Chapter Text
Victoria Javadi does not feel very strongly.
It was one of the few things in her life that had remained consistent. In med school, while everyone else spiraled before exams, she’d gone cold and focused. In trauma bays full of blood and shouting, she was steady hands and clipped orders. Even with people—especially with people—she’d never been the type to get flustered. It’s probably something she should talk to psyche about, but it's her normal. Maybe a coping mechanism or maybe it's just the way her brain works.
However,
She did not blush.
She did not stammer.
But Trinity fucking Santos ruined all of that for her
Santos had this infuriating habit of treating boundaries like they were stupud, dumb even. She’d perch on the edge of Javadi’s desk instead of taking the empty chair. She’d bump shoulders in hallways that were wide enough for three people. She’d grin when Javadi snapped at her, then she’d prod and prod and prod and PROD!
And worst of all, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing.
“You’re staring again,” Santos said now, glancing up from the chart in her hands.
“Just making sure you don’t have to repeat your year 2. Al-Hashimi seemed hell bent on making you finish the charts.” Javadi shrugged, trying to play it off–slightly proud of her mind for coming up with a decent excuse instead of being a bumbling idiot.
“Mm.” Santos stepped closer, shoulder brushing Victoria’s arm as she handed over the file. “So that’s a yes, you are.”
Victoria took the chart quickly. Their fingers caught for half a second.
Ridiculous, the way that tiny bit of contact traveled through her like a live wire.
She straightened. “You enjoy being obnoxious.”
“I enjoy bothering you specifically. There’s a difference.”
There it was again—that stupid smirk that makes Victoria feel like she’s being set on fire.
Victoria could feel herself tightening in all the ways she hated. Hyperaware of the room. Of Santos’s perfume. Of the curve of her mouth. Of how close she was standing when there was no reason to be close at all.
She should probably step back.
She should probably shut this down insanely fast.
She should probably stop noticing the way Santos looked at her like she’d already figured something out.
Instead, Victoria said, “You think you’re charming.”
“I know I am.”
“Delusional.”
“Buuut,” Santos said softly as she dragged the word teasingly, leaning in just enough to make Victoria’s pulse jump, “I get you so worked up Crash.”
Victoria hated that she had no immediate comeback.
Hated even more that Santos’s gaze dipped to her mouth for a fraction of a second.
She wasn’t someone who got easily turned on, easily tempted, easily anything. She liked control. The ability to make people listen is something she yearns for.
But Santos needled at every seam until something underneath started to spark.
Annoyance, maybe.
Something worse, maybe.
Victoria set the chart down with deliberate care. “Go bother someone else.”
Santos smiled wider. “No.”
And that single word did more damage than it should have.
Victoria exhaled slowly through her nose.
This was a bad idea.
A terrible one.
She pushes it down and gets back to work.
She sees Santos a few times more throughout her painfully long shift. But Victoria has a skill in dodging and weaving, so she does just that. She successfully gets through the rest of the shift without the other girl harassing her.
That's why clocking out should have fixed the problem.
Her scrubs were off, the fluorescent lights behind her thankfully gone considering they were making her head throb like no tomorrow, the constant chorus of monitors and overhead pages replaced absolute, peaceful, joyous even--silence!. Work was over. Whatever annoying, needling thing existed between them inside hospital walls should have stayed there too.
Victoria should have known better.
She was halfway to her car when heels clicked behind her.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Santos called out mockingly.
Victoria didn’t turn around. “I was hoping.”
“Mean.”
“Persistent.”
“Flirting with me?”
That made her stop.
Slowly, Victoria turned to find Trinity leaning against the concrete pillar beside her car, jacket slung over one shoulder, badge clipped crooked to her waistband like she’d torn it off mid-walk lazily. She looked unfairly good for someone twelve hours into her shift.
“You followed me?” Victoria asked, begrudgingly.
Santos shrugged. “I prefer the phrase caught up to you.”
“You’re impossible.”
Victoria unlocked her car with a sharp click. “Move.”
Instead of moving, Santos stepped into her space.
Not enough to touch.
Enough to matter.
The garage was cool, but Victoria felt warm everywhere Santos’s gaze landed. Face. Mouth. Hands shaking and clenched around her keys.
At work, she could pretend Santos was just a distraction. An irritating coworker with no reasonable respect for personal boundaries.
Out here, with no charts to review and no patients to hide behind, there was only the fact that Trinity Santos looked at her like she wanted to peel every layer of composure right off her.
“You get quieter off the clock,” Santos said.
“I get smarter off the clock.”
“Mm. Debatable.”
Victoria should have gotten in the car.
She should have said goodnight.
She should have remembered every practical reason this was a terrible idea.
Instead, she said, “What do you want?”
Santos tilted her head. “Honest answer?”
“No, lie to me.”
A laugh slipped out of Santos—warm, surprised, and slightly genuine.
Then she stepped closer.
Victoria felt her stomach flip.
Close enough now that Victoria could smell laundry detergent and something citrusy on her skin. Close enough that if either of them leaned in an inch—
“I wanted to see,” Santos said quietly, “if you’re always this tense around me, or if that’s just a work thing.”
Victoria’s pulse kicked hard once.
“I’m not tense.”
Santos’s eyes dropped to the death grip Victoria had on her keys.
“Sure.”
Victoria hated her.
Or wanted her.
Possibly both.
She set the keys on the hood before she bent them in half. “You think everything is about you.”
“No,” Santos said. “Just this.”
And then—because she was reckless, because she was smug, because she knew exactly where to press—she reached up and adjusted the collar of Victoria’s jacket with two slow fingers.
Barely a touch.
It hit like a live current.
Victoria caught her wrist on instinct.
Santos went still.
Neither of them moved.
Victoria’s hand circled warm skin. Santos’s pulse beat fast under her thumb.
Interesting.
“Careful,” Victoria said, voice lower than she meant it to be.
“With you?” Santos asked.
“With yourself.”
“Sounds like a threat.”
“It’s advice.”
Santos’s smile turned softer, smaller, somehow more dangerous than the cocky version. “You gonna let go of me, Javadi?”
Victoria looked at her mouth.
Bad choice.
Very bad.
“I should probably not,” she murmured.
And then, before sense could return, she pulled Santos in and kissed her.
It was supposed to be brief. Just enough to shut her up. Enough to prove a point Victoria herself did not understand.
Instead, Santos made a startled sound and kissed her back hard enough to erase every coherent thought left in Victoria’s head.
Her back hit the car door with a dull thud. Santos’s hands found her waist. Victoria’s fingers slid from wrist to jaw, angling her closer.
So this was what all that poking and provoking had been building toward.
Not an annoyance.
Combustion.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder than was dignified, Santos grinned against her mouth.
“Wow,” she said. “You should ignore your better judgment more often.”
Victoria opened her car door.
“Get in,” she said.
Santos blinked. “Seriously?”
Victoria met her eyes. “Before I come to my senses.”
Santos was in the passenger seat before the sentence finished.
The drive to Victoria’s apartment was eight minutes.
She knew this because she had timed it before.
Tonight, it felt endless.
And somehow not long enough.
The second Santos shut the passenger door, the car became too small. Too warm. Too full of the scent of her shampoo and the quiet energy she carried like static.
Victoria started the engine without looking at her.
Seatbelt clicked.
Good.
Normal.
Manageable.
Then Santos rested a hand on her thigh.
Victoria nearly drove into a concrete pillar.
“What are you doing?” she snapped, jerking the wheel straight.
“Buckling in,” Santos said mildly.
“That is not where seatbelts go.”
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Santos glanced pointedly at the white-knuckled grip Victoria had on the steering wheel.
“You look one inconvenience away from cardiac arrest.”
Victoria pulled out of the garage in tense silence, eyes fixed dead ahead.
The hand remained.
Not squeezing. Not moving much. Just warm and deliberate on the middle of her thigh like it belonged there.
It was absurd how distracting that was.
Victoria had intubated patients under pressure. Sutured lacerations while someone screamed in the next room. Navigated family members, administrators, and surgeons with God complexes.
Yet one smug woman with a lazy hand on her leg had reduced her to this.
She missed a turn signal.
Santos hummed. “You okay there, doctor?”
“Speak less.”
“You kissed me first.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened, painfully. Fuck she needs some sort of relief from this building feeling. She should’ve just drove home alone and got the job done herself so she wouldn’t have to deal with this teasing.
“My brain was going off the hook.” Her hand tenses against the wheel.
“Mm. Felt pretty decisive to me.”
The hand shifted half an inch higher.
Victoria inhaled so sharply it bordered on embarrassing.
“You are trying to kill us.”
“I’m touching your leg.”
“You’re distracting the driver.”
“You seem distractible tonight.”
Victoria stopped at a red light harder than necessary. She turned to glare, prepared with something cutting and efficient.
Then she made the mistake of finding Santos already looking at her.
Hair mussed from the kiss. Mouth a little swollen. Eyes bright with satisfaction.
The words died instantly.
Santos smiled. “There she is.”
“Move your hand.”
“No.”
“Trinity.”
“Victoria.”
That tone. Playful and low and entirely too pleased with herself.
The light turned green. Victoria drove on.
Every block felt like a test of discipline. Every stop sign another opportunity for Santos’s thumb to trace one absent-minded stroke against the fabric of her scrubs.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
It mattered catastrophically.
By the time they pulled into her apartment lot, Victoria was wound so tight she could hear her own pulse.
She threw the car into park.
“Out,” she said.
Santos blinked. “Wow. Rude.”
Victoria unbuckled, turned, and caught Santos by the jaw.
“Out,” she repeated, quieter this time, “before I do something even less responsible in this parking lot.”
Santos grinned like she’d won something.
Then she leaned forward, kissed the corner of Victoria’s mouth once, and whispered, “Lead the way.”
Victoria was going to have to start avoiding her at work.
After tonight though. Not yet.
Victoria made it exactly three steps toward the building before Santos caught up beside her.
“You walk fast when you’re irritated,” Santos said.
“I walk fast when I’m trying not to make bad decisions.”
“Seems like that ship sailed in the parking garage.”
Victoria kept moving, keys already in hand. “You are unbearably pleased with yourself.”
“I got invited over by the hottest woman in the ER. I think I’ve earned it.”
“You were not invited.”
“You told me to get in the car.”
“I made a mistake.”
“Mm.” Santos bumped her shoulder lightly. “You keep making those.”
Victoria should have been annoyed by how effortlessly Santos kept pace with her, how she turned every clipped remark into something flirtatious, and how she seemed immune to intimidation.
Instead, she was acutely aware of their shoulders brushing as they crossed the lot.
On the way Santos stayed close enough to touch.
Of how badly Victoria wanted her to.
She unlocked the building door and held it open.
Santos stepped through, pausing just inside the lobby to look around. “Cute place.”
“It’s a hallway.”
“Still warmer than the hospital.”
Victoria jabbed the elevator button harder than necessary.
The wait was agony.
Small enclosed space. Midnight quiet. Santos beside her with that impossible calm, hands in jacket pockets like she hadn’t spent the last eight minutes dismantling Victoria’s self-control one stupid remark at a time.
The elevator dinged.
They stepped inside.
Victoria hit her floor.
The doors slid shut.
Silence.
Then Santos said, “You’re jaw is doing a tense thing again.”
Victoria stared straight ahead. “What jaw thing?”
“The one where you clench it when you want something.”
“I do not have a jaw thing.”
“You do.” Santos leaned back against the mirrored wall. “You had it when we kissed.”
Victoria’s face heated, which was offensive on principle.
“That’s stupid, you’re acting like it's a diagnosis but it's not–.”
“I feel like I could diagnose whatever’s happening to you right now.”
Victoria turned then, ready to flatten her with a remark sharp enough to cut skin.
Santos was smiling—but softer than usual. No smugness. No teasing edge. Just watching her.
That was somehow worse.
“You talk too much,” Victoria said.
“Then give me something else to do.”
The elevator seemed suddenly smaller.
Victoria crossed the distance before common sense could intervene, pinning Santos lightly against the wall by the front of her jacket and kissing her hard enough to silence them both.
Santos made a surprised sound that melted immediately into the kiss, hands sliding to Victoria’s waist, then higher along her sides.
The elevator dinged again.
Neither moved.
The doors opened to Victoria’s floor.
An elderly man with groceries stood there blinking at them.
Victoria stepped back instantly.
Santos, completely unashamed, offered him a cheerful, “Evening.”
He backed out of the elevator.
The doors closed again.
Victoria covered her face with one hand.
“I hate you.”
Santos laughed so hard she had to lean against the rail.
“You absolutely do not.”
Victoria pressed the button for her floor again with murderous intent.
When the doors reopened a second time, she grabbed Santos’s wrist and marched her out.
“Not one word,” Victoria said.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I can smile silently.”
Victoria hauled her down the hall toward her apartment.
Behind her, Santos said sweetly, “You know, for someone so composed, you’re very easy to rile up.”
Victoria unlocked her door, shoved it open, and pulled Santos inside.
“Keep talking,” she said, kicking the door shut behind them, “and find out what else I am.”
The door had barely latched before Santos was laughing again.
Not loudly.
Just that warm, breathless laugh that made it sound like she was enjoying herself far too much.
Victoria dropped her keys onto the entry table with a clatter. “You think this is funny.”
“I think you dragged me down the hallway like you were arresting me.”
“I was containing a problem.”
“Oh?” Santos stepped farther into the apartment, turning slowly as she took in the space. “And what problem is that?”
Victoria shut the distance between them. “You.”
Santos’s smile flickered—still there, but smaller now.
Almost like shes interested.
“Good answer.”
The apartment was dim except for the kitchen light Victoria had left on that morning. Shoes by the door. A hoodie thrown over the couch. A stack of journals on the coffee table. Evidence of an orderly life now being thoroughly disrupted.
Santos looked around once more. “You’re neat.”
“I’m selective.”
“Is that what this is?” Santos asked, gaze sliding back to her. “Selective? Strange wording.”
Victoria should have said no.
Should have said this was temporary, reckless, a singular lapse in judgment caused by exhaustion and hormones and Santos’s unbearable mouth.
Instead, she said, “You’re talking again.”
Then she kissed her.
Santos stumbled back one step, catching herself against the wall with a grin that lasted all of two seconds before Victoria kissed it right off her face.
This one was less explosive than the elevator.
Worse, somehow.
Slower. Deliberate. Santos’s hands settling at Victoria’s waist like they’d always known where to go. Victoria’s fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of her neck. The kind of kiss that gave her entirely too much time to notice every reaction in her own body.
Every breath Santos took.
Every shift closer.
Every tiny sound she made when Victoria bit gently at her lower lip.
That sound nearly ended her.
“You are,” Victoria said against her mouth, “a menace.”
“Still talking,” Santos murmured.
Victoria kissed her harder.
Santos laughed into it, hands slipping beneath the hem of Victoria’s shirt just enough to brush warm fingertips over skin.
Victoria jerked back half an inch.
Santos went still immediately. “Too much?”
The question—easy, genuine, no trace of teasing—hit somewhere unexpectedly soft.
Victoria swallowed.
“No,” she said. “Just… unexpected.”
Something changed in Santos’s expression then. Less game, more attention.
“Tell me if it is.”
Victoria wasn’t used to being asked.
She was used to handling, directing, deciding. Used to staying two steps ahead of everyone else in the room.
With Santos, she kept finding herself caught off guard.
It was deeply inconvenient.
“Fine,” Victoria said.
“Fine?” Santos echoed.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Oh but I love your voice?”
Victoria rolled her eyes and tugged her back in by the belt loop.
Santos made a startled noise. “Jesus.”
“Not him,” Victoria said, already kissing down the line of her jaw. “Focus.”
That earned a hand at her hip, fingers pressing in.
“Bossy off the clock too?”
“Worse.”
“Good.”
The word landed low in Victoria’s stomach.
She backed Santos toward the couch, never breaking contact for long enough to think clearly. Knees hit the cushion. Santos sat, still looking up at her like this was the exact outcome she’d expected all night.
“Cocky,” Victoria said.
“Correct.”
Victoria stood between her knees, breathing a little harder than she’d ever admit.
Then Santos’s hands found her thighs again.
Same as the car.
Same unbearable calm.
Only now there was nowhere Victoria needed to drive, nowhere to look but down at her.
“That hand is trouble,” Victoria said.
“Both hands, actually.”
Victoria laughed despite herself—a short, surprised sound.
Santos’s expression softened instantly upon hearing it.
Victoria pulls her own shirt off, tossing it across the room. She can feel the other girls breath hitch and suddenly their position is flipped.
“Shit-”
Santos’ mouth closes onto her neck, making Victoria force her eyes closed. Her hands go up Santos’ shirt–gripping her back.
“Fuck, please don’t tease me much.” She mutters, the burning between her legs suddenly getting so much worse.
“I wouldn’t dream,” Trinity mocks, her mouth on her collarbone now. Victoria bites her cheek, wincing in pleasure. “Can I unhook these?”
Victoria feels Trinity’s hands on the band of her shorts. She nods needily, “Obviously.”
That's all Santos needs, she pulls her shorts and panties down with one motion. Then she immediately kisses Victoria again, feverishly. Two fingers rub gently against her clit.
“I knew I had you worked up but my god, you’re so wet for me.” Trinity mocks, biting Victoria’s lip. Before she can protest, she plummets two fingers inside her.
“Shit–Finally…” Victoria hisses out, her nails digging into her back. Trinity stifles a grunt, continuing at an increasing pace. She stops kissing her, watching the furrowed face Javadi is making.
Victoria feels slightly self conscious for a moment before feeling Trinity’s stare stop, her bra suddenly unclamped by the girl's free hand.
Trinity’s mouth immediately gets to work, leaving hickeys all over her breasts as her fingers plummet inside Victoria at a relentless pace. Victoria breathes heavy, shit shes close. So so close–
She cums, hard.
Trinity lets up on the pace, before pulling her fingers out dramatically as Victoria winces and breathes heavily.
“F-fuck Trinity.” She shudders out, releasing her hands from the death grip she had–she definitely left scratch marks all over Trinity’s back.
“God I need to feel you on my tongue.” Trinity finally responds, lowering her mouth to Victoria’s clit.
“Oh god,” Victoria mutters, eye contact as Trinity’s tongue snakes out on her clit. “Please.”
Trinity sucks gently, making Victoria grab her hair with both hands–unsure of what else she could grab besides the couch cushions.
That’s when her tongue dives in.
“T-trinity..” She whimpers out needily, throwing her head back in pleasure and tightening the grip on her hair. Trinity just stares up at her as she eats Victoria out vigorously.
She grins before thrusting her tongue in and out of Victoria, making her close oh so fast.
“F-fuck..! Slow down or–”
She cums, embarrassingly fast.
Santos finally lets up again, climbing up to kiss Javadi gently.
Victoria’s head is fucking spinning–having just came twice.
She climbs onto Trinity, deepening the kiss before she can react.
After a minute or so she pulls away,
“I wanna fuck you.”
“Wow, not gentle with it huh Crash?”
“Maybe call me by my name when I'm on top of you.”
“Fine, Vic. You don’t have to ask– you can just do, you know.”
Victoria kisses the other girl's jaw, immediately leaving marks down her neck.
“Hell, Vic–I was at least kind enough to not leave marks in obvious places.” Trinity mutters annoyed, but not annoyed enough to stop her.
“I don’t care.” She murmurs, leaving more marks now. “You can borrow one of my turtle necks.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Victoria's hand unhooks Trinity’s belt and forces down her pants.
Trinity stiffens, realizing Victoria hasn’t seen her naked.
Fuck.
There's scars across Trinity’s thighs, a few recent. Victoria’s brow furrows, mentally noting this. She knows this isn’t the time or place to comment on them, it would probably be too personal.
Plus, Trinity is looking at her pleadingly. She just needs to be touched right now. Victoria pulls down Trinity’s underwear,
She kisses gently against her clit, her tongue gently pressing against it before looking up at her again. Then she rakes her tongue, up and down teasingly.
All Trinity can think is how hot Victoria looks with her head between her thighs.
“V-vic…” She breathes out. “Fuck you’re making me feel good–”
Victoria shudders, before plummeting her tongue inside Trinity.
“Praise gets you g..god. Going huh?” Trinity breathes out, mockingly.
Victoria glares up at her, her tongue punishingly speeding up as she digs her nails into her thighs. Trinity grips the couch cushions–
And cums–her eyelids flutter, trying to regain herself as Victoria makes her ride out the orgasm.
Victoria pulls away and lays against Trinity’s chest, falling asleep.
Now it was Trinity’s turn to be confused, because… Is this casual or are they dating?
Fuck she hopes they’re dating, she can’t deal with another hellish situation ship.