Root has a depression fit while on a mission and it makes shaw worry
“You’re creeping me out, Eeyore,” Shaw tells her without looking her in the eyes. Because her eyes are glassy and nearly dead, and Shaw can bear a lot of things on low volume. But not that. That makes the volume much louder than she’s used to.
“Missing the perky psychopath?” Root asks, repeating Shaw’s earlier words, but her voice, too, is glassy. Is nearly dead.
“Root,” Shaw starts, but Root shushes her. Their number is on the move.
They both end up with bruises and gunshot grazes.
They both end up with their shirts off and gauze on.
“You usually like it when I play doctor,” Shaw comments, and it might be the first time she’s initiated flirting.
But Root just blinks, her eyes fixed on a point over Shaw’s shoulder.
Shaw sighs and observes her handiwork. “Not the best stitches I could give, but the best with this damn equipment.”
“Your best is more than good enough for me, Sameen,” Root tells her, but her voice is distant, her eyes even more so.
Shaw sighs.
“How long’s it been, Root?”
“Asking after my sex life, Shaw? How inappropriate.” Her words have humor, but her tone, little to none.
“Since she talked to you, Root. How long?”
“Samaritan hears everything, Sam. Everything. Except the puzzles she can leave me.”
“And that’s what your life’s become. Searching for puzzles and solving them for some scrap of survival.”
“All of our lives, not just mine.”
“But yours hurts more,” Shaw mutters, almost more to herself than to Root.
It’s that accidental slip, more than anything, that makes Root finally look down at her. That make her eyes lock onto hers.
“You got shot,” Root deadpans, and Shaw grins, because there’s a pout in Root’s voice that Shaw never thought she’d miss.
“Occupational hazard.” She pauses as Root starts to smile. Slightly. “Come to bed, Root.”
Root’s eyes widen. Slightly.
“Sameen, I – “
“You need to rest. Doctor’s orders.” She stands and offers her hands out for Root.
Root wets her lips and follows with uncharacteristic silence.
Shaw lays down and tugs Root gently into her.
Root murmurs something that Shaw can’t hear.
“Say what?” she asks, almost afraid to move, to speak louder than a whisper. To spoil this moment of unspoken care, unusual gentleness, uncanny connection.
“You’re right, Sameen. I do love it when you play doctor.”
Shaw chuckles deep in her throat and rolls her eyes, glad Root can’t see her grin.
Sanvers & Supercorp College AU, Wayhaught, Kadena, and Shoot -- so many wlw ships, so little time
Sanvers College AU ft. nb!Alex (fifth installation) -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164466610224/heyy-cap-will-we-get-more-of-the-adorable-nbalex
Sanvers x Wayhaught crossover (Sanvers go to Purgatory, ft. trigger-happy Wynonna) -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164466102849/have-you-thought-about-a-sanverswayhaught
Kadena -- jealous!Kat needs reassurance from Adena (ft. Sutton and Jane) -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164465583589/can-you-do-a-jealous-kat-fanfic-please-with-adena
Supercorp College AU (ft. Kara’s first kiss) -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164465140424/cap-ive-been-so-busy-with-college-assignments
Shoot -- Root is depressed on a mission and Shaw is worried -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164464753579/root-has-a-depression-fit-while-on-a-mission-and
Sanvers x Shoot -- Alex’s number comes up, Root walks in on Sanvers -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164464208324/alexs-number-poi-meets-supergirl
Supergirl 2x15 Alternate Ending -- Alex gets tossed across the universe (spoiler: she makes it home) -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164463373159/coming-home-alt-post-2x15-alex-gets-tossed
Bonus:
Clashildr (Clara x Ashildr from Doctor Who) headcanons -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164463684264/do-you-have-any-clashildr-headcanons-asking-for-a
Pancakes v. Waffles -- https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/164463239654/quick-pancakes-or-waffles
She was built -- Root might say born, in one of her more sentimental moments -- to warn people.
Warn them of imminent death, of imminent danger.
Of imminent pain.
And she did her job well.
She warned Root with numbers, then with ascending and descending tones.
She warned her about which direction to shoot and she warned her whenever her latest cover was about to be blown.
She was good at warning Root.
Very good.
But what Root couldn’t understand?
Was why the Machine never warned her about falling in love.
Why the Machine never warned her about Shaw.
Never warned her about the way she’d become her sun and her moon and her stars, the way she’d become her battle symphony and her reason for... her... reason.
Never warned her what it would feel like when she was taken away.
Never warned her that she would devote herself to someone with no edges; someone who was all edges.
Never warned her that she wouldn’t know what to do when she stopped running. When she finally felt like she belonged.
They’ve had disagreements.
About who to kill, or -- from the Machine’s perspective -- who not to kill.
They’ve had disagreements about what was best for the team; what was best for the world. What was best for Root.
What was best for Shaw.
But the warning? Or, the lack of warning?
That was never one of their disagreements.
Root never blamed the Machine for not warning her.
Because if she had -- if she’d known what she’d have to endure for her, for Shaw, for something that felt an awful lot like something she never really believed existed -- she might have been afraid.
She might have pulled back.
She might have kept acting.
It seemed she was always acting anyway.
But with Shaw? With Sameen, with her beautiful girl with more scars than skin on her back, on her insides?
No warning, just leaping, was by far the best way to go.
