Title: Every Meeting (A First Encounter)
Author: Sarken (sarken@gmail.com)
Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: The amazing thing is that Warner Bros. and NBC own both of these shows.
Author's note: Written for Fireworks, Femslash Today's Fourth of July Porn Battle. The prompt was "Crossover, ER/Third Watch, Susan Lewis/Faith Yokas, leaving." Title from the poem "All" by Bei Dao.
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When she takes Faith's hand at the morgue, it's more than fear -- more than fear of seeing Susie behind that glass, more than fear of leaving New York without a niece, maybe without a sister. Susan knows this is wrong; she shouldn't be thinking about this now. She tells herself it's a natural desire for comfort, and she raps her knuckles against the glass.
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Faith brings Susan coffee and joins her on the bench. She sits too close, their bodies touching from foot to knee to hip. There's nowhere to put her arm; she drapes it across Susan's shoulders. Faith knows the warmth from the coffee isn't the type of warmth Susan needs.
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Standing in the ER, the one that is nothing like County General, Susan stares at the empty trauma room. Her niece, her sister -- they're gone. They left her here, standing in the hallway with two cups of coffee, the heat of which is burning into her hands. She tries to be happy they're no longer missing, but she can't do it. She asks the nurses if they can get in touch with an Officer Faith Yokas.
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Faith shows up in street clothes, driving an expensive black pickup. Her hair is loose, still soaked from the shower she just leapt out of. She looks confused, worried, as she steps into the emergency room, keyring dangling from her hand. Susan shoves one of the coffees at her and they walk to the parking lot, Susan's bare hand wrapped in Faith's mittened one.
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In the parking lot at LaGaurdia, heat fogs the truck windows. Two empty coffee cups lie on the dashboard, toppled onto their sides, rolled toward the windshield. Faith has nothing on beneath her hoodie and Susan slides its zipper down. Straddling Faith on the bench seat, Susan takes off her jacket, sweater, shirt, and bra. Under all these layers, her skin still feels cold. Not Faith's, though. Her body is warm (her mouth even warmer) when Susan covers it with her own.
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Susan is on her back, naked against the heated leather seats. She can feel the truck idling, vibrating under her and intensifying every sensation. Her knees are bent and her hips are lifting up from the seat as Faith moves between Susan's thighs, sucking at her clit with a mouth Susan knows tastes of coffee from the doctor's lounge.
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Faith walks Susan through the parking lot, through the airport, all the way to the security checkpoint. She doesn't know what to say, partially because this place makes her think of her own very bad day, months ago now, when she stood there and watched the skyline change. Cold under her NYPD sweatshirt, Faith moves in and kisses Susan, pressing their bodies together -- hips, breasts, mouths, everything as close as they were in the truck. The taste of coffee is still there when they kiss, and it's still there when Faith walks away, hands in her pockets.
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