of moving and so Trinity stays still too, seatbelt remaining fastened.

There’s the steady tap, tap, tap of Yolanda’s fingers against the steering wheel. Somewhere outside of the car another car door slams shut.

“I don’t like fireworks.” Yolanda says quietly.

If Trinity had a different lived experience she might laugh at this point, such is the absurdity of Yolanda Garcia not liking fireworks. But Trinity is infinitely familiar with concept of normal things and what outside eyes would consider abnormal reactions.

“Okay.” Trinity nods, and Yolanda keeps her eyes trained out of the windshield so Trinity does the same. “We can do something else then, if we get away from work in time we can probably drive a decent way out of the city to avoid the worst of it. Maybe we can find somewhere cute to stay the night.”

And Trinity wracks her brain for other ways to help, because this Yolanda is new, has only come out in brief flashes usually said into the sleepy darkness of one of their bedrooms.

She’s all too aware of the pressure on her shoulders to not fuck this up, to be supportive without scaring her away, because if there’s one thing Yolanda Garcia is fantastic at, it’s avoiding her emotions.

“You like the fireworks Trin, we can just do something the next evening, have our own celebration for the new year.” Yolanda suggests and Trinity knows the end of that sentence is supposed to sound suggestive but it comes out hollow.

And her first instinct is to panic now, because this all sounds like a gentler repeat of the Fourth a few months ago. Where after that, Yolanda didn’t speak to her for two weeks. It would be so easy for her to tip into that spiral now, to contort herself to fit whatever Yolanda wants to do to avoid this conversation. But she’s promised them both she’d tried to stop doing that.

“I don’t care about the fireworks Yola, if you want to then I’d like to be with you at midnight, and we’ll find something that works for you.”

Trinity can see the barely there flicker of movement as Yolanda glances at her, nods her head and then unbuckles her seatbelt.

“C’mon, that last surgery has wrecked my back and I could do with a bath.” And now the tone is definitely suggestive, slipped back into the self assured Yolanda that she knows so well.

Trinity scrambles out of the car to follow, a happy little pep in her step, because this outcome is so far removed from what happened months ago, and Yolanda is wiggling her fingers back towards Trinity and they head towards the surgeon’s building with their hands interlinked.

Later Trinity is practically boneless in Yolanda’s bed, half asleep with the way Yolanda is tracing patterns across her back.

(They’d both found that sometimes, when Trinity can’t sleep or wakes with a start, that Yolanda’s aimless patterns across her skin can settle her enough to drop off.

Trinity doesn’t remember asking Yolanda to try and she doesn’t remember Yolanda offering either, but now, when they share a bed, more often than not she will fall asleep with Yolanda’s gentle touch on her skin.)

Which is why Trinity thinks it’s terribly unfair when Yolanda speaks during this, and Trinity has to fight against the pleasant haze of sleep to listen, because she wants to listen.

“I don’t like loud noises.” Yolanda says quietly, pauses, waits for Trinity to make a noise for her to continue. And Yolanda’s hand keeps moving up and down across Trinity’s back, like it’s easier if she pretends she’s whispering into the darkness towards her sleeping girlfriend. “I’ve never liked them, ever since I was young. They make me jumpy and irritable and sometimes, it makes me feel like I want to tear my fucking hair out if it would make it stop.”

And Trinity could whir through all of the possible medical reasons for that, although she’s sure it wouldn’t help, that Yolanda would have done it to herself before.

Instead, “Work must be a lot for you sometimes.” Tries to keep it neutral.

A hum of agreement, “It’s why I prefer to work with unconscious patients.” Trinity huffs out a laugh. “I’m usually in the OR enough in any given shift that it’s not too bad, I find it peaceful in there. Besides, when everything is busy I can get caught up in the flow of it all, although I fucking feel it when I get home after shifts like that.”

“I get that,” she gets what Yolanda is saying even if she doesn’t experience it. “So what do you do, about the fireworks and stuff? The Fourth was- it was a lot.”

Trinity can feel the way Yolanda’s hand stills against her, fingers pressing down just a little firmer, and then a stroke of apology before she resumes the steady motions.

“Try to work a double, mostly, someone always wants a day like that off and the surgical floor is pretty well insulated from the noise.” A sharp inhale, and then sounding a little ashamed, “if not I come home and try to make sure I’m asleep before anything gets too bad, if I’m asleep I’ll usually be fine.”

And Trinity snorts with amusement because that much she can believe, Yolanda sleeps like the dead, a gentle tap of playful reprimand against her back in response.

“So we’ll come back here on new year’s eve and I’m sure I can find a way to tire you out.” And it’s a genuine suggestion, despite its playfulness, giving Yolanda an exit ramp from the conversation, certain she must be reaching her capacity for opening herself up tonight.

“No, no, it’s alright baby,” that pet name still thrills Trinity to hear, “I’m not going to sleep through bringing in the new year with you.” Yolanda says, a little more earnest than Trinity was expecting.

“Okay, that’s okay,” shuffles backward so she can be little spoon, delighted in the way Yolanda curls tightly around her. “But I’m just saying, you could if you want to, sleep that is. Maybe we could both start the new year by actually getting enough of it for a change.”

The last thing Trinity remembers is the feel of a smile being pushed against her head.

And when the final day of the year does roll round, Trinity presents Yolanda with a pair of ear plugs she has spent an inordinate amount of time researching.

Yolanda looks a little embarrassed whether from the clear attention Trinity has put in or the fact that they may genuinely be a solution for her.

(Trinity makes a note to circle back to the embarrassment because she gets the feeling undoing that little tendril of thought might take some time.)

But they do at least seem to work, enough for Yolanda to tuck Trinity against her side as the pair watch various pops of colour from the city beyond, courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows in Yolanda’s extremely nice apartment.

(The first time Trinity had visited, back in their situationship, the doorman had refused to let her in because she looked so out of place.)