Chapter Text
Julie tries really hard to focus on the numbers strung together on the big screen. It’s a pretty entry level code and she knows that something obvious is wrong with it, but she can’t pinpoint what exactly. The more she stares at the slide show, the more the numbers start swimming and sliding off.
She is tired. That’s what you get for majoring in computer science and minoring in biology.
Honestly, the computer science major usually isn’t the problem here, but the biology class is currently kicking her ass. She sighs quietly and tries to refocus her eyes on the code.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you guys suck at coding, but I’ve been your teacher for the last couple of months, so there’s really no way that’s possible.”
Her professor’s obvious dig snaps her out of her spiral and Julie gives up on the slideshow to look at her instead. Root is sitting crisscross applesauce on top of her desk, her hands busying themselves with the remote for the projector and she doesn’t look all that amused.
The thing about Root is that she’s by far the chillest prof you can have at Harvard. She makes her lectures fun and engaging, leaving enough room for initiative and hands-on learning for the students. Her assignments are fair and never too demanding, a perfect balance. At the same time she manages to be a little unhinged and weird, but in a quirky way. Often the lectures drift completely off topic and she shares random stories about her personal life and wife, who judging by all the anecdotes, sounds a little unhinged too. Even though they end up discussing the most random things that have nothing to do with coding or programming, they tend to be ahead of schedule.
So seeing Root with a disappointed frown on her face is jarring and something Julie doesn't want a repeat of anytime soon.
The class is uncharacteristically quiet. There’s less students present than normal, which is a pretty telling sign that something is off. People love her classes, because they feel more like yap sessions. Root holds the average attendance record at the school.
Julie’s eyes drift towards the open tab on her laptop, her lab report that’s still missing 8 pages and 5 sources is taunting her. It’s due tomorrow.
“Alright kids, spill.” Root demands finally.
Julie takes mercy on her. A quick look around confirms that most of the missing classmates are all enrolled in biology as well and a bunch of the ones that are present and staring bleary eyed at the front are too. “Quite a few of us are taking bio and we have a huge lab report due tomorrow that’s, to put it frankly, kicking our asses.”
Understanding flashes across Root’s face and her gaze zeros in on Julie. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Shaw’s class?”
Her voice drops a bit at the name of her arch nemesis on campus. Root and Shaw have this ongoing public beef nobody fully grasps, but everybody finds amusing. Two hot female professors in their thirties who like to publicly comment on each other’s teaching styles in a rather passive aggressive way.
Julie just nods to confirm.
Root rises from her position on top of the desk and hops off. “Massive lab report with very little notice, that does sound like her.” She points the remote at the projector to shut it down for good. For some odd reason she smiles. “She does have a sociopathic streak.”
Julie’s eyes flick to the clock, they have 15 minutes left in the lecture. “You’re dismissed, guys. Use the time to work on your assignment or to catch some Zs, I don’t care.” Root starts gathering her things.
That seems to finally wake the students up. “But we have time left?” Someone asks.
“Josh, do you not know common college etiquette? When a lecture ends early, you don’t ask questions, you accept it and remember to give a five star rating when the end of course evaluations roll around, understood?” Root says flatly.
“My name isn’t Josh.” Root ignores him.
Julie takes the opportunity to shoot a grateful smile towards her teacher. “Thanks, Root, you’re the best.”
Root slings her backpack over her shoulders and grabs the helmet for her motorcycle.
“Don’t thank me yet, thank me after I’ve successfully convinced Shaw to give y’all an extension.”
The whole group of students stops in their tracks. It’s almost comical.
"You’re going to ask Shaw for an extension on our behalf?” Someone asks.
“Yup.” Root says with a confident smile.
“No offense, prof, but how on earth are you going to achieve that?” Someone else asks. “She kinda hates you.” More people chime in. “You’d have to bribe her.”
Root takes it all in stride, her smile slowly shifting into a downright smirk. She reaches the door and turns towards them. “Just trust me guys, I have my ways.”
She winks — or attempts to — and slips out the door.
By the time Sameen Shaw crosses the threshold of her home, she can tell that something is up. There’s a distinct smell in the air, a record is playing and the lights are dimmed. Every person with at least two brain cells could piece together that someone in this household is trying very hard.
And after 11 years of being with her wife, Shaw knows exactly what’s happening here. This is Root’s go-to seduction technique. The smell indicates a takeout order from Shaw’s favorite restaurant on the other side of town. The record playing is the Queen is dead by the Smiths, a classic in Shaw’s usual rotation. The dimmed lights are a pretty common occurrence, but add to the cozy vibe.
Shaw closes the door to the garage behind her, hangs her keys on their designated hook and flings her coat to the side. Before she can take off her shoes Bear trots around the corner to greet her. She takes her time getting out of her boots and shows him some love.
“Do you know what she's up to?” She asks into his neck.
“Why do you always assume I’m up to something, sweetie?” Root’s voice reaches her.
Root has appeared down the hall, she's leaning casually against the wall there. She’s watching her little family with a fond expression on her face. Shaw doesn’t bother looking up yet, she’s still massaging Bear’s head with thorough technique.
“Well let me bring you up to speed.” Shaw slowly gets up from her crouched down position and seeks eye contact. “I can smell the saffron and cardamom, the Smiths are playing and…” She finally takes in her wife’s face. And her glasses.
“Fuck me.”
“Well, I was going to save that for dessert, but if you insist, we can skip the rest.” Root immediately counters with excitement. “Good evening to you too!”
Root’s quick wit and ridiculous flirting skills are some of her worst and best qualities. Shaw couldn't stand all of it at first, but eventually — through years of exposure therapy — she has grown accustomed to it. Doesn't mean she takes all of it in stride all the time though. Occasionally she silently judges herself for falling for such a menace.
“You’re wearing your glasses.” Shaw says.
“Quite the observer, aren’t we?” Root counters. She’s still leaning against the wall, her frame illuminated by the dim lighting. She's still in her work clothes, a blouse in deep maroon and dark slacks. Light brown waves cascade down over her shoulders, a light blush dusts her cheeks and her glasses make her eyes appear larger, almost doe-like. Shaw’s biggest weakness might be those stupid fucking glasses and they both know it.
Shaw has never felt a lot growing up with a personality disorder. It has taken years of therapy and a lot of work on herself to finally better grasp the concept of feelings. She learned how to process her emotions better by figuring out a way to actively listen to the quiet murmurs in her subconscious. Filtering through the feelings and emotions that are there, just quiet or even silent. The hard work paid off and while some emotions remain a mystery to her, others are quite familiar now. The most prominent one being Root.
A more accurate term would be love, but Shaw can’t fully bring herself to reduce her wife to just that. She’s so much more than that. It’s hard to explain, but all those things average people associate with love, Shaw just associates with Root. Love isn’t her thing, but Root is. Seeing her wife in the soft glow of their shared home with her trademark I-just-propositioned-my-wife smirk does something to Shaw, all she hears echoing through her whole chest is home, comfort. She has to swallow a lump down her throat that just appeared out of nowhere. When did she get so sappy? Back to business at hand.
“Going out on a limb here and assuming you’re trying to seduce me?” Shaw asks as she slowly approaches her wife. "Am I on to something here?"
Root is still smirking, her eyes tracking up and down Shaw’s body. “Can’t a girl just do something nice for her wife every once in a while without being accused of an ulterior motive?”
Shaw snorts, reaches her and raises her hand to push the glasses up Root’s nose teasingly. “Admit it, you are trying to seduce me.” Her hand slowly wanders and brushes a strand of hair behind Root’s ear. All while Shaw holds eye contact.
“Well, I suddenly feel like you’re trying to seduce ME.” Root replies, her eyes dropping to her wife’s lips.
“Ha! So you admit that you’re doing it.” Shaw accusingly pushes a finger into Root’s chest. Root catches her wrist and moves it to the side, so Shaw’s hand is now fully cupping one of her breasts over the fabric of her shirt.
“Is it working?” Root asks teasingly.
Shaw doesn’t waste a second and squeezes a little which catches Root off guard and makes her yelp in surprise. “You’re a menace.” Shaw says.
“Your menace.” Root corrects and slips her arms around her wife’s frame.
Shaw gives in and meets her for a kiss. It’s not an average coming home from work kiss, Root wastes no time going all in, targeting Shaw’s bottom lip. A quick nip and when Shaw sighs into it, Root’s tongue slips into her mouth with practiced precision. Her hands start wandering to the hem of Shaw’s shirt, a clear path in mind.
Shaw lets her and in return pushes her body weight further into Root, effectively backing her wife fully into the wall. Root sighs contentedly and runs her fingers over Shaw’s waist now under her shirt. Shaw detaches their lips and starts kissing a path from the corner of Root’s mouth all the way down to her neck. Root responds eagerly, tilting her head to give better access. Shaw is exactly where she wants to be and could spend hours eliciting soft moans and sighs from her wife, but apparently not tonight. The smell of their dinner hits her and her stomach instinctively reacts with a loud growl. Ruining the mood instantly. Shaw groans in frustration. Root snickers and draws out a last little peck to Shaw’s lips. She angles her head away, letting Shaw chase the air between them.
“Sounds like somebody doesn’t want to skip dinner after all.” Root says, sounding a little out of breath. “I guess dessert can wait.” Her hands stay exactly where they were before, tracing small patterns on Shaw’s skin just under the fabric.
Shaw breathes in the thick air between them, trying to come down from the momentary rush. Her stomach couldn’t have picked a worse time to betray her, but it also wouldn’t be the first time that a version of this scenario has happened.
“Okay. Dinner it is.” Shaw decides. She backs away. “But those glasses have to come off.”
Root pushes off the wall and leads them into the kitchen. She smiles wickedly and reaches for the specs. “But honey, glasses generally exist to enhance vision. How am I supposed to stare at my hot wife and fully appreciate her beauty over dinner?"
Shaw reaches the fridge and retrieves a bottle of chilled beer. Her eyes roll automatically. A habit she has never been able to shake, no matter how much her wife’s antics have actually developed from being annoying to endearing. It’s just muscle memory at this point.
"Or how am I supposed to eat my dinner if I can't see?" Root doubles down.
They both know Root doesn’t actually need glasses. She wears them because of their blue light filter to actively avoid ruining her eyesight from staring at screens all day. Shaw levels her with a hard stare while opening her beer.
“Fine.” Root relents and places them on the kitchen counter. She does crack quite easily under Shaw’s stare, much to Shaw’s delight.
The food is already plated and just waiting for them on the kitchen island, Shaw rounds the countertop and pulls out both barstools, she waits for Root to sit down first and places a quick kiss to her shoulder as she sits down herself, beer in hand. Root beams at her and hands her a fork. They're very in sync.
"Thanks for dinner." Shaw says.
“You're so very welcome. So, how was your day, pookie?” Root asks just as Shaw takes her first bite of Tahdig.
She’s used to terms of endearment and pet names coming from her wife and yes — sometimes Root gets very creative, but it has never been this bad. Shaw’s entire body has a physical reaction to it and recoils, she chokes on her bite and fully gags.
“Do not call me that again.” She manages to get out while coughing. Root’s face displays instant regret and she apologetically rubs her hand over Shaw’s back, patting a bit in an attempt to help clear her airway. “I’m serious. Instant ground for divorce.”
“You’re right, that one was really bad.” Root actually shudders. “Noted.”
They both enjoy a few bites in comfortable silence, before Shaw picks the conversation back up. “You know, today was actually a pretty decent day, at least until I got home and my wife set up an elaborate seducing scheme. So now I’m wondering, what did you do? Did you break something?”
She eyes the entire space with suspicion, trying to make out if anything is out of order. Root has the audacity to act all sheepish and avoids meeting Shaw’s eyes.
“Please, that was one time!" Root says defensively as she eats a forkful of her own meal. "The freezer was an accident.”
“Did you touch any of my guns?” Shaw asks with a slight bite in her tone, all while still shoveling food into her mouth.
“Well, honey, what’s mine is yours and the other way around, so technically they’re our guns.” Root supplies. “But no, I didn’t.”
Shaw scoffs. Before she can comment, Root puts on a seductive smirk and comes clean.“I wanted to ask you for a favor and figured you’d appreciate a nice dinner and atmosphere in return.”
This stumps Shaw. “A favor?”
“Yes, a favor, Sam.”
Shaw pauses mid bite. She can't remember ever doing her wife a favor. They don’t do favors. They just do. They don't really keep score like that. And also they generally don't ask. Especially Root, she just acts impulsively and later asks for forgiveness instead or pretends that it was for the greater good.
“We’re married, I feel like we don’t really do favors.” Shaw furrows her brow in confusion and turns to fully look at Root. “You ask. I do it. That’s how this works.” She thought after 11 years she finally understood how their relationship worked, but apparently she’s gotten it wrong?
Root just stares at her blankly, smirk wiped off her face.
“And that goes both ways. I ask and you do things for me. Without fail.” Shaw adds. “I don’t understand. I never figured our relationship was transactional like that.”
Root looks at her, really looks at her. Her doe eyes slightly widened. Shaw could lose herself in them. A small smile slowly spreads across Root’s face and she looks almost shy. Affection is written all over her features.
“You’re so romantic, even when you’re not trying to be.” Root says softly. She reaches out to brush her hand across Shaw’s cheek. “You’re right, we don’t do favors.”
“But in this case I kinda need you to do something you're not going to like, so it feels like I’m asking for a favor.” Root explains. "Hence the wining and dining." She weakly gestures towards the food.
Shaw sighs. She shrugs off Root’s other hand and shoves another forkful of rice into her mouth.
“Just rip the band-aid off and spill, babe.”
Her biggest weakness might be Root’s stupid glasses, but contrary to that she knows that Root’s biggest weakness are any pet names directed back at her. Babe has the desired effect and Root visibly perks up.
“How important is that lab report you assigned in Bio 330?” Root asks.
Now what does a lab report have to do with anything? Shaw frowns in confusion. “This is not at all where I thought this was going.” She chews thoughtfully.
"Well?" Root pokes.
Shaw rolls her eyes, but answers." They were being incredibly annoying brats and didn't pay any attention last class, so I gave them something to occupy their minds with."
Shaw shrugs and goes back to her food. "Why are we talking about work?"
Root swallows down some rice before considering her next words.
"You know how I actually care about having good attendance and participation in my classes, right?" She starts. "Well, I can't have that, if you occupy my students with meaningless assignments."
Shaw drops her fork and turns back to her wife. She's offended.
"Meaningless?" She says. "Please, babe, the lab report is a direct consequence for slacking in class, it's an appropriate response to the students' behavior. And it's actually good preparation for the subject matter we're discussing next." She tried hard to keep her voice level. She didn't come home looking for a fight.
Root has the audacity to roll her eyes a little bit, but she is smart enough to not critique Shaw's teaching methods further.
"Okay not meaningless, I get that, but very demanding, is it not?" She absentmindedly starts playing with a loose strand of Shaw's hair. "Some of the students we share, were fully melting down in my class and not fully there. I think you broke them, Sam. I prefer my little ones focused and sharp."
“Focused? I keep hearing about you going off topic every lecture.” Shaw bites back. She watches as Root keeps twirling the strand of her hair.
Root has an immediate comeback. "It’s fun, keeps them more engaged if you throw them a bone occasionally. They like coming back for more. You’re welcome to sit in and see for yourself." Suddenly Root perks up and her eyes sparkle in excitement. "Oh God, yes, please come and judge my teaching methods!"
"Sit in on your lecture and hear you go off about trivial things?" Shaw scoffs. "What is it you actually talk about, I get very mixed reviews."
Root chuckles and searches for eye contact. "To be honest, probably you. I love talking about you." She says the last part with so much sincerity, Shaw forgets she was irritated 5 seconds ago.
"Me?"
"Yes, Sam, you." Root drops Shaw's hair and retrieves her fork. "I mean, I obviously don't say your name or make it obvious, but I share some anecdotes from time to time."
It’s not like they started working at Harvard thinking “hey let’s keep our relationship a secret and pretend to hate each other” but it kinda did play out like that. Nobody asked, made their own assumptions and now they’ve been essentially living a lie for the last 5 years.
They are not really sure where it all started, but there are a few key things that might factor into why people don’t see them as a couple.
From day one they’ve been using different means of transportation to and from campus. Since their schedules don’t always align and they have different after work routines and commitments, it just makes sense like that. And also Root really loves her bike and Shaw her Mustang, so carpooling just isn’t really their thing.
Maybe people don’t catch on, because they tend to be a bit standoffish in public. Shaw has never been one for overt and blatant PDA and while Root does get a kick out of it, she really respects professional boundaries on campus. PDA does happen, but mostly off campus, far away from prying eyes. To the untrained eye their banter might seem mean and distant, but to each other and their small circle of friends, it’s blatantly obvious that they’re flirting and in love, disgustingly so. It’s been their love language from day one.
They live outside of Cambridge, not anywhere near campus. So the chances of students running into them and seeing them on errands together are incredibly low. Years ago they bid city life goodbye to settle down on a big property with yard space for Bear and enough room for some of Shaw’s hobbies. Most notably they’ve set up a small shooting range and repurposed an old barn into a massive home gym. Their property is off the radar enough to not draw any suspicion, because somewhere in the back of the property they have a big ass antenna set up for some of Root's not so legal side hustles.
Their wedding bands aren’t overtly matching. If you pay close attention and see them next to each other, you can totally see how they compliment each other and work together, but apart they don’t seem like a pair. Something that could be said about Root and Shaw as individuals as well.
"God, you're so obsessed with me, it's actually disgusting." Shaw grumbles, but she does a horrible job of keeping the affection out of her statement.
Root grins and squeezes Shaw's bicep. "Disgustingly cute."
Of course, Shaw rolls her eyes. "So hypothetically, if I ever sit in on a class — just to make sure you don't spill all of our family secrets — you’re not allowed to wear your glasses."
Root grins. "You know what, I love that even after 11 years, those are still your biggest turn on.”
"I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Shaw deadpans and scrapes the last of her meal together.
"It’s okay, sweetie, it’s perfectly normal. It’s kinda how I feel about you whenever you hold a gun or come back all sweaty from a workout or when you try to be quiet when I do that thing with my t…”
“I get it.” Shaw interrupts. "How did we end up here?"
"I believe I was just about to ask you to give your students an extension." Root pouts. "Pretty please."
Shaw sighs. "I don’t do extensions, Root, you know that. I run a strict program.”
"I kinda promised them you would."
"Root." Shaw groans. Her hand shoots up to her forehead and starts rubbing there in frustration. Her wife is actively taking years from her life expectancy.
"Sorry, sweetie. But to quote your own words from earlier: we don't do favors, we just do, so I guess…" She shrugs.
"Really?" Shaw draws her mouth into a sharp line and sends a death glare right into her wife's open expression. “How would I even explain an extension like that, out of the blue?"
“Be honest and say your hot wife let you hit.” Root shrugs again.
"I will not do that." Shaw rolls her eyes.
"Then you better come up with something else." When Shaw tries to interject and complain, she doubles down. "I wined and dined you and I prepared dessert, so please, Sam. Do it for me." She puts on her biggest, saddest puppy eyes and Shaw curses herself for feeling her resolve melt away.
So much for not having feelings.
"Technically we were interrupted earlier, so I haven't gotten my fill yet." Shaw says.
Root swiftly slides off her stool, grabs their empty plates and disposes them in the sink. She has mischief written all over her face. Shaw senses a devious plan is in the works.
"Actually, remember how I promised you dessert?" She reaches for the oven door, which confuses Shaw. "I prepared something I know you'll love, but you'll only get it if you send the extension email within the next hour or so."
Shaw swallows in anticipation. She has no idea where this is going, but knowing Root, she definitely has a few tricks up her sleeve. Tricks Shaw will undoubtedly enjoy.
Root reaches into the oven and pulls out a huge chocolate soufflé, it's steaming and Shaw wonders how on earth she hadn't smelled it before, because right now her senses are being assaulted by the smell of sugary goodness. She licks her lips.
"For me?" She asks.
"All for you." Root confirms. She places a can of whipped cream next to the dessert.
"You can have this with the soufflé, but I advise you to save some for me later."
"Cake or cream?" Shaw asks like in a trance. Her eyes fully focused on the chocolate soufflé.
Root snickers at Shaw's unintentional innuendo. "Depends what you want to use in the bedroom later. I suppose the chocolate would make a mess of the sheets, but we have some experience with cream, don't we?"
Julie has composed 4 different text drafts to beg her biology professor for an extension. Shaw doesn’t do extensions, everyone knows this, but Julie has to try. There’s no way she can finish 3 more pages in time. The deadline is less than an hour away.
Her attempts to appeal to her teacher’s humanity rank from downright begging to hardcore professional, promising to never miss a lecture again. None of this will do. She sighs and closes out of her email drafts to go back to her assignment. All her devices are on do not disturb for a reason, but at this point she has given up and reaches for her phone.
Upon unlocking it she’s immediately bombarded with an armada of text messages, most of them in the bio group chat. On high alert she opens the thread and gathers that she should check her emails. The words extension and holy shit catch her eye.
[From]:[email protected]
[Time]: 09:03 pm
[To]: [email protected]
[Subject]: BIOL 330 – Lab Report Deadline
The deadline for the lab report has been extended.
New due date: Friday, 5:00 PM.
Plan accordingly.
Shaw
Julie’s jaw drops and hangs open for a solid minute, before she fully registers the implications of this. There’s simply no way. Shaw doesn’t do extensions. Maybe it’s a prank or a test. Yeah that’s it — Shaw is testing them!
Stunned, she realizes that while focusing so hard on the assignment she also missed a second message in her inbox, a direct reply to Shaw’s extension.
[From]:[email protected]
[Time]: 09:22 pm
[To]: [email protected]
[Subject]: Re: BIOL 330 – Lab Report Deadline
you’re welcome! ;)
xo, Root
What the fuck?