Chapter Text
“I don’t understand why we’re not in there busting some heads right now,” Sameen Shaw grumbled as she quickly glanced both ways before crossing the street. She had been watching the building she was walking towards for nearly an hour now and was growing bored. Which didn’t help the minor detail that she was already agitated by the fact that they were working this number to begin with. “If these guys are really dangerous enough to warrant an all hands on deck situation, then Root should have backup with her inside the building.”
“Just stick to the plan, Shaw,” John Reese instructed her.
“Relax, Sweetie,” Root attempted to soothe her over the comms. “She called all of us in because once this little meet and greet is over we’re going to have to track multiple targets.” Shaw could hear the clacking of keys in the background, “And she needed me to work my magic on these relics of a forgotten era.” Root snorted, “Pretty sure these computers went to college when I did.”
“You didn’t go to college.”
“I took a tour once.”
“Hijacked a dorm room to hide your hacking,” Reese added.
“That was fun,” Root agreed.
Shaw switched her ear piece to their private channel, “Root.”
“What?” The other woman breezily replied. “It was.”
“I don’t want to even know.”
“No, it’s actually a great story…”
“Not the time.”
“But I was very clever,” Root argued. Her voice dropped to a purr, “And I think you’ll agree once you hear it, oh so sexy.”
“Root, can you possibly save story time for some occasion when you’re not alone in a building with a bunch of suspected bad guys?”
“Trust me, Sweetie. I can multitask. Besides, I’m almost done up here and our little lambs are still having their tea party downstairs…”
“Exactly, lambs plural. You’re outnumbered in there.”
“You really think I can’t take these idiots?” Root’s pout was clear in her voice even if Shaw couldn’t see it, “I’m hurt, Sam.”
“Any idiot can get lucky,” Shaw countered. “Pretty sure that’s how Lionel ended up with a kid.”
“Hey,” The detective’s voice filled the line. “Don’t come at me just because your lady friend is too stubborn to take in some back up.” He was watching the front of the building in an unmarked car.
Root gasped in mock affront, “Stubborn?”
“More importantly,” Shaw countered, “Lady friend?”
“Lionel, she specifically told me that I’m the only one required to be in the building,” Root scolded. Maybe the annoyed tone wasn’t all an act? “And I think we all know that she knows better than anyone.”
“I do believe we could argue that point, Ms. Groves.”
“Great, gang’s all here,” Shaw grumbled. “And why aren’t you the one inside doing the hands on hacking, Finch?”
Before he could reply Fusco chimed in again, “If you didn’t want us to comment on it, then why aren’t you yelling at the old lady on a private channel?”
Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, “I thought I was.” Damn machine must have switched lines on them again. “And old lady? Are you trying to fulfill every TV cop stereotype tonight?”
“Pretty sure I saw a box of doughnuts on the passenger seat when I did a perimeter check earlier.”
“Should we really be encouraging Ms. Shaw’s outbursts, Mr. Reese?”
“Just sharing intel, Finch.”
Shaw made a quick left and walked down an alley to the van where Reese and Finch were stationed. The back door was open, Reese sitting on the bumper while further in Shaw could just make out Finch typing away in the dim light of a laptop screen. She still didn’t understand why she and Root needed to be here if Finch was doing his computer thing on site too.
“Shouldn’t you be at your post, Ms. Shaw?” Finch turned to raise an eyebrow at her. “If you’re that concerned about Ms. Groves’ security…”
“I can see the backdoor from here and that bike can go from zero to sixty before you can blink,” Shaw replied. “But a ride that sexy also attracts attention, better that if I get noticed it’s getting on the thing rather than sitting on it staring at our mark like an idiot.”
“If it’s that problematic why did you opt to bring it to begin with?”
“Finch,” Reese, ever the alert soldier, tried to warn him off this dangerous line of inquiry. “Maybe don’t…”
“Maybe,” Shaw interrupted, “Because I wasn’t planning on working a number tonight.”
“Which is my fault by the way,” Root chimed in. “I had a lovely evening planned but then I answered the phone when Harry called and torpedoed date night.”
Reese turned to grin at Shaw. “Shaw agreed to date night?”
She held up a finger in warning. The thin ice he was standing on was about to crack courtesy of her fist, if he didn’t wipe that smug expression from his face. “Shaw agreed to burgers and sex on the back of a motorcycle on her night off, because Shaw doesn’t date.” They hadn’t even gotten to the burger portion of that plan before Root’s phone had begun to ring.
“Could have fooled me,” Fusco mumbled.
Shaw didn’t catch the little aside as she was already working up an indignant head of steam. “Shaw was promised one godforsaken night off after three weeks of non-stop numbers.” Three weeks of stakeouts and undercover hells, and when she did get to go back to the apartment, cracking a beer and crashing into bed immediately after draining it in two gulps. Three weeks without a moment to catch a break. And the two weeks before that when Root had been out of the country. But who was counting?
Wait, Shaw, Shaw was counting. “But no, apparently the three stooges can’t handle one tiny number on their own.”
“You’re not the only one who has a life outside of this circus,” Fusco began to complain.
“Shut it, Curly.”
Finch sighed. “I am sorry we interrupted your evening, Ms. Shaw.” And he actually meant it. The fact of the matter was that while they were all a little exhausted by the increase in numbers lately, the ladies in their company had worked more than their fair share of them. If the task hadn’t required someone crawling through several yards of air ducts to reach the computers they needed to access, he never would have contacted Ms. Groves. But it did and so he had. He’d regret it even without Ms. Shaw’s angry commentary. He knew they needed a break. “Truly.”
“Don’t be sorry, Finch,” She growled as she leaned into the back of the van to glare at him. “Be better! Or find someone else.”
“Perhaps, we can look into recruiting more assets…”
“Oh you mean like the three other teams HAL already has in play?” She and Root had sort of stumbled into that information a few weeks ago. “None of which either of you have bothered to call before this point?” Just the thought of them made Shaw’s gun hand twitch. Both Finch and Reese caught the move. Reese stood up while Finch inched towards the front of the van to put some additional distance between him and Shaw. “You mean assets like them, Harold?”
Reese’s eyes narrowed as what she was saying clicked, “There are other…”
“Oh yeah,” Shaw nodded. “Harold never bothers to call them though. Maybe he and his robo-kid are keeping them in reserve for when we get put down. Though he didn’t call when you all thought I had bit it.” Apparently, she was still holding some rage about the whole thing.
Finch choked, “They were established after that unfortunate time.”
“Oh you want to know about unfortunate, let me…”
“Sweetie,” Root cut the threat off. “She promises she’ll leave us alone for an entire weekend and will call in Team Beta to back up the boys if you calm down.” She chuckled, “Harry’s heart rate is spiking. You’re scaring him.”
Shaw was sure she was. Finch wasn’t an idiot. At least not when it came to his own survival. Shaw would bet those fight or flight instincts were raging right about now. But, “How do you know that?”
“He’s wearing a Fitbit.”
“Seriously?” She couldn’t help but snort.
Finch cleared his throat. “I do a great deal of sitting. Being sedentary can kill someone same as smoking or drinking.”
“Or anything fun,” Fusco chimed in.
“And it’s only networked to The Machine.”
“Nothing wrong with a little personal TLC,” Root replied. “Is everyone sufficiently calmed down now?”
“I don’t know, what does the Fitbit say?” Shaw huffed. After a beat she added, “I want a four-day weekend.” She backed away from the van and crossed her arms over her chest. “And I want all that stuff you just said in writing.”
Reese shook his head, “It’s not like The Machine can sign a sworn statement, Shaw.”
“No, but I can shove whatever it prints out down Finch’s throat if he calls us this weekend.” She saw him gulp in the corner of her eye. She grinned. Then Shaw looked up at the traffic camera that conveniently pointed down this particular alleyway. “Also tell Harper if she gets shot again to feel free to show up at Reese’s door.”
“Harper Rose?”
“Yeah, try to keep up John.” She kicked the side of the van just to rattle Finch. She smirked when the resulting bang did indeed cause the man to jolt forward in his seat. “And did you two really have to steal the ugliest van this side of 1973?” The van in question was from a now-defunct florist and its paint job loudly reflected its former owner’s profession. A bright blue base coat was covered in an assortment of neon-hued, stylized gerbera daisies. “Damn thing looks like the Mystery Machine’s evil twin.”
“Did you ever consider how we’re sort of like the gang from Scooby Doo?” Root asked, her voice was slightly muffled, like she had something in her teeth.
Shaw really did not want to know. “No, because no one outside of twisted little teen dramas actually does that.” She scowled. “Are you high? Did someone slip you something?”
“What?” Root gasped. “No, why would you say that?”
“Because the last time you went on about cartoon characters you were tripping balls in a sewer and it was Ninja Turtles,” Shaw elaborated for the group. Finch let out a rather undignified snort. Even Reese grinned at that comment. She wasn’t sure if Fusco was choking or laughing though.
“I have no idea what you are referring to, Sameen,” Root scoffed. Though by her tone, it was clear she knew exactly what Shaw was referring to. “You have quite the imagination. Are you sure you’re not high?”
“Uh huh,” Shaw deadpanned. “Are you sure your favorite Go-Bot didn’t record that little interlude?”
“Ladies, is this really the best use of our secure channels?” Finch meekly attempted to chastise them.
“What else are the kids supposed to do while they wait, Harry?”
“Something…not…this…” He replied at a loss for better ideas.
“No, no this is good,” Root countered. “It helps me focus.”
Shaw rolled her eyes, “Blathering on about nothing, suddenly helps you focus?”
“Just go with it, Sweetie.”
“No way in hell.”
Root, as always, simply charged forward against any resistance to her brilliant plan. “Well, for starters, I'm obviously Daphne.”
Shaw looked at a smirking Reese. The tables seemed to have turned from them making fun of Root to Root annoying Shaw again. John was enjoying it far too much already. She was going to get all of them for this. “Obviously?”
Root’s breathy chuckle was clear, “Of course, Sweetie. And obviously Bear is our Scooby.”
“Bear is ten times the dog that annoying mutt is.” Was Scooby fucking Doo scuba certified? Did he speak Dutch? Could he detect drugs? Okay reasonably she figured he was probably all over that last one, what with all the snacking and hanging out in a van with a bunch of hippies. But still, Bear was the better dog by a mile.
“Who freaking finds Scooby Doo annoying?” Fusco muttered. “Seriously, have you ever done anything normal in your miserable life, Shaw?”
“Your mom.”
“Did you just your mom me?” He sputtered. “What are you twelve?”
“Who was the one defending Scooby Doo’s honor just now?”
“Children,” Reese chuckled. He looked back over his shoulder at Finch who just shook his head at the lot of them.
Root, meanwhile just kept on as if no one else had commented, “Lurch is Shaggy.”
“Not Fred?” Lionel questioned. Shaw couldn’t believe he was actually encouraging this lunacy by asking questions.
“Sameen is Fred.”
“Great,” Shaw grumbled. “I'm an idiot in an ascot.”
“The other chick was Velma.”
“Why must everything conform to your backward gender roles, Lionel?" Root scoffed, "Besides, Harry is Velma."
Shaw genuinely laughed at Finch's disgusted face. It was just that funny. "Why must you include me in this at all, Ms. Groves?"
“Maybe because you still insist on calling her Ms. Groves,” Shaw muttered under her breath.
"We're all a part of the team, Harry."
"Oh yeah, Nutella?” Fusco challenged, “Then who am I?" Seemed like they had run out of characters already. If Cuckoo Clock called him Don Knotts…
"That annoying little boy in the series with the wizard in the crystal ball."
“What? How do you figure?”
Reese chuckled, "Went with the deep cut on that one, Root."
Shaw scowled at him, "You actually know what she's talking about?"
Reese nodded, "So does Lionel judging by his tone."
“Damn right I do and she’s wrong!”
"Cheer up Detective," Harold replied not looking away from his computer. "She could have anointed you Scrappy."
Shaw’s head whipped around so fast Reese was surprised she didn’t snap a vertebra. “Wait, you know Scooby Doo?”
“I was a child once, Ms. Shaw.”
“Funny, I was sure you popped out of the womb in a little suit with a laptop.”
“Nice one,” Fusco chuckled.
“What Shaw is trying to say is that it seems a little bit before your time,” Reese tried to play peacemaker given the particularly unamused expression on Finch’s face.
Of course, Shaw didn’t appreciate it. “Okay, John is the one implying you’re old. All I was saying is that typically you have a stick in your…”
“Alright kids,” Root cut in. “I’m finished in here. You should be receiving the upload now, Harry.”
“And the party?” Shaw asked snapping back to business mode.
“Still swinging,” Root replied. “I’ll meet you on the street in five. She says there’s no need for me to stay in the building.”
“Don’t make sense,” Fusco idly muttered. “Maybelline is the one who hangs out with the dog and eats like she's stoned all the time. Seriously, have you seen her demolish a pizza? She should be Shaggy.”
“What doesn’t make sense is how invested you are in this stupid ass conversation, Lionel.”
“Shaggy and Daphne never had that undeniable chemistry that Sameen and I share,” Root replied, her words had an odd echo. She was probably back in the vents. “And it's my analogy so if I say she's Fred, she's Fred.”
“If it's based on Sapphic shenanigans, then I still say she should be Daphne and you should be Velma.”
Shaw mouthed Sapphic Shenanigans like it was the vilest of curses.
“Does Harry really strike you as a Fred or a Shaggy?”
“Well, there’s the ascot,” Fusco mused.
“Why does Harry have to be involved in this topic at all?” Finch interjected.
“Is anyone else concerned that Finch has started referring to himself in the third person? That's basically borderline super villain stuff.” The guy already had an all seeing super computer. Was a cat and a volcano lair really that far behind? Shaw thought about it for a moment. Beretta was sort of like the team cat, even though he mostly lived with Root and Shaw. So basically Finch really was this close to monologue-ing over an active volcano. They should probably be concerned.
“Weren’t you telling us what Shaw would and wouldn’t do in relation to date nights earlier, Ms. Shaw?”
Reese snapped his fingers, “Vincent Price.”
“Did you just have an aneurysm or something?”
“The series with the annoying kid,” Reese explained. “Vincent Price was in it. That could be Finch.”
Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. She was surrounded by insanity, or was it stupidity? Reese had a moronic little grin on his face like he’d really accomplished something with that mental leap. Both, she decided with a nod. Definitely both.
“Hmm powerful, disembodied voice? Gives out cryptic orders?” Fusco clicked his tongue, because of course he knew what Reese was talking about. “Sounds more like the Magic 8 Ball.”
Thriller started to play softly in their ear pieces.
Shaw groaned. “Fabulous, you've sucked Skynet into this nonsense now too.”