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A whirring blender separated them, chunks of steak getting torn to shreds in a contained storm that mirrored the fury swirling in Shaw’s eyes as she glared at Root while keeping one finger firmly on the pulverize button. Every time Root parted her lips to utter another probably useless apology, Shaw just shook her head before even so much as a hint of a sound could escape. Almost a full minute this went on — Root had the Machine ticking a countdown in her head — until the blender stopped and Shaw broke away to slam dishes around the makeshift kitchen.
Without Shaw’s eyes rendering her immovable, Root blinked rapidly and rushed through her planned speech. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was there!” she said, leaning her hands on the tabletop. “She probably won’t even remember, and you can’t stay mad at me forever.”
Shaw scoffed at that last bit as she poured mostly-pureed meat into a bowl but otherwise didn’t respond.
"Sameen, please," Root sighed and slipped around the table corner, cautious in her approach. Her lips pursed as she reached a hesitant hand to Shaw’s shoulder, only to have it shaken off roughly. She flung her head back, arms up, and groaned in frustration. "It’s not actually my fault that your daughter’s an escape artist!"
Shaw whipped around and Root edged back a step. “I told you!” she growled. “I told you, only when Reese has her! Or Finch! Or even Fusco!” Without looking, she grabbed a tiny spoon and shoved it into the bowl. “But oh no, you insisted that it’d be okay. And I listened!” She grabbed the bowl and stalked off through the subway, toward the sound of giggling and clinking of toys.
Root ran a hand shakily through her hair and followed after a few moments, and could only smile at the sight of Parisa gumming away at bits of steak, streaks of red forming at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes visibly lit up as Root walked into view and she started clapping her hands together, interrupting Shaw’s attempts at delivering another spoonful.
"I swear to God, Root…" Shaw muttered, turning her head slightly to scowl over her shoulder.
Root held her hands up in defense, then crouched next to Shaw. “Temporary truce?” she asked with a pouty frown. “I wouldn’t want Parisa to see her moms fighting.”
Shaw’s jaw dropped slightly. “But it’s okay to see us otherwise occupied?!”
"Well, no…" Root dragged out, drumming fingers on her knees. "Not much we can do about that now, can we?"
Before Shaw could snarl out another condemnation of their earlieractivities, Parisa clapped her hands again and gurgled out something that sounded an awful lot like buzzing. Root and Shaw stared at her for a moment as she giggled, then made the sound again.
"Did she just…?" Shaw mumbled, setting the bowl aside to grab a towel and mop Parisa’s chin.
Root paused, slack-jawed, then shook her head slowly and gulped. “T-The Machine says babies make all sorts of noise,” she whispered. “I’m sure it was just—”
"Taysher!" Parisa babbled, then leaned over to try and grab for the spoon.
Root’s instinct was to laugh, hard, but the murder pouring from Shaw’s eyes pushed her to briefly reconsider. “Oh, come on, Sam!” she said, her lips quivering with barely-contained mirth. “You have to admit, that was kind of fitting.”
"My daughter’s first word is taser and you find this funny?!” Shaw growled and pounced at her, hands poised to strangle. One leg kicked out as she landed on top of a now-laughing Root and upended the bowl, spraying steak bits everywhere.
Parisa’s giggling and clapping provided the soundtrack for their wrestling match, though it wasn’t much of one considering Root could barely breathe through her own cackling. She quickly found herself trapped with Shaw straddling her hips and flicking her nose, which only made her laugh harder.
They heard heavy footsteps come from the entrance and paused in their tussle to turn and look in tandem, only to find Finch staring at them with his arms wrapped around a grocery bag. “Did… Is everything all right?”
Shaw pushed off Root, climbed to her feet, and strode past him, clapping him on the shoulder as she moved. “Root!” she barked.
Root jumped up and gave Finch a little grin as she followed in Shaw’s footsteps. “Your turn, Harry! We’ll be a while!”
"Oh my…" Finch said as he surveyed with widened eyes the mess he’d been left to clean up. Or not, perhaps, as Bear had already started licking up every scrap of food in sight, including the bits that clung to a still-giggly Parisa herself.