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when the band began to play the stars were shining bright

Summary:

Navel and Naomi have dinner with an old ex-girlfriend of Naomi's— one Dr. Irene Quatro.

Notes:

This piece takes place roughly two years after the events of Trauma Team and six years before New Blood. The title is from the song “Good Morning” from Singin’ in the Rain.

This one's a bit different from my usual fare, and it was 100% inspired by the Trauma Center Discord!

Today's fic is smut-free!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Naomi Kimishima did not rattle easily.

Mutated super viruses?

Easy.

World ending pandemics?

Cake.

Meeting her ex for dinner?

Well…

She was only human.

 

“Where are my keys?” Naomi called from the bedroom.

Navel appeared in the doorway, jingling them. “Right here. They were on the hook by the door, like usual.”

Naomi snatched the keys from Navel’s hand and huffed past him. “We’re going to be late and Irene hates to be kept waiting.”

“We’re not going to be late. If anything, we’ll be early.” Navel extended an arm for Naomi to hold onto as she attempted to wriggle on a strappy heel. “It’s alright to be nervous seeing your ex, you know.”

“I am not nervous,” Naomi said, clutching at Navel’s arm firmly.

“Whatever you say…” Navel said. “So tell me about this Irene.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Considering I didn’t even know she existed until last night, I’ll take whatever you give me.”

Naomi’s heeled foot hit the floor with a clack. “I told you, she had a last minute layover–”

“Hey, I’m not mad,” Navel said, fetching their coats from the closet by the front door. “I think it would be hypocritical of me to be upset about you not sharing something from your past.” This summoned a reluctant smile from Naomi and he continued, “I’m just curious about this mystery woman.”

Naomi sighed. “We met when I was an intern at Johns Hopkins.”

Navel draped Naomi’s coat over her shoulders. “Another intern?”

“...No.”

Navel grinned as they made their way to their car. “So if she wasn’t another intern… she was your boss?”

“Did you use your FBI training to deduce that, Investigator?” Naomi replied, closing the driver’s side door harder than she meant to.

“Answer the question.”

“She was an attending.”

“So she was one of your bosses.”

“If you want to call it that.”

Navel let out an appreciative whistle.

Naomi fixed him with a familiar glare. “Behave or I’ll leave you at home.”

“So she’s older than you too?”

“I don’t know,” Naomi lied.

“Who made the first move?”

“Who can say?”

“Alright…” Navel said. “I just didn’t think you’d be such a Mrs. Robinson...”

“Technically Irene was the Mrs. Robinson. Although I did–” Naomi paused at the smug look on Navel’s face. He had caught her in his trap and squeezed out more information like water from a stone. How foolish of her to forget who she was dealing with. “Wipe that grin off your face, Little Guy.”

Navel did not wipe the grin from his face. “I’m learning a lot about you today, Kimishima.”

Naomi pursed her lips as she sped them down the highway.

“So are you winning the breakup?” Navel asked.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You know,” he said, “if you see an ex, you want to be able to say, look how well I’m doing.”

“I see.”

“For example,” Navel said, “I’ve won ever breakup ever. Look at my life. Look at my wife.”

“Charming.”

Was she winning the breakup? Naomi had things she didn’t think she would when she was in her twenties. A child, for one. And a husband. A new career she had slowly learned to love. She had lived a whole lifetime in the time since she’d last seen Irene.

Naomi reached for Navel’s hand. She was not much for hand holding. She valued her hands immensely and she generally hated the feeling of anything or anyone touching them for too long. 

But today, she was nervous.

“How did it end?” Navel asked gently.

Naomi traced her thumb over the scar on the back of Navel’s hand, a remnant of a childhood accident. “We ended things mutually.”

“It never really is though, right?”

Naomi just smiled.

“I bet you cared for each other a lot.”

“We did, yes.”

Navel squeezed Naomi’s hand in his. “We’re going to have a nice time at dinner.”

Naomi squeezed back. “You are being very mature and understanding.”

“Yeah, I contain multitudes.”

“But you are still enjoying this far too much, Little Guy,” Naomi said.

“I really am,” Navel replied.

“When did you get so confident?”

“My wife brings out the best in me.” He paused. “...But you never dated Gabe, right?”

“As far as you know.”


Navel’s first thought was that Dr. Irene Quatro was stately. He had never described a person as stately in his life and he had, in fact, attended a few state dinners with actual heads of state. But there was no other word for the stately, sharp-eyed woman before them. 

His second thought was that Naomi had a thing for blonds. And blue eyes…

And the last thought his brain clamped down on was that Naomi and Irene had an undeniable chemistry between them, a spark that, well, reminded him of what he and Naomi shared.

Navel felt a little bit like he was third wheeling a date until he felt Naomi reach for his hand under the table.

“...So,” Irene said, “it sounds like working together has been great fun for you both.”

“I mean,” Navel said, “I’d say it’s great but–”

“What are you saying?” Naomi interjected.

“–she’s an unrelenting taskmaster,” Navel finished.

Irene laughed. “She always was. Even as an intern.”

“Very funny,” Naomi said, a smirk creeping onto her face. “Enough about us. I want to hear about Caduceus East. How is everything coming together?”

“Quite well,” Irene said. “Did you ever get a chance to meet Dr. Robert Cromwell? I think he may have been after your time at the European branch…”

As the conversation turned to shop talk, Navel watched Naomi carefully. He was generally good at reading people. After all, he interrogated suspects for a living. He especially prided himself on being able to read his wife but at the moment he found her impenetrable, her features held in a placid, polite countenance.

He did have a few strong guesses though.

In another life, Naomi would have been this woman. Director of Caduceus. Lauded and loved surgical genius, leading the country into the future of medicine and healthcare.

And in another life still, Naomi may have stayed with this woman.

Navel glanced at Irene. In contrast to Naomi, the look in Irene's eyes was easy enough to interpret.

Once upon a time, he had also had unfinished business with Naomi Kimishima.

He gets it.

He knows the effect Naomi has.

Maybe in the past he would feel threatened. 

But today, with Naomi’s hand in his, he doesn’t feel jealous at all.


With just a bit of convincing, Irene found herself in Navel and Naomi’s home, accepting their invitation for an after-dinner drink

“I’m sorry you won’t get a chance to meet Alyssa,” Naomi said, handing Irene a glass of white wine. “She won’t be home from camp until next week.”

“I’m sure I’ll be back this way soon.”

“For business or pleasure?” Naomi asked. “Because the Irene I knew hated to be sent on vacation.”

“Or you could come by Caduceus East soon.”

The buzz of Navel’s phone saved Naomi from replying.

Navel glanced at his phone. “It’s the office. Excuse me,” he said, dismissing himself.

As soon as Naomi heard the bedroom door shut behind Navel, she sidled closer to Irene. “So what do you think?”

Navel was not who Irene would have thought Naomi would have ended up with. She had thought Naomi would fall in line with some suit with a sports car, perhaps an older man of wealth and class. She had always known Naomi to have a superficial streak about her.

But Navel seemed the polar opposite of that. A salt of the earth all-American boy with a grin that could melt you. He seemed to inspire a lightness in Naomi that Irene had never seen on her before.

Irene smiled. “You’re perfect together. He’s a real charmer.”

Relief seemed to wash over Naomi. “Isn’t he?”

“Very cute. Is that rude to say?”

“No, he is,” Naomi agreed.

“Robbing the cradle though, aren’t you?”

Naomi laughed. “I can assure you he’s not that much younger than I am. And you’re one to talk.”

Truly, given the circumstances of how they had come to be together years ago, Irene had no leg to stand on.

Naomi had set herself apart from her intern class immediately. She was striking, intelligent, and the most talented doctor Irene had ever met. Maybe it was because she had grown increasingly enchanted by her, but on occasion, even Naomi’s surgical skills seemed to have an otherworldly quality to them.

But Naomi was also an intern. Irene was an attending. She was much older than Naomi. It would not be appropriate. She did not want to throw away her hardwon reputation for a girl who wouldn’t even be here in a few months. So Irene allowed the gulf between them to grow, keeping her interactions with Naomi on the cold side of professional.

That is until that one night.

After a particularly brutal shift, Irene had been cajoled by the interns into joining them for drinks at the nearby dive bar. Her agreement had summoned cheers from the more boisterous ones– “Dr. Quiet” was finally coming out with them. As the bar emptied out, she and Naomi found themselves alone. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the day, maybe it was the Malbec, maybe it was something else altogether but when Naomi’s hand landed on her knee, the gulf between them faded into a few physical inches Irene knew she needed to close. Naomi had tasted of amaretto.

They kept their relationship between themselves after. It was easier that way. Besides, Naomi had plans to return to Japan after her internship, a built-in expiration date for their time together. If there was any chance of Naomi agreeing, Irene would have asked her to stay. 

But Irene knew she wouldn’t, so she didn’t.

In the present, Irene wandered to the shelves that lined one wall of Navel and Naomi’s living room, where photos and mementos mingled amongst an eclectic collection of books. She chuckled when she spotted a mug with “World’s Okayest Medical Examiner” hand painted on it. Her eyes paused at Naomi’s ​​Lasker Award for aiding in the discovery of the antiserum for the Rosalia Virus, nestled right next to one of Alyssa’s soccer trophies. 

Irene picked up a photo of Naomi, Navel, and their daughter Alyssa, encased in a handmade frame made of popsicle sticks. In the photo, Alyssa held the phone with one hand while her other arm was thrown around her parents, the whole family squished close together. The look on Naomi’s face was one of pure joy. The Naomi in the photo felt familiar yet wholly different from the woman Irene had known years ago. Not better, not worse. Just different.

Irene set the photo down. “You built yourself a beautiful life, Naomi,” she said softly.

Had things progressed differently, this may have been their home. The Naomi Kimishima Irene knew had grand plans– humanitarian work around the world; a staff position at a destination hospital; becoming a Chief of Surgery by the time she was thirty-five.

Kids, marriage, pets even… they never even came up.

People do change though.

“I love how you’ve done your hair,” Naomi said, pulling Irene out of her thoughts.

Irene’s hand flew to her chignon. “Oh?”

“But I miss the short look though.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. It suited you so much.”

“I think I look much less threatening with longer hair.”

“You’ve never been threatening, Irene.” Naomi came to Irene’s side. “And you look beautiful either way.”

Irene’s mouth suddenly filled with the taste of cherries and almonds.

“Sorry to interupt,” Navel said, coming back into the room. “Naomi, he wants to talk to you.”

“Really?” Naomi said, a twinge of whine in her voice. “It’s so late.”

“You know Holden.” Navel shrugged. “I already got us out of going back to the office tonight.”

Naomi took the phone from Navel with a sigh. “Fine.”

She opened the balcony door, letting a whoosh of cold air into the room. “I won’t be long.”


Whatever was keeping Naomi on the phone was taking too long, and Navel and Irene had rapidly run through the gamut of small talk topics. It was only natural they moved on to more pressing topics of discussion.

“So.” Navel tapped his fingers against his whiskey glass. “Tell me about Kimishima the intern.”

“She was…” Irene paused to find the right words. “A force of nature.”

“Naturally.”

“In designer scrubs.”

“Of course.”

“She made a nurse cry once. She brought her a box of chocolates after that and then they started eating lunch together every day.”

“Sounds like her.”

Irene took a moment to take in Navel’s presence. He really was cute. The kind of colleague you could nurse a crush on for months and months. Not Irene’s type. For more reasons than one. But cute nevertheless. 

“You are remarkably composed for meeting your partner’s ex,” Irene said.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” Navel responded. “I don’t know, I guess I had always imagined Naomi as…”

“Lonely,” Irene finished.

“That’s it exactly,” Navel said. “She doesn’t talk much about her past. But knowing someone loved her? What could be wrong with that? I’m glad someone kept her happy.”

“She’s certainly something.” Irene looked at the woman out on the terrace. “I very much enjoyed being with her.”

Navel followed Irene’s gaze. 

It wasn’t easy to forget about Naomi Kimishima.

Irene took a long sip of her wine, aware that she had perhaps crossed a line.

To her surprise, Navel seemed unfazed. Amused, even.

Irene cleared her throat. “So do you and Naomi have any plans for–”

“Dr. Quatro,” Navel interrupted, his voice light, “if you do end up making a pass at Naomi tonight, can I at least watch?”

A laugh caught in Irene’s throat. Naomi always liked a bold motherfucker.

She examined Navel as she chose her next words carefully. “I’m sure you can do more than just watch, Agent Navel.”

Now it was Navel’s turn to be taken aback. “What?”

Irene shook her head with a nervous chuckle. “Forgive me. That was–”

“No, sorry, that was all me.” Navel put his hands up in mock defense. “Just a bad joke. Sorry.”

They sat quietly, treading in the mother of all awkward silences. Until–

“But were you really joking?” Irene asked.

“Uh, were you?”

“Maybe not.” 

When she first met Naomi, Irene could barely admit to herself what she wanted. What she desired. But now…

“I’m open to it,” Irene declared.

“I mean, Naomi and I have talked about it, sure,” Navel said, pink dusting his cheeks. “But, uh…”

That didn’t surprise Irene at all. “But I’m guessing you two have never been presented with the opportunity?”

“Yeah. In the end I’d say it’s up to Naomi.”

Irene held up her glass in a toast. “Isn’t everything?”

Navel reached over and clinked his glass against hers. “Too true.”

“You know–”

They’re interrupted by the sound of the balcony door sliding open and their topic of discussion coming back inside. 

“Are my ears burning?” Naomi asked her audience with a smile. She looked between Navel and Irene. “What’d I miss?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

when your husband and your ex-girlfriend both mutually decide they’re cool with each other and they’d like to fuck you, hell yeah

Did someone say throuple?

navel and irene really hit each other with the “just kidding... unless?”

and am i implying irene cut her hair short because naomi said she liked it that way? yeah, i am

Originally all three circles of the Venn diagram were supposed to cross in the middle but then I realized that just wasn’t working for me or the characters. I love how the fandom looked at Irene Quatro and we all decided this woman likes women!

And shout out my guy Ian Holden for helping to unknowingly facilitate this rendezvous, love ya, ya ginger bastard!