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Trinity loves her cropped tops.
She's convinced Baran loves them even more.
It's autumn now, though, and Trinity has traded them, at least around the house, for oversized sweaters.
Some of them (okay, most of them) belong to Baran, sleeves hanging past her wrists and carrying the lingering scent of her girlfriend's laundry detergent and perfume.
That doesn't stop Baran.
More often than not, Trinity will be halfway through whatever she's doing—usually preparing dinner or rinsing dishes—when Baran pads up behind her without a word. Gentle fingers find the hem of the sweater and ease it upward until cool air kisses Trinity's bare stomach.
Then Baran slips both arms around her waist, palms settling against the softness there like they've always belonged.
She likes to tuck her cheek into the curve of Trinity's neck with a content little sigh, her calloused fingertips tracing slow, absentminded circles around Trinity's navel.
Trinity shivers, definitely because of the cold.
Absolutely nothing to do with the warm weight pressed against her back.
She usually keeps working anyway, even if it becomes significantly more difficult with a Baran-shaped backpack attached to her. She shifts the cutting board a little farther away, leans back just enough that Baran doesn't have to hold herself up, and smiles to herself.
Trinity wouldn't change a thing.
Well.
Maybe one thing.
Not Baran herself. Never that.
Her girlfriend somehow manages to be all quiet confidence and commanding authority, while also becoming impossibly small whenever she folds herself into Trinity's side, searching for shelter from the storms brewing inside her.
Trusting Trinity to weather them with her.
Trinity has never figured out how someone can be so strong when they have to be, and so fragile all the same. Just not everyone gets to see the second part.
Which is a long way of saying Baran is perfect. Or as close to perfect as Trinity has ever known. More than she'd ever let herself believe she deserved.
But Baran is also, much to the surprise of past Trinity and most of the ED staff, very human.
And humans come with insecurities.
One of Baran's seems to be physical:
While she loves Trinitys stomach, she often covers her own. Encourages Trinity to touch elsewhere when theyre intimate and, more often than not, keeps some sort of shirt on during.
Trinity knows what its like, still preferring to keep boxers on sometimes.
But Baran knows her reasons by now. And she had been so gentle about it.
Trinity brings it up carefully one night after a long week of shifts, too tired to overthink it the way she usually would.
Dinner has already been cleared away, leaving only two bowls of ice cream on the kitchen table. Omid is with his father for the weekend, which means they have the house entirely to themselves.
Trinity bites back a smile.
He would be absolutely outraged to learn they'd eaten ice cream without him, especially when his mom only rarely approves of second dessert.
She can already picture the offended little crease between his eyebrows and the declaration that they owed him extra scoops next time.
The thought lingers just long enough to warm her before she looks up.
Two soulful brown eyes are already fixed on her.
Watching.
Intently.
That's another thing about Baran. She never just looks.
She observes, analyzes. Takes everything in.
Baran doesn't always say much at first, not until she's quietly pieced together whatever puzzle is unfolding in front of her, but Trinity can practically always see her thinking three steps ahead.
It makes Baran an incredible physician. As a girlfriend...
Well, sometimes its a little intimidating.
Especially because silence once meant danger to Trinity. It meant scanning every expression, every pointed pause, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong this time.
It's gotten better with Baran. So much better.
Still, sitting across from her now at the kitchen table, Trinity raises an eyebrow with far more confidence than she actually feels and answers Baran's gaze with an easy smirk.
"What are you looking at?" She tilts her head.
The corners of Baran's mouth lift ever so slightly. Knowingly. "You're thinking very hard about something," she says simply.
Then her expression softens.
Her hand slides across the smooth mahogany tabletop until her fingertips brush Trinity's, giving them a gentle tap.
Without thinking, Trinity sets down her spoon and threads their fingers together.
"Care to share?" Baran gives a little squeeze.
Warmth blooms up Trinity's neck. It never feels like a challenge with Baran. Never like one of those secret tests.
Baran is simply asking because she wants to know.
So she decides to be honest.
"Nothing bad," she starts, then immediately falters. "Well, I mean... maybe? It's not really my place to say, I think. Maybe it's actually fine—"
"Baby."
Baran gives their joined hands a gentle tug, drawing Trinity a little closer. Only then does Trinity realize her palms have started to sweat.
"Breathe." Trinity swallows and nods. She takes one slow breath. Then another.
"Sorry."
"No worries." There's not even the slightest edge to Baran's voice. Just patience. "Try again?"
"Yeah." Trinity lets out a shaky sigh. "It's just... something I've noticed, I guess." She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a second before making herself continue.
"I really don't want to make you uncomfortable."
Baran's head tilts ever so slightly, curiosity softening her expression.
"I..." Trinity pauses, trying to untangle the thought before it disappears altogether. "You don't really like me touching you..." She gestures vaguely toward her own torso. "Here."
Heat creeps into her cheeks.
"I mean..." She huffs out a tiny, embarrassed laugh. "You like doing it with me."
Her blush deepens almost instantly as a handful of very distracting memories choose that exact moment to resurface.
"And—and I like that very much," she adds quickly, just in case there was any room for misunderstanding.
Another slow breath.
"You also don't really like to show skin there." Trinity shrugs one shoulder, hoping the gesture looks more casual than she feels. "Which is completely fine, of course."
Baran's expression shifts almost imperceptibly. She's thinking.
Trinity can practically see it happening.
But Baran doesn't say anything.
"It doesn't have to be a big thing," Trinity says quickly, the silence making her words tumble over each other.
"We don't have to talk about it at all."
She starts to pull her hand back, already half ready to retreat and let herself quietly die of humiliation somewhere else.
Baran doesn't let go.
Instead, her fingers tighten just enough to stop Trinity from leaving, then gently pull her hand back toward the center of the table.
"I understand," she says at last, her voice as calm and even as ever. But she's no longer quite looking at Trinity.
"It's..." She exhales through her nose. "Difficult to explain."
Trinity nods. "You don't have to explain it perfectly."
Another silence. Then, almost reluctantly, Baran begins.
"You are younger than I am." Trinity blinks.
"By over ten years," Baran continues matter-of-factly, as though reciting a patient's history.
"You were a gymnast for most of your life. You still move like one."
A tiny, self-conscious laugh escapes Trinity. "I definitely don't."
"You do."
The certainty in Baran's voice makes Trinity smile despite herself.
"You don't notice it anymore because it's familiar to you." Baran's gaze drifts down to their joined hands. "But I do."
Trinity waits.
"I look at you..." Baran pauses, her words slowing. "And I see someone whose body still seems young, .....beautiful."
The word lands awkwardly between them.
"I know that's an oversimplification," she says quickly. " I know you've had...injuries." She shakes her head, almost frustrated with herself. "That's not what I mean."
"I know what you mean," Trinity says quietly.
Baran's shoulders loosen a fraction.
"When I look at myself..." Her voice grows smaller, almost careful around the words. "I don't see the same thing."
She swallows.
"My stomach changed after Omid."
Trinity doesn't interrupt.
"Some marks faded." Baran gives a tiny shrug. "but not fully."
Her free hand lifts instinctively, hovering over her own middle before dropping back into her lap.
"The skin..." She hesitates, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the kitchen window. "It never really went back."
"So sometimes..." Baran laughs once, humorless and quiet. "Sometimes when you reach for me there..." She gestures vaguely toward her abdomen. "I think about all the things you could be feeling instead."
Trinity's chest tightens.
Baran shakes her head, almost annoyed by herself.
"I often tell patients that bodies change. Pregnancy changes them. Aging too." She smiles faintly, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I believe that. Truly."
"But believing something..." Her voice catches for the first time all evening. "...doesn't always mean feeling it."
Trinity squeezes her hand gently. Baran squeezes back without looking up.
"It's not rational. I can't change it. Usually, If something is wrong," The corner of her mouth lifts just enough to acknowledge how very much that sounds like her. "I analyze it."
"And then you solve it."
"Yes."
"So..." Trinity says carefully, giving the question room to breathe instead of rushing it, "the solution was to hide it."
Baran is silent.
Long enough that Trinity wonders whether she's misunderstood.
Then Baran nods. "Yes."
The single word is almost painfully quiet.
"I didn't..." She closes her eyes for a brief second before opening them again. "I wasn't trying to keep you away."
"I know."
"I know its stupid, but I just thought..." She gives another tiny shrug, one that somehow makes her seem much younger than she is.
"If I kept my shirt on. Or moved your hand somewhere else."
Her cheeks color as she looks away.
"If I controlled it first..." She swallows. "Then you wouldn't have the opportunity to notice."
Trinity's heart aches. "Oh, Baran."
She slips her chair back just enough to move closer, still careful not to crowd her. Their knees brush beneath the table.
"I've noticed," Trinity says.
Baran stills.
"And every single time I've noticed..." Trinity smiles, warm and impossibly gentle. "I've thought, 'wow, there's my girlfriend.'"
Baran's expression crumples so subtly someone else might have missed it.
The careful composure she'd been holding together all evening developing its first tiny crack.
"I don't compare you to me," Trinity continues. "I don't look at you and wish you were ten years younger. Or different. Or..." She laughs softly. "anyone else. Ever."
That earns the tiniest huff of amusement.
"I look at you, Baran." She lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to Baran's knuckles.
"I see the beautiful woman who carried Omid."
Another.
"I see the woman I love."
Baran's eyes glisten.
She ducks her head with an embarrassed little smile that seems entirely at odds with the poised physician who walks hospital corridors giving orders without hesitation.
"I...don't really know what to do with that," she admits.
"You don't have to do anything."
Trinity brushes her thumb across the back of Baran's hand.
"You could try to let me love all of you." For a long moment, Baran simply looks at her. "But you dont have to."
Baran swallows.
Then she nods. "I really want to try," she says quietly.
Trinity stands, still holding Baran's hand, giving it the gentlest tug. Baran stands willingly, offering no resistance as she rises from her chair and folds forward into her embrace with a soft exhale.
Trinity smiles to herself.
Almost immediately, Baran's hands slip beneath the hem of her hoodie on instinct, warm palms settling against her sides.
Her thumbs stroke absent, familiar paths there, as though her body has forgotten every promise she'd made to keep her distance.
As though this has always been home.
Pulling back just enough to see her, Trinity brushes a soft kiss against one cheek. Then the other.
"It doesn't have to be now," she whispers. She lets her lips linger for just a moment on the skin beneath Baran's ear.
Baran shivers.
The arms around Trinity's waist tighten, drawing them closer until there's barely any space left between them. Trinity can suddenly feel the sturdy seam of Baran's jeans against her own thigh.
She swallows dryly.
"I still need to shower," Baran says. Her voice is steadier now. More like herself.
Baran nudges her knee forward just enough and Trinity has to swallow back a small, involuntary whine.
"You want to join me?" The question is tentative in a way only Trinity would recognize.
But before Trinity can answer, Baran steps away.
The sudden absence of her warmth leaves the kitchen feeling strangely cool, the imprint of her touch lingering against Trinity's skin even after she's gone.
Already halfway to the stairs, Baran doesn't look back.
She doesn't have to.
Trinity is smiling before she even realizes it, utterly devoid of embarrassment over how quickly she falls into step behind her.
The bathroom is already warm when they get there, steam beginning to gather at the edges of the mirror as the water runs.
Baran turns the shower heads on first, adjusting the temperature with small, precise movements. Trinity watches her for a second longer than she means to.
Then Baran steps in.
Trinity follows.
The space is enough for both of them without forcing closeness, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Not really.
They start out the way they intended:washing the day off. Standing under two separate streams of water that blur their silhouettes in the glass and tile.
(Because yes, Baran has that kind of shower.)
But even then, they drift.
Soon they’re sharing one stream.
The water falls over both of them now, warm and steady, tracing the lines of shoulders and collarbones.
Baran’s hands are careful as she smooths soap over Trinity’s arms, her wrists, the curve of her back. Trinity returns it with equal attention, watching the way Baran’s breathing shifts when she’s touched without urgency, without expectation.
At some point, the rhythm changes.
Trinity leans in first.
A kiss that starts light at Baran’s shoulder, then lingers longer than necessary. Another follows at the side of her neck. Then another, slower, more deliberate, mapping small moles along the skin.
Baran relaxes beneath her touch.
Her reactions are restrained at first—small exhales, the slightest tilt of her head as if she’s deciding how much of this she can allow herself to feel.
But each moment under Trinity’s mouth seems to melt something carefully held in place.
Trinity moves behind her eventually, chest pressed to Baran’s back. Baran leans back into her without hesitation.
Trinity’s hands begin to explore again, slower this time, more deliberate. Baran’s shoulders first, the tension there that eases under steady touch.
The slope of her ribs beneath water and breath.
Baran reaches back suddenly, catching Trinity’s hand.
Trinity pauses. There’s a flash of uncertainty in her chest, but Baran is already guiding her forward again, placing her palm gently against her own stomach.
The gesture is quiet.
Trinity pauses completely for a moment, waiting. Baran’s breath is uneven now, but her voice stays steady when she speaks.
“Here,” she says softly, directing her.
Trinity exhales slowly. Then she listens.
Her hand moves carefully, not rushing to fill the space but allowing herself to feel it fully: the softness and the ridges the of a body that has carried, changed, healed, and kept going.
Her lips find Baran’s shoulder again as her fingers continue, slower now, more reverent than exploratory.
Baran tenses.
Immediately, Trinity stills.
Her hand lifts slightly, hovering away. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs instinctively, already pulling back. But Baran doesn’t let her retreat. She takes a breath, longer than the rest.
Then Baran leans back into her again, more fully this time, choosing the contact.
“No,” she says quietly. A pause. “Don’t stop.”
Trinity waits one more heartbeat, searching her face even though Baran isn’t looking at her. Then, gently, she continues.
Baran doesn't pull away. Instead, her hands find Trinity's neck, slipping around it from behind as though she needs something solid to hold onto.
"Yes..." she sighs, the word barely louder than the water surrounding them.
Warmth blooms through Trinity's chest as she lets her hand continue its slow path across Baran's hip bone, her touch gentle enough to ask the question over and over again.
Is this still okay?
Baran answers every time by leaning into it. Bucking her hips once, instinctually.
She's breathing hard now.
So is Trinity.
Watching Baran unravel in her arms never fails to leave her feeling a little drunk. It's always the same—a woman so composed everywhere else allowing herself to become wonderfully, beautifully instinctive with Trinity.
The shower has long since washed away every trace of shampoo. Neither of them seems to notice.
Trinity braces one hand against the cool tile, needing the extra balance as she presses another lingering kiss into Baran's damp hair. She bends one knee slightly, nudging Baran to widen her stance.
Barans body responds before either of them says a word. Slowly, she begins moving back against Trinity's thigh.
"God, Baran..." Trinity breathes against her ear. The warm wetness coating her leg has nothing to do with the shower anymore.
If anything, the words only encourage Baran. Her movements become more urgent.
Her fingers tighten where they're still linked behind Trinity's neck, holding on as though Trinity is the only steady thing left in the room.
Trembling now, Trinity's own knees threaten to give out. For one terrifying second, her foot slips against the wet tile.
She catches herself, and Baran, with a sharp laugh, palm smacking against the shower glass.
"Whoa," she pants. "Careful."
Baran lets out a soft, frustrated whine at the sudden loss of contact.
When Trinity pulls back just enough to look at her, she almost abandons all common sense.
Baran's eyes are hazy, half-lidded.
She looks at Trinity with an expression so open, so unguarded, that it steals the air from Trinity's lungs.
Almost confused in her neediness. Almost asking why she'd stopped.
"It's okay," Trinity says softly.
She smiles as she brushes damp hair away from Baran's forehead before gently turning her by the shoulders until they're facing each other.
"Let's go to bed, all right?"
It takes Baran a moment to catch up. Then understanding settles across her features.
She nods.
From the first moment Trinity stepped into Baran's luxurious two-headed shower, she'd imagined this exact outcome. She might have even gotten herself off over the fantasy once or twice before tonight.
Reality, however, includes slippery tile, two overworked doctor, with absolutely no desire to become the kind of accident they'd both have to explain in the ER.
As Trinity keeps both hands firmly on Baran's hips while they step carefully from the shower, she makes herself a silent promise.
One day they'll figure out the logistics.
Tonight, simply making it safely to the bedroom feels like victory enough.
The moment they reach the bed, Trinity places a gentle hand against Baran's sternum, encouraging her backward.
Baran obeys.
She settles onto the maroon sheets without resistance, damp hair fanning across the pillow like a dark halo.
For a long moment, Trinity simply stands there, taking her in.
It still amazes her, how months into loving this woman, her heart hasn't learned to be any calmer about it. She still gets that familiar nervous warmth spreading through her chest, urging her to make Baran feel cherished in every possible way.
Tonight, though...
Something feels different.
When Trinity shivers, she realizes it isn't because of the cool air.
"Are you coming?"
Baran reaches toward her, curling her fingers in a small 'come here' gesture.
Then, in a motion that makes Trinity's heart perform an embarrassing little flip, Baran taps her own lips.
Waiting.
Smiling so hard her cheeks ache, Trinity crawls onto the bed, moving slowly until she's suspended above Baran.
"Hi."
Baran smiles. "Hi."
The simple greeting catches unexpectedly in Trinity's chest. There's suddenly a strange, almost overwhelming tenderness lodged in her throat.
Baran taps her lips again. Trinity smiles and leans down to kiss her. Her lips still taste faintly of vanilla ice cream and shampoo.
When they separate again, Trinity lingers close enough that their noses nearly brush.
"Do you want me to get your shirt?" she asks quietly. She works hard to keep the question gentle.
Not making it into something bigger than it needs to be. She wants Baran to know that.
"No."
Baran reaches up, sliding her hand to the back of Trinity's neck and drawing her down into another lingering kiss.
"Just you," she whispers. The words settle somewhere deep inside Trinity.
"Okay," she breathes. She cups Baran's face in both hands, thumbs brushing slowly over her cheeks.
It's intoxicating, the way an entire week of stress seems to melt from her jaw and neck, in Trinity's hands.
She gives Baran another soft kiss before letting her mouth wander lower, following the graceful line of her neck.
Her hands follow where her lips lead, never hurrying, always checking in through touch alone.
Baran's breathing grows uneven beneath her.
Fine hairs stand where Trinity explores with her tounge, drawing slow circles against her breasts. Barans back arches up when she twists her nipple carefully.
Trinity smiles against her skin. "Feeling good?"
The question is half tease, half check-in. Baran answers with a quiet, breathless, "Please."
The impatience in that single word makes Trinity laugh softly.
She could tease her, draw this out. Ordinarily, she probably would.
But not now. Tonight is about letting Baran discover that nothing about her needs to be hidden.
Slowly, reverently, Trinity lets her lips continue their journey until they rest against the soft skin just above Baran's navel.
She pauses there, then, carefully, her teeth nip at the soft skin.
A desperate gasp escapes Baran as she reaches downward, finding one of Trinity's hands and holding on. She clings to it, her body arching in a silent plea.
"Okay, okay," Trinity breathes against her, kissing lower. "I got you."
Never breaking the trail of kisses she'd been pressing against Baran's stomach, Trinity lets her free hand continue where Baran has guided her.
Every movement is careful, every touch checking in even now.
"Trin, don't stop, please." Baran's fingers tighten around her hand. "C'mon, baby... make me feel good."
The words send a rush of warmth through Trinity.
Following Barans command, she moves her hand, gently pushing two fingers into her. Simultaneously, she lets her tounge drag up Barans side, follwoing one of the faint marks there.
After punctuating the movement with a kiss, she starts finding a rythm:
a stroke with her hand, one with her tounge.
A thrust inside Baran, and a kiss on the stomach.
She works her up with each stroke, each small kiss, worshipping the skin she likes to rest her head on.
"Youre so beautiful." Trinity pants.
"Here." Another kiss.
"Just like this." A stroke inside of her.
Heat unfurls low in Trinity's own stomach when she recognizes the subtle shift in Baran's breathing. How every careful touch draws another helpless sound from her lips.
She doesn't rush. She simply keeps loving her this way.
Working her there with patient hands while her mouth continues mapping every inch of the body she'd fallen in love with long before tonight.
Trinity adjusts her hand, moving deeper inside Baran, pushing just against the right spot.
The change pulls another broken gasp from Baran. She bites against the back of her own hand, trying to quiet herself.
"It's okay." Trinity swallows, her own voice trembling now. "Let me hear you, baby."
For a second, Baran hesitates.
Then she lets her hand fall away, fingers twisting instead into the rumpled sheets beneath her.
"Trin—"
The rest dissolves into a helpless cry as Trinity continues, encouraged by every tiny response Baran no longer tries to suppress.
The restraint she'd carried all evening has finally given way to instinct. Her breathing grows ragged.
Soft, unintelligible sounds spill freely now, each one making Trinity's heart pound harder.
Her lips drift back toward Baran's navel.
She pauses only long enough to press another lingering kiss there before smiling against warm skin.
"God..." The words escape before Trinity can stop them. "You don't know how insane you make me."
She presses another kiss to her stomach, lingering there.
Another stroke inside her.
"Every day at work," she murmurs. "Just seeing your neck... your arms..."
Another kiss.
"I already can't stop looking at you."
Baran's legs begin to tremble.
"But all of you..." Trinity whispers, letting her forehead rest briefly against Baran's stomach, "like this..."
Her voice catches.
"It's just... out of this world."
She lets her lips find barans clit, sucking gently in rythm with her hands.
Thats all it takes.
Barans legs tense up around her as she comes with a single strangled shout of her name.
"Trin! Fuuuck-" Trinity keeps going, slightly slowing down the movements.
The tension her girlfriend had been carrying all day melts away all at once.
Trinity stays with her through it all, slowing naturally as Baran's breathing gradually steadies again.
She presses one last lingering kiss to her clit before she comes up face to face with her girlfriend again.
"I meant every word," she whispers.
Baran's fingers find her hair, threading through the damp strands.
"I know," she says, her voice rough with emotion.
Baran reaches for her before Trinity can say another word.
Her hand slides into Trinity's damp hair, fingers curling gently at the nape of her neck as she draws her closer.
The kiss lingers in the quiet they've settled into, warm and familiar.
Trinity tastes salt. It takes her a heartbeat to understand why.
When she pulls back only far enough to look at Baran, she notices the shine first. Then the tears.
Only a few of them, having escaped despite Baran's obvious determination to keep them contained. They cling to the corners of her eyes before slipping silently down toward her temples.
Something inside Trinity aches. "Oh."
She smiles—not because it's funny, but because she hopes Baran will see there's nothing frightening about this.
With the pad of her thumb, she gently wipes one tear away. Then another.
"So unfair," she murmurs softly. "You even cry pretty."
Baran lets out the smallest, wet laugh. "I wasn't trying to."
"I know."
Trinity brushes another thumb across her cheek, lingering there. "Are you okay?"
Baran nods. "...Just a little overwhelmed."
The honesty of it makes Trinity's heart squeeze.
She leans in and kisses her again, softer this time, barely more than a press of lips.
"That's okay." Another kiss.
"You're allowed." Baran closes her eyes.
"I don't..." She exhales, searching for words. "I don't think anyone has ever..." Her voice falters. "...looked at me like that."
Trinity feels a twist low in her chest. "I can't imagine looking at you any other way."
For a long moment, neither of them speaks.
Baran studies her with that familiar, searching gaze, though it has lost its clinical precision. There is no analyzing in it now.
Only wonder.
Eventually, one corner of her mouth lifts.
"I should return the favor."
Trinity laughs quietly. "You really don't have to."
"I want to."
"I know." Trinity brushes a loose strand of dark hair behind Baran's ear. "But I don't need anything."
"You deserve—"
"I already got what I wanted."
Baran blinks. "What?"
"You."
The answer leaves Trinity's mouth before she has time to overthink it. She doesn't regret it.
"I wanted..." She shakes her head, smiling to herself. "I wanted you to believe me."
Baran's expression softens in a way Trinity has never quite found words for.
"I think..." Baran says slowly, almost as though she's testing the sentence while she builds it. "I think I'm starting to."
A laugh escapes Trinity before she can stop it, watery around the edges.
"Good."
Silence settles over them again.
The bedroom is dim except for the warm glow of the bedside lamp.
Outside, rain has started drizzling, landing lazily against the window.
Trinity simply looks at Baran.
Her cheeks are still flushed, her hair is damp and hopelessly tangled across the pillow.
Her eyes stay heavy-lidded, softened by emotion more than exhaustion now.
She needs to be closer.
Before she can even decide to move, Baran opens one arm.
It seems they arrive at the same conclusion at exactly the same time.
Trinity folds herself into her without hesitation.
Baran gathers her in with a contented little sigh that vibrates through both of them, wrapping one arm around Trinity's shoulders and the other around her waist until there is scarcely an inch of space left between them.
"Oh," Trinity laughs softly into her neck. "We're doing this?"
"We're doing this," Baran mumbles, already sounding half asleep.
She pulls Trinity impossibly closer, her chin tucking over the top of Trinity's head.
Every time Trinity shifts even slightly, Baran follows.
When Trinity hooks one leg comfortably over Baran's, Baran immediately adjusts to keep their bodies aligned.
When Trinity nestles closer, Baran's hand begins absentmindedly stroking slow circles between her shoulder blades.
The movement is unconscious. Trinity huffs into the warmth of her neck.
There they are again.
Those hands.
Always finding her. Always needing to touch.
They stay like that for a long while, saying nothing.
Listening to each other breathe.
Feeling their heartbeats gradually slow until they're no longer racing to catch up.
Eventually, Trinity kisses Baran's shoulder and reluctantly untangles herself.
"I'll be right back."
Baran immediately frowns.
"I know. Tragic."
Reaching toward the nightstand, Trinity grabs the bottle of water she'd left there earlier, along with a soft washcloth.
When she turns back, Baran is watching her with quiet curiosity.
"What?"
"Did you plan this?."
Trinity just shrugs. She unscrews the bottle first and places it gently into Baran's hands. "Drink."
"You sound bossy."
"You love it."
"...I do. Sometimes."
Baran takes a long drink. Then Trinity wets the washcloth with a little cool water from the bottle.
She settles back onto the bed beside her.
"May I?"
Baran nods without hesitation.
Trinity's touch is as gentle now as it had been all evening.
She moves slowly, carefully, never making the moment feel clinical. The cloth is cool against warm skin, and Baran lets out a small sigh, relaxing further into the pillows.
"There you go," Trinity murmurs.
Baran watches her the entire time. The spell between them doesn't break.
When Trinity finishes, Baran catches her wrist before she can pull away.
"Thank you," she says simply.
Trinity smiles. "There was never anything to thank me for."
Baran's thumb strokes once across the inside of her wrist.
"I know. But still." She swallows visibly. "Thanks for loving me like that."