Work Text:
"Pavlov’s dog is a psychological experiment about classical conditioning, which occurs when a subject learns to respond automatically to a specific cue after it is repeatedly paired with a predictable reward."
The first time happens a few weeks after they start hooking up.
They’re standing by the entrance of Garcia’s apartment, pulling off boots, jackets and scarves. When Garcia finally sheds the last of her outerwear, standing there in nothing but scrubs, hair disheveled and exhaustion etched into her face, Santos turns towards her and makes this…face.
Upturned eyes, lips slightly parted, the middle of her brows drawn together in some type of plea.
Garcia stares at her for a long moment before stepping inside the kitchen and returning with a warm cup of tea. Santos thanks her for it and the look disappears.
But something about the interaction feels off.
The next time it happens they’re in the middle of watching a movie. Some romcom with Ryan Gosling and the dude from The Office. Garcia just happens to glance over to realize that Santos is giving her that…look again.
Her mind rushes then, running through several possibilities when she gets up and goes into the kitchen. She returns with a bowl full of popcorn and gingerly hands it over to Santos like some form of offering.
Santos accepts it, munching down happily.
But still, something about the exchange feels…unsatisfying. Garcia frowns throughout the rest of the movie, making sure to face the screen so that Santos doesn’t see.
After that it’s in her Lexus just as they split off before work. This time, Santos turns towards her, shifting her whole body just as she removes her seatbelt.
And there it is again, that look.
That damn face with the upturned eyes that seem to expect something from her, quizzing her on something that she’s clearly failing. Garcia wants to shake her and ask the unwritten part out loud, ‘What? What do you want?!’
So, Garcia leans over the center console where she notices that Santos’ eyes grow wide, then wraps her arms around the younger woman in a quick hug.
She lets go quickly after, pulling back in slight embarrassment, then studies her face. Santos is blushing, sure, but still, some part of her looks almost…disappointed as she mumbles a quick ‘Bye’ and escapes out the door.
Fuck.
The answer finally arrives when they go back to Garcia’s after one particularly bad shift, and spend the next few hours getting lost in each other’s bodies.
Garcia hovers over a spent and worn Santos, breath coming out in rapid puffs as she wrings her almost numb arm. Santos looks up at her and once more, gives her the look.
And maybe it’s the aftermath of the sexual intimacy, maybe she’s just tired of guessing what that look means and being wrong, or maybe she just wants to wipe it from her face.
Whatever the reason, this time Garcia leans down and presses a soft kiss on her lips.
When she pulls away, Santos gives her a small, satisfied smile.
Ah.
There it is.
Then having figured out the logic of the look, it happens again and again. Once when she’s cooking, Santos tugging at her apron with the look on her face, and Garcia turns towards her and presses a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth, reveling in the gratified smile that comes after.
It happens when Santos decides she’s done with review questions for the night.
When they wake up tangled in bed together, still groggy with sleep.
When Garcia is trying to read in peace and Santos apparently decides that peace is overrated.
Even when they’re brushing their teeth side by side, toothpaste foam smeared across both their faces.
Since Garcia discovered the look, she’s kissed Santos hundreds of times over, to the point that the response isn’t even a conscious thought anymore.
It’s a reflex.
Which is what makes what happens today especially troubling.
The day starts like any other, they wake, the look, they get ready for work, the look, they split at the garage with Garcia giving her a five minute buffer, the look.
And the work day is…loathe as she is to say it, peaceful. Not quiet, never quiet. There’s still a waiting room packed full of people, and patients shoved into hallways, surgeries to be completed and a trauma bay with rolling occupants, but nothing goes catastrophically wrong today.
Maybe that’s why she doesn’t think twice about walking over to Santos when a consult turns out to be benign. Santos is by the central hub, leaning against the nurses’ station and chatting merrily with Princess and Dana. The tall, curly haired med student and McKay are hanging nearby, with the resident gesturing towards the computer as he nods along.
She bumps shoulders with her secret…situationship, not so abruptly intruding on their conversation. The conversation pauses, the topic left in the air as Garcia pretends to study the board above them and listen in. When she finally looks down, Santos turns towards her, a suppressed half-smile on her face when she gives her the look.
And due to some out-of-body spirit that Garcia fully blames on today’s horoscope.
‘Today, Virgo, trust your impulse.’
Garcia leans in and gives her a kiss.
It’s a quick peck, just the barest brush of their lips. But that doesn’t really matter when they’re in the middle of the ED and their faces are pressed against each other.
Garcia freezes during the kiss, then stiltedly pulls away slowly. Maybe if she moves slow enough, everyone around her will stop perceiving her. Santos’ face is in a shocked daze, but a moment later the same approving smile grows as her cheeks flush red.
Around them is a different story, Princess’ jaw drops wide open, the phone in her hand forgotten as a tinny voice comes out the speaker calling for her. Dana has a single eyebrow raised, one arm hanging on her hip and watching Garcia like a hawk. From the corner of her eye, she sees McKay biting her lip and stifling a laugh. Looking down just slightly, Garcia finds the woman giving her a discreet thumbs up. The tall intern was gaping, but he turns his head the second she catches him, suddenly finding the copier in the corner of the room incredibly interesting.
Ignoring their gazes, Garcia clears her throat, takes two steps back then pivots and rushes off to the elevator.
It barely takes half an hour for news to find its way upstairs. Walsh punches her in the arm with a self-righteous smirk. “Didn’t know you were one for PDA, Garcia?” She laughs.
It’s all Garcia can do to glare at her, but it’s clear Walsh can’t take her seriously when her face is lit up like a firetruck.
When the day finally ends, she meets Santos at her car. Leaning against her doorframe, Santos walks over with a smug smile.
And just as they meet, Santos does it again.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“Don’t play pretend with me. I know what you’re doing."
Santos laughs incredulously, head tilting in confusion.
“What am I doing exactly?”
“You’re making that face.” Garcia frowns, petulantly.
“This is just my face, Yolanda.”
“No, it’s not. You have a look.”
“A look?”
“Yes, the look. The same one in the ED when I-” Garcia sighs in exasperation.
Santos looks a little concerned now, traces of amusement falling from her face.
“I didn’t know there was a look?” She says sincerely.
Garcia’s lips straighten into a thin line.
“There is definitely a look and I- You’ve conditioned me with it.”
Santos considers this for a moment then shrugs.
“I’m not sure. I was just thinking about how pretty you looked and how nice it would be to kiss you.” She admits with a shy flush.
Garcia’s heart stutters at the confession and she bites back a groan.
“And then you go and kiss me. I honestly thought you were just psychic.”
Garcia opens her mouth to argue, but closes it when nothing comes out. With a long-suffering sigh, she glares playfully at Santos. Santos just bites her lip mischievously and once more…gives her the look.
Garcia rolls her eyes.
Then she grabs Santos by the shoulder, flips them around and kisses her long and hard against the frame of the car.
Santos smiles against her mouth in response.
Hmm.
There it is.
Conditioning or not, some habits are worth keeping.