Until the Next Time
Title: Until the Next Time
Author:Tamoline
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Person of Interest
Pairing: Root/Shaw
Spoiler warning: Series 3, Trailer for Series 4
Summary: It’s another visit from Shaw’s favourite customer.
Notes: This is technically a continuation of Flowerpots and Trellises, but can be read in isolation.
“Sam!” Imelda called. “Your favourite customer is here.”
Shaw - no, not Shaw - *Sam* rolled her eyes. Exaggeratedly so, but Imelda didn’t know her well enough to get the joke. “Already?”
“She’s always here ten minutes early,” Imelda chided. “I don’t know why you don’t just start waiting at your stand then.”
Sam didn’t bother to explain that making Root wait was part of the fun, just shrugged and started walking over to where she was waiting. Imelda hooked a hand around her arm and she had to remind herself (again) that knocking her overly touchy supervisor to the floor was *not* what Sam would do. She couldn’t stop herself tensing and flinching away though.
“One day I’ll get you to stop reacting that way,” Imelda told her cheerfully, and Sam felt her hands *itch* with the need to do something about that little declaration, but she forced herself to remain still instead. “And why don’t you try a smile? She likes you already, no harm in seeing if you can get a better tip.”
That, at least, Sam could answer. “If she likes me, she probably hates smiles,” she said dryly. “Probably bring her out in hives.”
“Just an idea,” Imelda said, releasing her and giving her a cheerful little wave. “Think about it.”
As always, Root was facing away from her when she came into view. She was studying the different colours of nail polish with all seriousness, apparently oblivious to Sam’s presence, giving Sam a few seconds to just drink in her presence undisturbed. Wearing a dress that hugged her figure in all the right places, in a way that made Shaw imagine unzipping it and running her hand down Root’s naked back just a little too hard… Something within her tightened in anticipation, though she kept any trace of that from registering on her face.
Sam wouldn’t do that. Besides it was part of the game they liked to play.
When Root had evidently decided she’d had enough of a look, Root turned around and ran her gaze over Sam’s body with a devouring look in her eyes. “Sam. How wonderful to see you again,” she said not making any attempt to hide the flirtatious tone to her voice.
No wonder her colleagues were running a pool on her.
“We have you booked in for a manicure,” Sam said blandly. “What colour nail polish would you like?”
Root bit her lip and Sam really was going to roll her eyes if she continued being quite so ridiculous. Not that it wasn’t hot, but Sam did have standards.
“That one,” she said, pointing at a bottle near the bottom of the rack. Sam took her time bending up and down, letting the strain burn her legs pleasantly, feeling the weight of Root’s gaze on her ass as an almost physical caress. “Oh no,” Root pouted after she had retrieved the indicated bottle. “I meant the one next to it.”
“You couldn’t have told me that *before* I stood back up again,” Sam grumbled.
“No,” Root said, completely unrepentant. “I really couldn’t.”
This time, Sam *did* roll her eyes, though it didn’t stop her taking her time. “This good enough for you?”
“Yes,” Root sighed. “I guess it’ll have to be.”
“Then please sit down on the couch over there,” Sam said, and Root did as indicated without protest or comment and, yeah, that worked for Sam. It was certainly rare enough. She almost - almost - twitched her lips, but that’d be far too easy a victory for Root.
Sam sat down opposite her, and bent over her hands to work on them - filing and smoothing her nails and tidying her cuticles. Root’s hands were one of her weak points, and Sam took full advantage of that, gently massaging each finger as she worked on it, enjoying the warm heat that quickened within her every time Root twitched or sighed due to her ministrations. All the while, Sam refused to look up, enjoying the anticipation.
“And now for the massage,” she said. Sensitised by the slight intake of Root’s breath, she couldn’t help looking up to see Root’s eyes dark and wanting.
“Go on,” she breathed.
Sam started on the little finger, and moved in, all the while all-too conscious of the way that Root’s body was tensing and twitching as she did so. Finally, she reached the meaty part of Root’s right hand and was rewarded by a shuddering, an uncoiling within Root’s body, a quiet gasp and she couldn’t take it any more - she had to look back up at Root’s face, see her eyelids fluttering slightly, her pupils blown wide and let Root *see* the full force of how much Sam wanted this.
Root actually jerked a little away from the couch at that, before settling back down, and Sam experienced her own small explosion of pleasure in response. She took a moment to gather herself, take a breath and idly wonder if that had counted as a win for her or for Root, before deciding to chalk it up as a win for both of them.
Actually painting her nails was a gentle comedown from that peak, and Sam lingered a little over the last nail before pronouncing it done.
“A wonderful job, as always,” Root said, getting to her feet and retrieving several bills from her purse.
“Thank you,” Sam said, and watched her sway exaggeratedly away, and if Sam’s eyes followed *her* butt, she was certain she managed to conceal that fact from anyone else.
“Maybe I should get one of your manicures sometime,” Imelda observed as she sidled up. “She certainly looks like she enjoyed it enough.”
Sam shrugged.
“So…” Imelda said. “Did she give you her number this time?”
“No,” Sam said, feeling an unwanted pang of… something deep inside. It wasn’t safe for them to see each other in any other way, not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Damn it!” Imelda said. “I was sure she was going to have to this time. Maybe if you’d smiled.”
“How much did you lose?” Sam asked, forcing a mile to her lips.
“Does it really matter?” Imelda asked. “What counts is how much I could have *won*.”
Sam rolled her eyes and walked off, determined to enjoy the burn of Root’s visit for as long as she could.
Until the next time.
Author:Tamoline
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Person of Interest
Pairing: Root/Shaw
Spoiler warning: Series 3, Trailer for Series 4
Summary: It’s another visit from Shaw’s favourite customer.
Notes: This is technically a continuation of Flowerpots and Trellises, but can be read in isolation.
“Sam!” Imelda called. “Your favourite customer is here.”
Shaw - no, not Shaw - *Sam* rolled her eyes. Exaggeratedly so, but Imelda didn’t know her well enough to get the joke. “Already?”
“She’s always here ten minutes early,” Imelda chided. “I don’t know why you don’t just start waiting at your stand then.”
Sam didn’t bother to explain that making Root wait was part of the fun, just shrugged and started walking over to where she was waiting. Imelda hooked a hand around her arm and she had to remind herself (again) that knocking her overly touchy supervisor to the floor was *not* what Sam would do. She couldn’t stop herself tensing and flinching away though.
“One day I’ll get you to stop reacting that way,” Imelda told her cheerfully, and Sam felt her hands *itch* with the need to do something about that little declaration, but she forced herself to remain still instead. “And why don’t you try a smile? She likes you already, no harm in seeing if you can get a better tip.”
That, at least, Sam could answer. “If she likes me, she probably hates smiles,” she said dryly. “Probably bring her out in hives.”
“Just an idea,” Imelda said, releasing her and giving her a cheerful little wave. “Think about it.”
As always, Root was facing away from her when she came into view. She was studying the different colours of nail polish with all seriousness, apparently oblivious to Sam’s presence, giving Sam a few seconds to just drink in her presence undisturbed. Wearing a dress that hugged her figure in all the right places, in a way that made Shaw imagine unzipping it and running her hand down Root’s naked back just a little too hard… Something within her tightened in anticipation, though she kept any trace of that from registering on her face.
Sam wouldn’t do that. Besides it was part of the game they liked to play.
When Root had evidently decided she’d had enough of a look, Root turned around and ran her gaze over Sam’s body with a devouring look in her eyes. “Sam. How wonderful to see you again,” she said not making any attempt to hide the flirtatious tone to her voice.
No wonder her colleagues were running a pool on her.
“We have you booked in for a manicure,” Sam said blandly. “What colour nail polish would you like?”
Root bit her lip and Sam really was going to roll her eyes if she continued being quite so ridiculous. Not that it wasn’t hot, but Sam did have standards.
“That one,” she said, pointing at a bottle near the bottom of the rack. Sam took her time bending up and down, letting the strain burn her legs pleasantly, feeling the weight of Root’s gaze on her ass as an almost physical caress. “Oh no,” Root pouted after she had retrieved the indicated bottle. “I meant the one next to it.”
“You couldn’t have told me that *before* I stood back up again,” Sam grumbled.
“No,” Root said, completely unrepentant. “I really couldn’t.”
This time, Sam *did* roll her eyes, though it didn’t stop her taking her time. “This good enough for you?”
“Yes,” Root sighed. “I guess it’ll have to be.”
“Then please sit down on the couch over there,” Sam said, and Root did as indicated without protest or comment and, yeah, that worked for Sam. It was certainly rare enough. She almost - almost - twitched her lips, but that’d be far too easy a victory for Root.
Sam sat down opposite her, and bent over her hands to work on them - filing and smoothing her nails and tidying her cuticles. Root’s hands were one of her weak points, and Sam took full advantage of that, gently massaging each finger as she worked on it, enjoying the warm heat that quickened within her every time Root twitched or sighed due to her ministrations. All the while, Sam refused to look up, enjoying the anticipation.
“And now for the massage,” she said. Sensitised by the slight intake of Root’s breath, she couldn’t help looking up to see Root’s eyes dark and wanting.
“Go on,” she breathed.
Sam started on the little finger, and moved in, all the while all-too conscious of the way that Root’s body was tensing and twitching as she did so. Finally, she reached the meaty part of Root’s right hand and was rewarded by a shuddering, an uncoiling within Root’s body, a quiet gasp and she couldn’t take it any more - she had to look back up at Root’s face, see her eyelids fluttering slightly, her pupils blown wide and let Root *see* the full force of how much Sam wanted this.
Root actually jerked a little away from the couch at that, before settling back down, and Sam experienced her own small explosion of pleasure in response. She took a moment to gather herself, take a breath and idly wonder if that had counted as a win for her or for Root, before deciding to chalk it up as a win for both of them.
Actually painting her nails was a gentle comedown from that peak, and Sam lingered a little over the last nail before pronouncing it done.
“A wonderful job, as always,” Root said, getting to her feet and retrieving several bills from her purse.
“Thank you,” Sam said, and watched her sway exaggeratedly away, and if Sam’s eyes followed *her* butt, she was certain she managed to conceal that fact from anyone else.
“Maybe I should get one of your manicures sometime,” Imelda observed as she sidled up. “She certainly looks like she enjoyed it enough.”
Sam shrugged.
“So…” Imelda said. “Did she give you her number this time?”
“No,” Sam said, feeling an unwanted pang of… something deep inside. It wasn’t safe for them to see each other in any other way, not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Damn it!” Imelda said. “I was sure she was going to have to this time. Maybe if you’d smiled.”
“How much did you lose?” Sam asked, forcing a mile to her lips.
“Does it really matter?” Imelda asked. “What counts is how much I could have *won*.”
Sam rolled her eyes and walked off, determined to enjoy the burn of Root’s visit for as long as she could.
Until the next time.