it’s a few months after the fourth of july, and they’ve fallen back into their… situationship. the whole casual sex that isn’t actually casual but that’s a discrepancy they refuse to address and properly label thing.
they get in a fight over something dumb. probably where to order dinner from. the stupidity of it doesn’t stop them from fighting, though.
they’re both mean. stubborn. clever. so they trade jabs, always knowing precisely where to aim for maximum impact.
after a particularly brutal exchange, trinity says, “i don’t know why we keep doing this.”
yolanda immediately knows what this means. “do you want to stop?”
“maybe. do you?”
“i asked you first.”
“i answered. maybe. depends.”
“on what?”
trinity decides to answer honestly, this once. no beating around the bush. “can you love me?”
“can you be loved?”
everything goes quiet after that.
“trinity,” yolanda tries when she realizes what she has said. how it is read. “trin.”
“no. don’t fucking trin me. you don’t get to call me unlovable and then try to remedy it with a nickname.”
“i did not call you unlovable.”
“really? because you implied that i can’t be loved.”
“because you won’t fucking let yourself be loved! every time someone tries to show you they care, you pull away!”
abbot asking who's taking primary surgery during the mci and this being the surgery department's reaction. emery knows her ass is going to have to do it. that's the face of acceptance.
every year, on the same day, trinity santos has to cut up an orange and eat the slices. it’s just something she does, has been since she lost her.
this is just how she grieves… celebrates? do you celebrate the anniversary of your best friend’s death? do you still celebrate her birthday? what about the day she would’ve graduated high school? the day she should’ve graduated high school.
anyways, here stands trinity, alone in the break room with an orange and a knife staring back at her from the counter in front of her. normally, she does this in the privacy of wherever she may be living, but she doesn’t live alone anymore… and she would rather get caught here, where she can just run off if questioned rather than having to answer to those, already sad, Nebraskan eyes.
of course, with her luck, he’s the one that catches her as she seemingly tries to explode the orange in front of her with her mind.
“… do you want me to slice that for you?”
“what?” now, maybe this was naive, but she hadn’t met anyone except Maria that sliced their oranges instead of peeling them. well, more accurately, since Maria, she hasn’t really cared to invest in anyone to the degree that she would know how they prefer their oranges.
“or, i could peel it… either way.”
“no, it’s okay. i have to cut it into slices.”
“why?”
trinity wants to run, she doesn’t want to talk about this. why does he ask? why does he care? ughhhhhhh
“uhhh, it’s just a habit i picked up from a friend. she would eat orange slices after every practice.”
please don’t ask-
“where’s your friend now?”
how can she twist this? what would Maria want her to say?
“i killed her.”
okay, probably not that. or would she find that funny? is it bad she doesn’t remember her best friend well enough to know?
“sorry, that wasn’t funny. umm… well, she’s… she’s just-“
“it’s fine, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, trinity.”
but i do. i promise that i do.
“good answer, huckleberry.”
“it’s just that… i was gonna grab an orange and cut it up into slices myself, so i have no problem cutting one for you.”
so he does, he cuts up two oranges, plating one for her and one for him… and surprisingly, even to herself, she lets him. they sit in silence and eat together fast because, well, they work in a busy emergency department and have already taken enough time away.
“thank you, for the orange slices.”
“no sweat, thanks for telling me about your friend. i hope to learn more.”
trinity falls asleep on the couch and rather than leave her there for the night, baran decides to put all of her yoga sessions to work and bends down to pick trinity up so she can carry her bridal style to the bedroom
she readjusts her grip on trinity and holds her close. trinity is half-awake now and burrows closer into baran’s warmth then mumbles something incoherent against baran’s skin as she winds her arms around baran’s neck
baran isn’t sure if trinity is even aware of what she’s doing or if she thinks she’s still dreaming. baran’s thoughts are answered when she hears a quiet little snore from where trinity’s face is pressed against her shoulder
having not carried a fully grown adult by herself before, baran is out of breath by the time she gently puts trinity down on the bed. she rolls her neck and stretches her arms up over her head and watches with a smile on her face as trinity’s body seeks out baran’s warmth again
baran brushes trinity’s hair back from her forehead and places a soft kiss there before tugging the blankets up and tucking trinity in
you can pry the notion that season 2 is set shortly after a major garsantos fight or miscommunication from my cold, dead hands. those are two people who care a lot and for each other and do show it but are explicitly bad at talking about how they feel.
the pitt smau with olympian!garcia, olympian!al-hashimi, one obsessively-tweeting stan account-running trinity santos, and her irls victoria, dennis and mel absolutely devouring it
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