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"Do you?"
Root presses harder.
"I thought you liked it this way."
She was pretty sure she read her correctly, so even though she's prepared to be wrong and genuinely checking in, there's more than a subtle note of teasing to her delivery. She knows Shaw is twice as strong as her and could flip her over any time.
Root presses harder.
"I thought you liked it this way."
She was pretty sure she read her correctly, so even though she's prepared to be wrong and genuinely checking in, there's more than a subtle note of teasing to her delivery. She knows Shaw is twice as strong as her and could flip her over any time.
"Sure, I love my ribs cracked and bruised." But she hears the genuine question underneath the teasing, so she adds, "You're fine. Might kick you off by accident in my sleep, though."
She generally prefers to sleep with her arms free and her frontal visibility unencumbered, but it's a lot easier to throw weight off her back in an emergency situation, so her conscious self is unbothered. Still, that doesn't necessarily mean that her unconscious self will agree.
She generally prefers to sleep with her arms free and her frontal visibility unencumbered, but it's a lot easier to throw weight off her back in an emergency situation, so her conscious self is unbothered. Still, that doesn't necessarily mean that her unconscious self will agree.
She relents nonetheless, tugging them back to their original position with her as the big spoon. Something in her is calming, settling... a coiled-up part of her easing slowly into relaxation. Root isn't hypervigilant but she is normally vigilant, and it's been a wild few days preceded by immense stress.
"Fun later. I want you well-rested and awake when I pin you down."
It's flirtatious, teasing, but she's well aware they haven't crossed that line yet for real and she isn't taking it for granted. She presses her nose into Shaw's hair, eyes closing, but refrains from kissing.
When or if that moment happens, she's not going to waste it.
"Fun later. I want you well-rested and awake when I pin you down."
It's flirtatious, teasing, but she's well aware they haven't crossed that line yet for real and she isn't taking it for granted. She presses her nose into Shaw's hair, eyes closing, but refrains from kissing.
When or if that moment happens, she's not going to waste it.
"Nowhere else I'd rather be," she whispers back, settling again against the cold ground and feeling Shaw warm and comfortable in her arms.
Shaw goes silent and still for a long time, after that: she twitches and shifts a little occasionally, but not in the way of someone who's truly uncomfortable. Her breathing is steady, like a sleeper's.
"I think there's something wrong with me," she says after a good half-hour has passed. She swallows. "Even more wrong with me than before, I mean. I'm being... changed."
"I think there's something wrong with me," she says after a good half-hour has passed. She swallows. "Even more wrong with me than before, I mean. I'm being... changed."
Root's already drifted into dozing, exhausted and relieved; it takes a bit for her brain to kick into gear, process what she heard Shaw say. It's only thanks to her habit of sleeping with hair-trigger alertness that lets her catch it.
"Changed how?" she asks simply, waiting for more information before trying to reassure or address the problem.
"Changed how?" she asks simply, waiting for more information before trying to reassure or address the problem.
Even though she's literally just chosen to voice the thought allowed, Shaw still hesitates. The change is still nothing more than a half-formed suspicion, and she's fully aware of how ridiculous this might sound.
"I'm stronger than I should be." Another swallow. "And anger... feels different. Like it's not my anger, but someone else's inside of me."
"I'm stronger than I should be." Another swallow. "And anger... feels different. Like it's not my anger, but someone else's inside of me."
Root's been forced to accept a lot of ridiculous things already, and doubting Shaw isn't high on her list of options in any situation. She shifts, waking up a little more, drawing her arm up to trace her fingertips lightly up and down Shaw's arm where it's exposed on her side. She can be physically reassuring even if verbally she remains in threat-assessment mode.
"Are you worried about what you'll do?"
Stronger is something that can be proven empirically. The anger... is that what's bothering Shaw, or that she's changing at all?
"Are you worried about what you'll do?"
Stronger is something that can be proven empirically. The anger... is that what's bothering Shaw, or that she's changing at all?
And that's the thing: some of this change should be a good thing. Shaw, already in excellent shape even before she got here, has also been noticing a natural increase in her endurance levels and muscle tone, and the type of exercise she's been getting here is a very different sort from the type she'd gotten during soldier work. That's fine. That's great, in fact. But this is different.
She rolls over in Root's arms, expression dead serious as she faces her.
"If there's something inside me, how long until there's nothing left of me at all?"
How long until this unnamed thing makes her hurt people?
She rolls over in Root's arms, expression dead serious as she faces her.
"If there's something inside me, how long until there's nothing left of me at all?"
How long until this unnamed thing makes her hurt people?
It's a legitimate question, and Root isn't going to brush it aside. But she can't form her own opinion yet until she learns more, and she's not the type to blindly agree with Shaw's perspective. Her loyalty is clear-eyed, and she likes to know the possible consequences.
"Slow down," she says, equally serious, mind fully jolting to awakeness now. The fire cracks and pops behind them. "Tell me what it's like. Start from the beginning."
She can't begin to handle the problem if she doesn't understand the full scope of what it is, and she guesses Shaw really isn't looking for empty reassurances here.
"Slow down," she says, equally serious, mind fully jolting to awakeness now. The fire cracks and pops behind them. "Tell me what it's like. Start from the beginning."
She can't begin to handle the problem if she doesn't understand the full scope of what it is, and she guesses Shaw really isn't looking for empty reassurances here.
"Anger is the emotion I'm best at. But it's always been..."
She pauses, casting around for the most suitable adjective.
"Cold, hard, tight. I feel it, but it's still small and contained. Easy to control." She shifts restlessly in Root's arms, her brow furrowing. "Lately it feels hotter and bigger, like something burning inside me. It feel like if it got strong enough, I might not be able to control it. I might do things based on what the anger wants, not because of what I want."
The concept is familiar enough: she's well aware of how common it is for people to lash out, to let anger get the best of them, to act rashly because of it and then regret it later. But all the same, the idea of experiencing that herself is both strange and disquieting.
She pauses, casting around for the most suitable adjective.
"Cold, hard, tight. I feel it, but it's still small and contained. Easy to control." She shifts restlessly in Root's arms, her brow furrowing. "Lately it feels hotter and bigger, like something burning inside me. It feel like if it got strong enough, I might not be able to control it. I might do things based on what the anger wants, not because of what I want."
The concept is familiar enough: she's well aware of how common it is for people to lash out, to let anger get the best of them, to act rashly because of it and then regret it later. But all the same, the idea of experiencing that herself is both strange and disquieting.
Maybe this seems obvious to Shaw, but it's new information for Root about how a person very precious to her works, and she holds it close inside. So she does feel anger, if distantly. More like a piece of information than a driving force, and maybe now she's feeling it that way for the first time, a pressure she can't ignore.
Root thinks this over, delicately and tenderly pushes some stray hair out of Shaw's face, tucks it behind the shell of her ear.
"You said I'm your safe place. That you couldn't hurt me. Is that still true?"
She's not looking for reassurance with this, either; she's going somewhere else.
Root thinks this over, delicately and tenderly pushes some stray hair out of Shaw's face, tucks it behind the shell of her ear.
"You said I'm your safe place. That you couldn't hurt me. Is that still true?"
She's not looking for reassurance with this, either; she's going somewhere else.
"Yes."
It's said without hesitation - but since Shaw thinks she knows where she's going, it doesn't come without caveats.
"For now. But, Root-- I don't know if that'll always be true. There were simulations where I pointed a gun at you; where I told you I was going to kill you. I held out for a long, long time. But who's to say they won't get me there eventually?"
Her voice is quiet and controlled, but still tense. The way she mixes up the past and present tenses is the strongest sign of her being worked up.
It's said without hesitation - but since Shaw thinks she knows where she's going, it doesn't come without caveats.
"For now. But, Root-- I don't know if that'll always be true. There were simulations where I pointed a gun at you; where I told you I was going to kill you. I held out for a long, long time. But who's to say they won't get me there eventually?"
Her voice is quiet and controlled, but still tense. The way she mixes up the past and present tenses is the strongest sign of her being worked up.
"Oh, sweetie. I love that you don't want to hurt me."
It's very endearing, honestly. Both of them without speaking on it understand the difference between real harm and kinky fun; even when Shaw shot her in the shoulder early on, Root understood that as a leniency. Shaw's always gone soft on her compared to what she could do. Root, though...
She gently strokes the line of her cheekbone with a single fingertip, gaze piercing and direct and words so sweet it hurts her to speak. This is the most reassuring thing she can think of to say, to answer her real concerns rather than wash them over with platitudes.
"But I can hurt you if I need to. If you point a gun at me, I'm not going to just stand there like a weepy damsel. If I think you're losing control, I'll take care of it. I just need that one moment of hesitation where you're second-guessing whether you'll really take me out."
In a fair fight it's a real toss up who would come out on top, but Root never intends to fight fair. Shaw's skin is so soft against her fingers, hand cupping her jaw.
It's very endearing, honestly. Both of them without speaking on it understand the difference between real harm and kinky fun; even when Shaw shot her in the shoulder early on, Root understood that as a leniency. Shaw's always gone soft on her compared to what she could do. Root, though...
She gently strokes the line of her cheekbone with a single fingertip, gaze piercing and direct and words so sweet it hurts her to speak. This is the most reassuring thing she can think of to say, to answer her real concerns rather than wash them over with platitudes.
"But I can hurt you if I need to. If you point a gun at me, I'm not going to just stand there like a weepy damsel. If I think you're losing control, I'll take care of it. I just need that one moment of hesitation where you're second-guessing whether you'll really take me out."
In a fair fight it's a real toss up who would come out on top, but Root never intends to fight fair. Shaw's skin is so soft against her fingers, hand cupping her jaw.
[ Let's say they're having a post-mission drink together. It's all very civil, sitting down in Carver's boobytrapped version of the subway station, pulled up on scavenged furniture around a scavenged table, bottle of decent but not great whiskey set up with shot glasses. Root is nursing hers rather than shooting -- it's just the glasses they have on hand -- and leaning back with all the leisurely satisfaction of a cat who did what they wanted and ignored all shouts to the contrary.
It was a good mission. They achieved their objectives and they worked well together, and watching Carver and Shaw relax afterwards like they don't have any other post-mission plans makes Root feel like now's the right time. It's not reckless; it's not impulsive.
She's been waiting. ]
So have you two done it yet? [ Maybe they were talking about something else, but now they're not. Root sounds interested, amused; she doesn't assume Shaw shares everything with her, wouldn't expect her to. ] Because I could cut this sexual tension with a knife.
It was a good mission. They achieved their objectives and they worked well together, and watching Carver and Shaw relax afterwards like they don't have any other post-mission plans makes Root feel like now's the right time. It's not reckless; it's not impulsive.
She's been waiting. ]
So have you two done it yet? [ Maybe they were talking about something else, but now they're not. Root sounds interested, amused; she doesn't assume Shaw shares everything with her, wouldn't expect her to. ] Because I could cut this sexual tension with a knife.
Edited 2025-05-13 22:14 (UTC)
[ He spent too much time in the infantry to spit his drink out when Root says that, but it sure does snap the conversation to a halt. They were just shooting the shit, not talking about anything important. Post-op comedown, the sort of thing he'd do with Leah and the others after a job back home. Or a raid after the world ended. He's nursing some bruises but nothing serious, nothing worth remembering once they fade. The alcohol's welcome, a reward for survival. And the company's good.
Little by little, day by day, he's found patterns with all of them. They make sense, this group. He has a place inside it.
Still, Carver's eyebrows go up. He lowers his glass. ]
Thought you two were together, [ he drawls. ]
Little by little, day by day, he's found patterns with all of them. They make sense, this group. He has a place inside it.
Still, Carver's eyebrows go up. He lowers his glass. ]
Thought you two were together, [ he drawls. ]
[Shaw also does not spit-take: she just slooooooowly swivels her head to face Root, a very clear Why are you like this expression on her face.]
We are.
[But she says it like it's an aside; like the fact that they're together is completely irrelevant to the question that's just been posed. Exclusivity is not something that they've ever discussed, or even hinted at discussing, and somewhere along the line that lack of discussion had started to feel like a deliberate choice rather than an oversight. Shaw knows where she stands on the issue (she's capable of exclusivity, especially with someone who keeps her on her toes as much as Root does, but she also doesn't feel the need for it), and she trusts that if Root felt any particular way about it, she would have brought it up by now. So. They're together, and they'd still be just as together even if Shaw had fucked Carver.
Which she very emphatically has not.]
Sorry about her. I guess she's not holding the social skills ball today.
We are.
[But she says it like it's an aside; like the fact that they're together is completely irrelevant to the question that's just been posed. Exclusivity is not something that they've ever discussed, or even hinted at discussing, and somewhere along the line that lack of discussion had started to feel like a deliberate choice rather than an oversight. Shaw knows where she stands on the issue (she's capable of exclusivity, especially with someone who keeps her on her toes as much as Root does, but she also doesn't feel the need for it), and she trusts that if Root felt any particular way about it, she would have brought it up by now. So. They're together, and they'd still be just as together even if Shaw had fucked Carver.
Which she very emphatically has not.]
Sorry about her. I guess she's not holding the social skills ball today.
Don't be a stick in the mud, you know that ball is in my permanent possession.
[ There's a bit of a drawl to her tone, though, and a smirk to her lips. She knows exactly what she's doing; it's not lack of social skills at play here. And true to Shaw's thinking, the omission on discussing exclusivity was because Root didn't care in the slightest. She's not easily threatened that way. Sex is just an expression of physicality, and ultimately physical forms are ephemeral, easily betrayed, scarcely tangible. Nothing that truly matters happens in the physical realm; it's just for fun.
Case in point, she can tell there's something here, and maybe it's not happening in deference to her, which just means she's in the best possible position to stir up trouble. And give Shaw something she wants at she same time -- win/win. ]
I'll take that as a no. [ She slings one leg over the other, casual. ] Seems like a missed opportunity to me.
[ There's a bit of a drawl to her tone, though, and a smirk to her lips. She knows exactly what she's doing; it's not lack of social skills at play here. And true to Shaw's thinking, the omission on discussing exclusivity was because Root didn't care in the slightest. She's not easily threatened that way. Sex is just an expression of physicality, and ultimately physical forms are ephemeral, easily betrayed, scarcely tangible. Nothing that truly matters happens in the physical realm; it's just for fun.
Case in point, she can tell there's something here, and maybe it's not happening in deference to her, which just means she's in the best possible position to stir up trouble. And give Shaw something she wants at she same time -- win/win. ]
I'll take that as a no. [ She slings one leg over the other, casual. ] Seems like a missed opportunity to me.
[ Huh. Okay, then.
Carver considers that for a moment and then just finishes his drink with a philosophical shrug. It's not his business what they do on their off hours, not really, not unless it impacts unit cohesion. And even if it did, he's got no standing to call them on it. He looked the other way sometimes when some of the other Reapers paired off in the quieter moments. Pope wouldn't have liked it, but they were lonely, and the world was gone.
Shit happens. You survive how you can. ]
Don't make a habit of hooking up with my teammates, [ he points out softly. He outranked most of the Reapers; it wouldn't have been fair back home. ]
Carver considers that for a moment and then just finishes his drink with a philosophical shrug. It's not his business what they do on their off hours, not really, not unless it impacts unit cohesion. And even if it did, he's got no standing to call them on it. He looked the other way sometimes when some of the other Reapers paired off in the quieter moments. Pope wouldn't have liked it, but they were lonely, and the world was gone.
Shit happens. You survive how you can. ]
Don't make a habit of hooking up with my teammates, [ he points out softly. He outranked most of the Reapers; it wouldn't have been fair back home. ]
See?
[Shaw sprawls out a leg to nudge Root's knee with her own.]
He's not interested.
[Which means she's just going to keep having to oogle at his muscles when he wears t-shirts and salivate over his handling of weaponry all by her lonesome. That's fine!]
[Shaw sprawls out a leg to nudge Root's knee with her own.]
He's not interested.
[Which means she's just going to keep having to oogle at his muscles when he wears t-shirts and salivate over his handling of weaponry all by her lonesome. That's fine!]
[ Even with just this much, she's accomplished the goal of putting it on the table, making sure her existence and devotion to Shaw isn't a barrier to the two of them having sex. But Root will find an inch and push it to a full mile. ]
Please, Sameen. That's not what he said. [ There's a scolding tone, like she expects better from Shaw. This is why she holds the social skills ball in her permanent possession, honestly. ]
He's looking for reassurance that we won't make it weird. Don't worry, Brandon. [ She switches to meeting Carver's eyes on a dime, gaze utterly sincere and almost doting. ] We don't do this normally, either, but Shaw thinks you're really, really hot.
[ She's lucky Root cares about her enough to arrange her hookups. This isn't a service she offers to anyone else. ]
Please, Sameen. That's not what he said. [ There's a scolding tone, like she expects better from Shaw. This is why she holds the social skills ball in her permanent possession, honestly. ]
He's looking for reassurance that we won't make it weird. Don't worry, Brandon. [ She switches to meeting Carver's eyes on a dime, gaze utterly sincere and almost doting. ] We don't do this normally, either, but Shaw thinks you're really, really hot.
[ She's lucky Root cares about her enough to arrange her hookups. This isn't a service she offers to anyone else. ]
Carver, [ he corrects, rubbing his thumb along the rim of his glass. It's not said with malice, just a statement of fact. Only Leah ever calls him Brandon these days, a line he doesn't care to cross no matter how much he likes Shaw and Root. They make sense to him in a way the rest of this place often doesn't. And that, Carver knows, is a precious thing.
Still.
He tilts his head a little, watching both of them curiously. Wondering if this is Root playing a game just for the Hell of it, tossing out an offer to spin them both up just so she can laugh at the resulting chaos. If there is, indeed, resulting chaos.
They're both beautiful, Carver acknowledges. He has eyes. But it's rare that he allows himself to look at other people that way, for any reason. Why risk it, when so often strangers simply become targets?
These two haven't yet. They are, he realizes suddenly, the closest thing he has to friends right now.
He hums a little. Flicking his nail against the glass. ]
I am very pretty, [ he agrees solemnly. All these things are true. ]
Still.
He tilts his head a little, watching both of them curiously. Wondering if this is Root playing a game just for the Hell of it, tossing out an offer to spin them both up just so she can laugh at the resulting chaos. If there is, indeed, resulting chaos.
They're both beautiful, Carver acknowledges. He has eyes. But it's rare that he allows himself to look at other people that way, for any reason. Why risk it, when so often strangers simply become targets?
These two haven't yet. They are, he realizes suddenly, the closest thing he has to friends right now.
He hums a little. Flicking his nail against the glass. ]
I am very pretty, [ he agrees solemnly. All these things are true. ]
[Shaw, who has up to this point been shooting Root the most exasperated series of looks, lolls her head to the side to eye Carver. Up and down. Slowly. As you do.]
You're too rugged to be pretty. I think you're hot. The right terminology is important.
[And then she goes back to glaring at Root. Just glaring, it should be noted; there are zero attempts made to actually do anything to stop this line of conversation.]
You're too rugged to be pretty. I think you're hot. The right terminology is important.
[And then she goes back to glaring at Root. Just glaring, it should be noted; there are zero attempts made to actually do anything to stop this line of conversation.]
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