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Chapter Text

Jack was outside of his comfort zone. This whole thing had been an exercise in being outside of his comfort zone. It was rare that he found himself dressed up for someone, but he had actually ironed a pair of slacks and paired it with a soft blue sweater that Emery had assured him made him look put together but not stuffy.

The restaurant he found himself standing in the bar of was also not the kind of place he could usually be found. It was a trendy place, geared towards a crowd younger and hipper and with more dietary restrictions than him. He had ordered a bourbon neat to take the edge off the nerves he felt constricting in his stomach. He hadn't been on a first date in a long time. Let alone a blind date. Let alone a blind date set up through a dating app.

He found himself questioning whether he was absolutely out of his mind to be here when he glanced up and saw a familiar face meandering towards the bar. Perfect. Just perfect. Because of course Samira Mohan was walking towards him. Samira Mohan was the exact person he had joined the app to get out of his head.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him. "Dr. Abbot," she said. "It's nice to see you."

"You too, Mohan." And really, it was. It was nice to see her, to look at her. She was beautiful even in scrubs under hospital fluorescents, but this was something else.

Her hair was in loose waves at her shoulder and she wore a simple deep crimson dress. It was nothing revealing, nothing even overly stylish, but he had to drag his eyes away from where the hem skimmed her mid thigh. A thin gold chain with a gold pendant sat daintily across her neck.

"What brings you to this side of town?" He asked.

"Oh. I'm meeting someone. You?" She seemed to be holding something back, a note of embarrassment in her tone. 

"Same," he replied, bringing him back to focus. He was meeting someone. And he was genuinely excited about it. He had been messaging a woman for weeks anonymously, and he was thrilled to admit they had real chemistry. It didn't erase the pull he felt for the R-3 standing next to him, but he was excited to make a connection.

"Well, I won't keep you. I'm just waiting,” she said.

"No trouble at all, Mohan." He glanced down at his phone and sent off a message.

(20:26) I'm here. By the bar. Blue sweater.

He heard the familiar ping that meant a message had been received from the app. He glanced back at his phone, but there was no message for him. Instead, Samira was looking down at her phone. Then back to him. Then to his sweater and then his face again. Her already large brown eyes doubled in size.

Jack felt realization wash over him. Shit.

—

Samira was regretting making friends. She sat on Mel's couch, surrounded by people hounding her about her love life. She loved that she had friends now, a group of girls–and occasionally whitaker–she could drink wine and gossip and complain with, but who also got the job, how hard it made living like a regular person. At this moment, however, having her utter lack of dating prospects as the topic of conversation was going to give her hives.

"You're too hot to be so single," Trinity complained, draped over the arm of the couch dramatically.

"You do seem lonely," Mel admitted, gently. "Maybe it would be nice to meet someone."

"And how would the two of you propose I do that? We work a million hours a week?" Samira asked.

"I've been offering to take you to the lesbian bar for months," Trinity said. This was true. Trinity had offered many times, but Samira had thus far been successful in avoiding it. 

"Right, and watch you knit your terrifying little love triangle with multiple co-workers? I'm gonna pass."

"Your loss," Trinity sing-songed. "I'm an excellent wing woman."

Mel stood up and grabbed the bottle of white wine from the worn wooden coffee table. She filled up her glass before leaning the bottle towards Samira, eyebrows raised in question. Samira nodded, holding her glass out for Mel to top it off.

"Hey. Spread the love," Trinity complained, draining the contents of her glass before holding it out to Mel to fill her glass as well.

"You could try the apps?" offered Javadi, nervously, sitting on the rug next to the couch.  

"Yeah. And get a bunch of shallow morons sending unsolicited dick picks and girls looking for a unicorn for them and their straight boyfriends. No thank you." Samira replied, morose.

"I actually heard about a new one that seems okay. It's anonymous so you can't send or post pictures of yourself or they get automatically filtered out. It's supposed to encourage real connection before meeting," Mel chimed in.

"That seems nice in theory but how do you know you're not talking to a total psycho?" Samira asked, suspicious but intrigued.

"I've heard about that! Apparently you submit background information when you set up your profile. Their system vets you or whatever, but it's not visible to other users," Victoria piped up. "You set your filters for things like age and dating status, and it randomly pairs people to start a conversation. You're not supposed to discuss anything that would make the other person searchable."

Maybe it was the two and a half glasses of wine in her bloodstream, but Samira considered it. Mel was right. She was lonely. She had friends, now, of course, but she hadn't made a real romantic connection in years. She had crushes, sure, but none that were appropriate or reciprocated. None that she could act on. She pictured salt and pepper curls and hazel eyes before pushing that thought out of her mind as she always did. Maybe this could be the thing that found her a person to come home to.

"Maybe. I mean. That doesn't sound terrible..." Samira reluctantly admitted.

The three other girls erupted in excitement.

"Oh my god. Download it right now. I'll set you up a profile," Trinity said, bolting upright.

"Um. Trinity. Maybe you're not the best person to build a profile to find meaningful connection. No offense," Mel submitted, clearly trying to be diplomatic. Samira shot her an appreciative look.

"Yeah. You know what. Point taken actually," Trinity allowed, settling back into the couch.

"I can set it up myself," Samira, promised.

"As long as you keep us updated on operation Samira Gets a Guy. Or girl. Or person of unspecified gender. I don't have a preference if you don't," Trinity added with a wink.

As Samira looked around at her friends, all of their faces full of encouragement, Samira couldn't help but feel hopeful.

—

Jack rounded the corner on his way to the staircase leading to the roof. His thoughts were a million miles away which was probably why he didn't notice an incoming body, and he walked directly into Samira Mohan.

"Whoa there, Mohan," he startled, arms wrapping around the outside of both of her arms to keep her upright. She looked up at him with those big brown eyes, and he dropped his hands from where they gripped her like he had been burned.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going, I guess."

"No problem. It was a long night and longer for you than me. Wasn't that your second double in like a week and a half?" He asked, somewhere between impressed and concerned.

"Yeah. Just picking up hours where I can. Experience, you know," Mohan admitted, looking a little guilty.

"Well. You're getting it in spades. Good work with that MVA tonight. I know it's rough when there's kids, but all three of those kids get to keep both of their parents. That's not nothing. You did great."

"Thanks, Dr. Abbot." She replied, looking exhausted but proud.

"Get out of here. Get some rest. God knows you earned it," Abbot said, patting her on the back as he carried on towards the staircase and up to the roof.

When he reached the top, he walked over the railing that overlooked the ledge. As he took in the Pittsburgh skyline at sunrise, he heard the door push open and footsteps walking towards him.

"Come on, last night wasn't that bad. Is the roof really warranted?" Walsh huffed, joining him.

"I'm on this side of the rail, aren't I?" Abbot asked.

"She was brilliant tonight." Walsh offered, apropos of nothing.

Jack didn't bother asking who she meant. "She always is."

"She's been picking up more nightshifts lately..." Walsh trailed off, suggestively.

"Can you just drop it, Emery?" Abbot replied, more annoyed than he had a right to be. "It's not appropriate. And there's no way she’s interested."

"When's the last time you went on a date?" Walsh asked, voice accusatory.

Abbot didn't answer.

"That's what I thought," said Emery, pursing her lips. "Look. It doesn't have to be her. I know you've convinced yourself that you're somehow going to corrupt her youthful innocence with your penis or whatever. Never mind that she's an adult woman, a doctor, in her thirties." Jack rolled his eyes. This was not the first time they had had this argument.

"I'm just saying. Put yourself out there. Maybe get over her by getting over someone else if you know what I'm saying. Anything is better than all this horny guilt pining."

"How would I even meet someone?" Abbot asked, as though this were an obvious and unsolvable problem.

"I don't care. Go to a bar. Talk to a girl at your gym. I'll set you up on an app, old man," Emery said, sounding exasperated. 

"If I agree to try to find a date, can we stop having this conversation?"

"Show me proof that you're at least having a conversation with someone, and I'll drop it," Walsh answered, putting her hands up in surrender.

"Fine. I will try. But I’m not talking to girls at the gym. They want to be left alone. And I’m not going to bars. I work nights. So I guess that leaves you setting me up on the apps." Abbot conceded, more to get her off his back than anything.

"That's all I'm asking."

(9:10) What's your favorite book? 

(9:13) Really? That's what you're going with? 

(9:18) What? You can learn a lot about a person from their favorite book. 

(9:19) Fine. The Fountainhead. 

(9:21) Oh. Well. It was nice talking to you. 

(9:22) HA! 

(9:22) I'm fucking with you. It's Sense and Sensibility. 

(9:22) But your response also told me a lot about you. 

(9:25) God. Glad to have passed that test. Also glad that I'm not talking to a sociopath? Austen is nice. You're a romantic then?

(9:27) A closet romantic but yes. What's yours? 

(9:35) I read a lot of nonfiction. 

(9:41) You're not gonna tell me it's The Art of the Deal or How to Win Friends and Influence People are you? 

(9:45) Ha. No. Not self-help. I like memoirs. Roxane Gay. James Baldwin. David Sedaris. Joan Didion. Michelle Zimmer. 

(9:53) I can't explain how unbelievably sexy that answer is. A man that’s read Crying in H-mart?

(10:01) Bawled like a baby. 

(10:14) I'm actually swooning. 

(15:04) How about music? 

(16:08) Deeply uncool, I'm afraid. Nirvana. Also the foo fighters by extension. Radiohead. Wilco. I have a soft spot for the Red Hot Chili Peppers but I wouldn't admit it under the threat of torture. 

(16:12) Huh. I was pretty sure I set my filters to “no kids” 

(16:15) ????

(16:21) That's some dad-rock for sure. 

(16:22) Hardy har. 

(16:22) How about you? 

(17:03) Female singer songwriters, mostly? Alanis Morrisette. Amy Winehouse (may she rest in peace.) Joni Mitchell. Taylor Swift. Fiona apple. I can't help but notice you listed a total of zero women. 

(17:12) Hey. I owned Jagged Little Pill on cassette. 

(17:45) Fine. I'll allow it. 

(17:51) Well if the lady will allow it. 

(7:30) Okay. I know we're not supposed to ask questions that would make the other person googlable. But 3 sentences or less: what do you do? 

(12:35) It's a cop out answer but I help people? Take care people. Solve puzzles. 

(12:35) You? 

(15:41) I'm also in the helping people business. Some teaching. Problem solving and thinking on my feet. (Ha.) 

(16:08) Teacher huh? I can work with that. 

(16:18) I hope you're not imagining tweed blazers and old books. I'm not that kind of teacher. 

(19:04) What a shame. I was such a good student. Teachers loved me. 

(21:28) Were you a kiss ass or just smarter than everyone? 

(21:32) You said it. Not me. 

(21:32) What's with the laugh? 

(23:51) ???

(6:12) (Ha.)

(7:18) Oh. I'll explain it if we ever meet in person.

(9:24) That's one way to get a girl on a date.  

(14:23) Are you straight? 

(14:35) You really come out of the gate swinging, don't you. 

(15:01) I don't like doing things by halves. 

(15:08) Fair. I respect that actually. 

(15:21) So. Straight? 

(15:23) I mean. I definitely like women. 

(15:31) I've worked in a field that allowed for plenty of… experimentation? Enough to know that I'm not totally opposed to it but it's not usually my preference. 

(15:39) Is there a reason you ask? 

(15:48) I'm bi. Solidly bi. 

(16:04) Noted. Very cool. 

(16:09) You're not gonna ask me if I'm down for threesomes? 

(16:16) Do you want me to? 

(16:21) No. Absolutely not. Guys just often do.

(16:23) Well. Guys often suck. I apologize on behalf of men.

(16:25) So you're fine with me being queer. 

(16:33) Sure. Not to be all “some of my best friends are queer women” 

(16:34) But. One of my closest friends is a lesbian. So is one of my sisters. One of my favorite coworkers too. 

(16:35) Now that I'm saying this, I'm realizing I'm surrounded by lesbians. 

(16:40) There are worse things. 

(17:00) Also. For the record: I'm not usually a person who likes to share. Gender notwithstanding. 

(17:31) Noted. And me either. 

"Who ya talking to?" Trinity drawled, playfully pulling Samira away from her phone.

"No one," Samira answered too quickly, shoving her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. Lately, she found herself on her phone during shifts whenever she could find a moment or two. It gave Robby another thing to rag on her for slowing her down, so she was trying to be more surreptitious about it. Unsuccessfully. 

"So it's a suitor, then," Trinity guessed, grinning.

"Suitor? Really?" The choice of word made Samira roll her eyes. Meeting someone on an anonymous dating app seemed as different as possible from gentlemen suitors in the books she loved. But there was something about the man she had been talking to. Enough to intrigue her, to pull her away from laser focusing on work 24/7 so maybe the word worked well enough. 

"You were grinning at your phone, and then you acted like I caught you watching porn. Suitor seems appropriate when I don't know anything about them," Santos elaborated, her eyes were accusatory but her tone fond. 

"Fine," Samira surrendered. "It's just a guy from the apps I've been talking to."

"Oh! So that's going well I take it," said Trinity, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

It was. Surprisingly so. Samira didn't really expect to find an actual connection, but the man she had been chatting with seemed smart and funny and didn't seem to mind that she could be a bit weird.

"I think it is, actually," Samira admitted. 

"Well I love to say I told you so. Any plans to meet him in person?"

"I don't think I'm quite there yet. I promise I will let you know when I do. Not like I'm going to meet some guy from the internet without sharing my location," Samira added. Talking to a stranger about books and movies was one thing. Meeting said stranger face to face seemed like a bridge she would consider crossing at a much later date. 

(6:21) Favorite food. Go. 

(6:23) My mama’s chicken and dumplings.

(6:28) You're southern? 

(6:31) Appalachian. 

(6:33) Good to know. And that's sweet. Both your answer and that you call your mom ‘mama’.  

(6:35) We all do. My sisters and me. 

(6:38) How many sisters? 

(6:39) 3. All older. They baby me. 

(6:39) Do you have siblings? 

(6:41) Only child. You cannot improve upon perfection. 

(6:43) Hey. Sometimes you get it right the first time. 

(6:46) What's your favorite food?

(6:51) Well.  I'm mostly vegetarian. Strictly vegetarian if my mother is asking. 

(6:51) Like if I'm looking for comfort? Probably my dad's sambar. He was the cook of the family and it's what I crave when I'm sick or sad. It's like a spiced lentil and vegetable stew. 

(7:54) Do you cook? 

(8:29) God no. I could burn water. And I don't have a lot of free time. So. I eat a lot of takeout. 

(8:29) What about you? 

(11:31) I'm actually a great cook. Never made sambar before though. May have to expand my spice cabinet. 

(12:44) Maybe you could cook for me sometime. 

(15:21) It would be my honor. 

(20:18) Tits or Ass

(21:22) Jesus Christ. Give a guy some warning. 

(21:23) Besides. That's objectifying. Are you a twelve year-old boy. 

(21:24) Fine. Warning. I’ve had two glasses of wine. Tits or Ass. I promise not to revoke your male ally card. 

(21:35) I'm in favor of both. But. 

(21:36) Legs. My answer is legs. 

(21:45) Old School. 

(22:21) I'd like to think so. 

(6:51) How old school is old school btw? 

(7:48) I thought we weren't supposed to give identifying information. 

(8:03) All I know is that you're between 25 and fifty. Ballpark it for me. 

(8:33) 40s. Why? how old are you?

(8:33) And 25? Jesus. You're not in your 20s right? I didn't think I set my filter that low. 

(8:59) I'm in my 30s. Promise. 

(9:09) Whew. 

(19:12) Can I ask you a serious question? 

(19:23) Go for it. 

(19:28) Do you ever have days where you feel like no matter what you do, it's not enough? 

(19:42) Only about 3 times a week. Hard day at work? 

(20:01) Yeah. Someone I did everything I could to help but I couldn't fix it. 

(20:17) I'm sorry. 

(20:24) How do you deal with it? 

(20:31) I have a place I go to put things in perspective. I confide in my friends when I need talked off the ledge. A therapist I find helpful.  

(20:33) Do you have a support system? Family you're close to? 

(20:41) I'm an only child. Not super close to my mom. But I'm starting to. I've been making friends. People to lean on. 

(20:55) Have you thought about therapy? 

(21:22) Idk. Rationally, I know it would be good for me. But culturally, it's not really something people like me usually do. 

(22:19) Well, if you ever need a recommendation, let me know. I could get you some numbers. 

(22:36) I'll think about it. Sorry if this has been deeply unsexy banter. 

(22:58) Idk. You'd be surprised how sexy vulnerability can be. 

(8:00) Tea or coffee? 

(10:21) Both I guess? I drink a lot of chai at home but I'm very particular about it so I don't order it places. Matcha latte with oat milk when I treat myself which is rarely because my salary doesn't allow for it yet. 

(10:29) And I drink a lot of really shitty coffee from the break room when I work nights. 

(10:44) Cream and sugar? 

(11:19) Flavored creamer if I can get my hands on it. Anything but hazelnut (I’m allergic.)

(11:29) You?

(13:30) I also drink a lot of shitty break room coffee when I work nights, which is almost always. 

(14:01) Black?  

(14:22) Black break room coffee is bleak. Even for me. Cream and sugar. 

(14:23) But I have a fancy pants espresso machine at home and I buy good single origin beans as a splurge for my days off. 

(15:15) Well. Aren't we distinguished. 

(15:34) I spent years of my life drinking lukewarm instant coffee. Ive earned the good stuff. 

(16:29) Haha. My apologies. 

(12:25) Do you have hobbies? 

(12:38) I’m kind of a workaholic but I have some things. I told you I cook. I try to stay in shape so I lift weights. I do the NYT connections everyday. Does that count? 

(12:51) If it doesn't count, I have fewer hobbies than I gave myself credit for. Though I'm convinced whoever is writing the purple categories is an unapologetic sadist. 

(13:21) What do you do in your free time? 

(15:55) My job takes up most of my life. I'm in a crazy period but it should calm down some in a few years.  

(15:56) I research a lot in what little spare time I have. I have a standing girls night with some friends, though. 

(16:01) Research in your spare time. You are a bit of a teacher's pet, aren't you? 

(16:51) You make me sound so boring. 

(17:00) Nothing about you bores me. 

(18:23) What a workaholic pair we make.  

Jack couldn't help but feel a little gratitude towards Emery Walsh. It had been a long time since he had engaged in the kind of flirting he had found himself doing lately.

He slid his phone in his pocket and walked around to a computer at the hub.

"You're in a shockingly good mood lately. It's throwing me off," Ellis leveled at him, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

"Can't a guy have a good night?" He replied, knowing that he could not fully remove the smile from his face. He hadn't felt this giddy rush of chemistry outside of his relationship with his wife. Well. Not if you didn't count... Which he categorically didn't.

"I mean. Theoretically. But for you, a good night usually means no one dies, and you don't end up on the roof. Not grinning at your phone like a little boy with a crush," Ellis snorted.

"You know. I am still your superior. That's insubordination," Abbot threatened, no real bite behind it. He had always had something of a soft spot for Ellis.

"Write me up, old man," She quipped, rolling her eyes. "Does this mean you're actually getting some?"

"Getting some? Really?" Abbot asked, his tone ladened with distaste. "I am having conversations. That may eventually lead to me getting some. Yes."

"Well. Whatever you're doing, keep it up. It makes you, dare I say, fun."

"What's making Abbot fun?" Mohan interrupted. Abbot felt himself blush. His fair skin had never been able to hide embarrassment, flushing from cheeks all the way down his neck to his freckled sternum, thankfully covered by his scrub top.

"Abbot's got himself a girlfriend," Ellis explained, and Jack felt his fondness for the senior resident wain.

Samira's face seemed to fall a little, or maybe Jack was imagining it.

"Not a girlfriend. I definitely don't have a girlfriend. Just a person I've been talking to," Abbot rushed to clarify. He was unsure what prompted the need for such immediate clarification. It wasn't like Samira would care if he was off the market. And he was trying to get her out of his head. And it was actually working, much to his surprise.

His heart still felt a little bit funny when he caught Samira in a moment of brilliance over an incoming trauma or when she sent him her notes on the journal articles he sent her. But he was also genuinely enjoying his chats on the app. She was funny. She kept him on his toes, never saying what he expected.

"Well. I think that's great." Samira half smiled. "I'm going to go check in on the febrile 8 month old in north 6," she added before turning and walking away.

"Very smooth, boss." Ellis said, pulling a face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Abbot said, before turning and walking in the other direction, his face once again turning red. 

(3:13) So. Sex. What do you like? 

(3:23) One of these days, I'm gonna get used to the fact that you can't ease into anything. just a feet first jump every chance you get. 

(3:31) Oh come on. We're adults. We can talk about sex. 

(4:08) We can certainly try. 

(4:19) So I ask again. What do you like? 

(4:22) Fine. I'm a big fan of oral. 

(4:31) Florals, for spring? Groundbreaking. 

(4:31) Man likes blowjobs. Fork found in silverware drawer. 

(4:36) Ha. I do enjoy them on occasion but that's not actually what I meant. 

(4:37) Oh. So you enjoy…..

(4:40) Now she's shy. Eating pussy yeah. One of my favorite things. 

(4:45) The entire world of sex and that's your first choice? That's generous. 

(4:53) What can I say, women getting off gets me off. Also. Remember how I said I was a legs guy? Legs wrapped around my face. Very fond of that. 

(4:58) Noted. I don't usually…. Finish like that? 

(4:59) I mean. It's just usually easier with hands than mouths. 

(5:05) You say that like the people you've been with treated it like an either/or situation. 

(5:10) I guess. 

(5:13) It wouldn't be a problem. That's all I'm saying. 

(5:17) Arrogant.

(5:23) Nah. Just confident. 

(5:28) What about you then? 

(5:34) I know I'm the one that brought this up but I'm suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

(5:38) Come on. Be a brave little toaster. 

(5:50) Okay. You cannot bring up Brave Little Toaster in a conversation about sex. Leave him out of this.

(5:56) My sincerest apologies. But go on. You can do it. I know you can. 

(6:24) Well. I mean. That’s a start…..

(7:01) ????

(7:19) I like being told how I'm doing. Talked through it, I guess. I don't want someone giving me orders but it's nice to be given instructions and then told when I do a good job. 

(7:25) Ah. Ever the teacher's pet. 

(8:20) Hey! No kink shaming! 

(8:34) Wouldn't dream of it. Besides. I think I mentioned I teach. I'm happy to give you as much instruction and feedback as you'd like. 

(8:44) Noted. I'm ending this conversation because I am actually at work and my coworkers are looking at me funny. 

(8:45) But thank you. 

(9:09) Any time. 

(8:24) Favorite movie. 

(12:36) Oh. DDLJ. 

(12:41) Sorry. I'm not familiar. 

(14:47) Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. I've seen it a hundred times. It's an Indian film from the 90s. Very melodramatic. Love conquers all. I used to watch it with my dad. 

(14:58) Ah. The closet romantic. I'll have to watch it sometime. 

(17:14) You really don't have to. 

(17:23) I know. But I'd like to know you better. 

(18:38) That's sweet. You're sweet. What's your favorite?

(18:41) I'm a simple man. Back to the Future. 

(19:04) Never seen it. 

(21:26) Blasphemy. 

(5:28) It was before my time!

(7:31) Was that a pun? If so, terrible. 

(8:37) Maybe a little. 

(8:37) Maybe we could watch it together sometime? 

(9:15) How about we make it a double feature. 

(9:17) The oddest double feature in history. 

(9:48) It's a date. 

(19:21) For our double feature: movie snack of choice?

(19:38) Popcorn obviously. And raisinettes. 

(19:41) God. You're so old sometimes. 

(21:36) What's wrong with raisinettes? 

(21:39) Like I said. It's old people candy. 

(22:45) Fine. Enlighten me. What is acceptable movie candy? 

(22:51) Sour gummy worms or twizzlers.  

(23:01) First of all, sour gummy worms are not vegetarian. And twizzlers, not red vines?

(23:08) Are you the vegetarian police? 

(23:09) And red vines taste like plastic. 

(23:18) They both taste like plastic. 

(23:26) Not the strawberry pull and peel twizzlers!

(23:31) Fine. I will try your supposedly not-plastic twizzlers if you will agree to mix the raisinettes in our popcorn. 

(24:18) Our first compromise. I love it. 

(19:22) What's your favorite holiday? 

(21:23) Christmas I guess? I spend it with my family when I can get it off. Time in the mountains with my sisters and Mom and nieces and nephews. 

(21:28) That's nice. Are you religious? 

(23:21) Extremely lapsed Catholic. So. It's not so much about the religion of it all. Just family.

(23:22) There were years where I spent Christmas in a very unhome place so I savor it now. 

(23:28) ????

(23:33) I'll explain someday. Too much information would probably violate terms. 

(23:35) What's yours? 

(23: 39) My favorite holiday? Probably Halloween. 

(23:39) So much weird shit comes through the doors at work on Halloween. I purposely work nights every year. 

(23:41) And weird shit is good? A selling point? 

(23:42) Oh. Absolutely. 

(23:44) God, you're weird. 

(23:46) Hey!

(1:07) Know, from the bottom of my heart, I meant that as a compliment. 

(9:20) Have you ever been married?

(10:12) Nope. I haven't even been in a serious relationship since college. This whole dating thing is pretty new to me. 

(10:20) Is there a reason you ask? 

(10:22) Mostly just curious. 

(10:29) Have you? 

(10:31) Yeah. Once. 

(11:06) So you're divorced? 

(11:08) Widowed, actually. 

(11:12) I'm so sorry. 

(11:14) Yeah. Me too. 

(11:15) What was she like? 

(11:35) Luminous. Hilarious. Kind down to her bones. She was my high school sweetheart. We got married young. She died of breast cancer. Today is the anniversary. 

(11:38) Do you do anything to commemorate it? 

(11:39) I usually take off work. Go see her. Take her flowers. 

(12:28) What were her favorite flowers? 

(12:33) She liked simple things. Daisies usually. 

(12:41) I love daisies. I think I might have liked her. 

(13:01) I know she would have liked you. 

(14:22) That's really nice of you to say. 

(14:26) Do you ever light a candle for her? 

(14:28) Are you Catholic? 

(15:21) No. Absolutely not. But it's something I do for my dad. On his death day. It helps. I don't know why. 

(15:28) Maybe I'll try it. 

(15:32) If you need someone to talk to today, I'm here. 

(15:37) Thank you. Really. 

(16:29) Any time. 

(20:20) So I know you don't have kids. But do you want them? 

(20:21) Your taste in music notwithstanding. 

(21:38) Ha ha. And no. I don't want kids. I love kids.  Love my nieces and nephews. But it's not something I see for myself. And I got a vasectomy about 10 years ago. Hope that's not a deal breaker. 

(21:45) It is, actually, but in your favor. I don't want them either.  

(22:23) Any particular reason? 

(22:39) I just. Don't see myself as a mom? I think being a parent is a calling. And I already have one of those. My job is my calling. 

(22:55) Well. It's nice that we have that in common. 

(23:02) Yeah. It really is. 

Samira was drunk. Not two glasses of wine on a girl's night in tipsy, but drunk. It was the only explanation for what she had just shared with her group of friends about the man she had been messaging.

They were crammed around a booth at Rita's. Her, Trinity, Mel and Victoria. Whitaker was humming around somewhere, waiting to drive them home, some sort of roommate bet he had lost to Trinity.

"So what you're saying is that your mystery man goes down," Trinity said, looking like a proud mother. "I couldn't be happier for you. A man after my own heart."

Even Mel seemed impressed. "That is really important in a lover."

"What else do you know about him?" Victoria piped up, clearly eager to shift the conversation.

"I know he's in his forties. He has terrible taste in music but good taste in books. He's a widower. Doesn’t want kids. He's smart. Definitely funny," Samira listed off.

"You sound like you really like him," Mel remarked, sweetly.

"I think I really do. I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I'm just waiting for him to ask me out already," Samira admitted. She was starting to lose patience. They had spoken every day for two weeks now.

"What's his sign? Maybe he's just an aloof guy? Maybe he needs clear communication," Trinity offered.

"You really think it's an astrology problem?”

“It couldn't hurt to ask."

"Fine. I'll ask him," said Samira, sliding out of the booth to stand. "I'm gonna get another drink. Anyone want anything?"

"I think we're good. Last one, okay, Mira?" Mel said, always a caretaker.

"Sure thing, Mel," Samira smiled, before turning towards the bar and pulling out her phone. 

(22:09) Hiiiii :)))))))()()(()())

(22:12) Hello to you too? 

(22:13) Wats ur sign ;)))

(22:28) Oh. You're drunk. 

(22:29) Maybe just a little….. 

(22:29) My friends want to know more about you, mystery man. 

(22:48) I had to Google it. I'm an Aquarius. 

(22:49) Ohhhhh. So still mysterious. Smart. A little odd. Stubborn. 

(23:01) I know next to nothing about astrology but all of that seems fairly accurate. 

(23:02) i'm a Libra if you were curious. 

(23:08) I will consult Google about what that means at some point. 

(23:08) Are you drinking plenty of water? Do you have a DD? 

(23:10) Are you attempting to take care of me via dating app? 

(23:10) That's very sexy. 

(23:15) Just checking in. 

(23:19) yes sir. cup of water per drink and my friend’s roommate is driving us. 

(23:23) Good girl. 

(23:25) :)))())(()())))))))

(23:41) Okay. I'm at work and something big is about to come in but please message me if you need anything. 

(23:45) Anyyythinbgg????? ;)

(23:52) Within reason. Anything you'd still ask for sober. 

(23:55) Make sure you take Advil for the headache tomorrow. Not Tylenol. 

(1:44) Good night, doctor. 

(2:00) Goodnight, sweetheart. 

(8:55) Ugggghh. 

(8:56) I am aggressively sorry about last night. 

(9:22) Haha. You were something. How’re you feeling this morning?

(9:35) Like I got hit by the bad decisions bus. 

(9:35) I'm a light weight and was hanging with a friend who is decidedly not. 

(9:36) I apologize if I was inappropriate. I'm not usually a partier. I'm not irresponsible. 

(9:40) I didn't think you were. You're young. Please don't apologize for going out and having fun. As long as you were safe. 

(9:43) Thank you for looking out for me. 

(9:46) Any time. 

(9:47) And I looked up libras. Clever. Charming. Fair-minded. People pleasers. 

(9:48) I know at least that last one rings true. 

(9:50) I can't believe I drunkenly asked you your sign like a line in a bad movie.

(9:53) It's really okay. I'm glad you had fun. 

(9:54) Thanks. I'm gonna go talk to a breakfast burrito about this hangover. 

(10:01) I recommend Berto’s. They even have a crispy tofu and avocado one I've been told is good. 

(10:02) You're an angel. 

(12:21) Any tattoos or piercings or body mods? 

(12:24) That seems like an off limits question. Too identifiable. 

(12:38) You don't have to tell me what they are. Just if you have them. 

(12:41) Fine. No tattoos or piercings. Body modification, yes. But I really wouldn't want to get into specifics unless we met in person. 

(12:45) Do you have hair plugs? Pec implants? Veneers? 

(13:28) Jesus. No. My curls are all mine. My chest, hard earned in the gym. My teeth are admittedly a little crooked but I like to think it's in a charming way. 

(13:29) What about you? Any face tattoos? 

(14:02) Ha! No. No tattoos. Just my ears pierced. My nose used to be pierced but I haven't worn anything in it for a while so I probably couldn't get jewelry in it at this point. 

(14:03) A simple girl. 

(14:08) I'm boring, I guess. 

(14:21) In all the time I have been talking to you, you have not, for a single second, been boring. So. That's a lie. And I happen to like simple. 

(19:08) Are you ever going to ask me on a date? 

(19:29) God, you're fearless. It's very hot. 

(19:30) Will you go on a date with me?

(20:00) Idk. That's very forward of you. 

(20:19) Brat. 

(20:20) But seriously. Do you wanna get dinner? I work nights but I have Wednesday and Thursday off this week. 

(20:24) I can make Wednesday work. Is a late dinner okay? I get off at 7. Maybe 8:30? 

(20:25) 8:30 at The Strand? 

(20:26) I thought you'd never ask. See you then. 

(21:05) Can't wait. 

Jack felt all the color drain from his face as he looked into Samira’s eyes. 

“Oh ho ho. Oh no. No no no. No. This is not happening,” Jack managed to get out. He sounded almost as though he were laughing, but he certainly didn't find this funny. 

“I think it actually is happening, Abbot. Apparently it's been happening for a while,” Samira replied, somewhat more composed than just but still with a touch of disbelief. 

“No. No it's not. Because if it is, that means–I'm your attending, Mohan. And I've said things. I know things about you. And you know things about me.” The color returned to his face with a vengeance, flushing scarlet from cheek to chest. 

This was bad. Not only had he not been getting over Samira Mohan, he had been making the situation much much worse. Because the brilliant resident he'd been trying to avoid falling head over heels for was the clever woman who had been filling up his free time with laughter and chaos. 

“Look. It's not a big deal,” Samira began. “We'll have dinner. We're both already here. And I know you don't work tomorrow.” 

“Mohan, I think that's a very bad idea,” Jack replied, voice full of nerves. 

“You can call me Samira, you know. I think we know each other well enough at this point to use first names.” She looked remarkably calm. Like she was finding this whole ordeal funny. 

“Fine. Samira. We're here to go on a date. With each other apparently. That cannot happen,” Jack replied firmly. 

“It’s just dinner. I'm not asking you to marry me, you know,” she explained. “But if I’m not what you had in mind–I mean–I can understand if you're not interested…” She went on, looking embarrassed but clearly trying her best to hide it. 

And Jack felt like an ass. She had somehow gotten it into her head that he was disappointed that the person he had been talking to had turned out to be her. That she somehow didn't pass muster. And that was absolutely unacceptable. 

“No. You're right.” He quickly corrected. “It's just a meal. And it’s your night off. And you look…” he trailed off. “The least I can do is buy you dinner.” 

“Lead the way then,” she replied, smiling, looking relieved. 

The hostess led them to a quiet table near the back of the restaurant. Abbot walked around to Samira's seat, before pulling out her chair and gesturing for her to sit, then sliding her chair back under the table when she had done so. 

“Old school,” Samira murmured under her breath, a small smile spreading across her lips. 

Abbot couldn't help but return her smile with a shrug of his shoulders. 

He took his seat, folding his napkin in his lap more to have something to do with his nervous hands than to be polite. 

When he looked across the table, Samira was looking at him, head tilted to the side, expectantly. He swallowed and steeled himself, wracking his brain for what he could say. 

“So. You're allergic to hazelnuts,” is what he settled on before mentally kicking himself for how stupid it sounded. 

Samira barked out a laugh before giving him a look that was somehow both amused and deeply unimpressed. 

“Seriously?” She asked. “I know that your favorite part of a woman is her legs, and you know that I like to be bossed around in bed and you’re going with my hazelnut allergy as an opener?”

Abbot flushed and sputtered. He had taken a sip of water and had to physically restrain himself from spitting the water out of his mouth. 

“Jesus, Samira,” he replied. “I'm used to the whole verbal cliff-diving thing when it's in text form, but definitely not when your face is attached to it.” 

Samira rolled her eyes. “All I'm saying is that you've never had trouble talking to me in person. And you've never had trouble talking to me when you didn't know it was me. Why should this be any different?” 

Abbot thought about it for a second, eyes searching her face. She was right, as usual. His schoolboy crush notwithstanding, things had always been easy with her around the hospital. And from their first messages, they had real chemistry over text.

“You're right. I'm in my head. And also, very bad at first dates in general. It's been a while,” he admitted. 

“I mean, for me too.” 

The waiter stopped and took their drink orders and asked if they wanted any appetizers to start. Abbot ordered a beer and deferred to Samira, who ordered a glass of white wine and then an order of Caesar brussel sprouts. 

He looked at her questioningly. “You haven't even looked at the menu. How did you know to order that?”

She smiled wide. “Oh. I always research a restaurant’s menu before I go if I can help it.”

Abbot smiled at her. “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Teacher’s pet does her homework,” he ribbed. 

“I wanted to make a good first impression! And I’m a vegetarian! I have to make sure they have something I can order!” She sounded offended, indignant enough to almost conceal her embarrassment. Jack couldn't help but find it adorable. 

“I wouldn't have asked you to a restaurant that didn't have vegetarian options, you know,” Abbot replied. 

“Ahhh. You did your research too,” she hummed, a grin spreading across her face. 

“You're not the only one who wanted to make a good first impression,” he admitted simply, before adding “But strictly speaking, the brussel sprouts aren't 100% vegetarian. Parmesan cheese is made with animal rennet and caesar dressing is made with anchovies.”

“God. You really are the vegetarian police. And yes. I know that. But it really is the best cheese. And as I mentioned, I am mostly vegetarian,” she replied, sounding a little petulant. 

“Noted.” He said, and their food and drink were set in front of him before their waiter asked for their entree orders. 

He took a sip of his beer and watched her spear a brussel sprout with her fork before popping it in her mouth, closing her eyes and honest to God moaning. 

“Good?” He prompted. 

“Very,” she replied. 

He tried one. It really was delicious. “Wow. That is good. Homework well done. A+ as usual.” 

“I aim to please,” she said, primly. 

“Oh trust me. I know,” he replied cheekily, before seeing her expression turn bashful. 

“Sorry. That was inappropriate,” he apologized, clearing his throat. It was too easy to be himself with her. 

She seemed to turn that over in her head. “Okay. New rule. We don't worry about what's inappropriate for Dr. Abbot, attending, and Dr. Mohan, R-3. Right now, we're just Jack and Samira. Two people on a date who've been chatting for weeks about anything and everything. We’ll be as honest with each other as we were when it was anonymous.”

“A date,” Abbot repeated back to her, brows furrowed. 

“Can you tell me why you seem to find the idea of a date with me so repugnant now that you know it’s me?” She asked, hurt creeping back into her voice. 

There it was again. She seemed to be interpreting his awkwardness to mean that he didn't want her. As if he'd done anything but want her for months. Years, if he was being honest with himself. 

“Samira, it's not that, I promise,” he began. She looked back at him, expression unchanged, waiting. “How honest are we talking?” He tried. Laying all his cards on the table was going to be humiliating, but it would either assuage her worries or send her running, either way, it solved a problem. 

“Try me,” was all she said. 

“Okay. I'll start at the beginning. I had a crush. An inappropriate crush on a coworker. Technically a subordinate. But I was committed to doing nothing about it. She’s whip-smart and beautiful, but I don't want to do anything to jeopardize her career, and it's not exactly like I'm a catch. Traumatized widow with half a leg, 15 years older than her. So I keep it to myself. I go to the roof and stew on it. One day, Walsh gets tired of what she calls my “horny guilt pining,” and tells me if I'm not gonna do anything about it, I should at least put myself out there with someone.” 

“And she's right. I haven't really given dating a try since my wife died. So I join  an app. And meet a girl, and it works. She's funny and smart and surprises me constantly. We talk and she mouths off at me, and for the first time in a long time, I'm excited about dating.” 

“And then, after weeks, I show up to meet this mysterious woman, and she turns out to be the person I was trying to get over in the first place. So not only is she the person I've had the most chemistry with in a decade, she's totally stunning. Brilliant and everything I'm not supposed to have and everything I want rolled into one.” 

“You think the problem is that I don't want you, right?” He asked, eyes boring into hers. “It's the opposite. I want you. Both versions of you—so bad I can barely breathe.” 

He ended it there. Letting it sit between them. For a moment she saod nothing. Just looking at him with the oddest expression. 

“I had a crush, too,” is what she apparently settled on. “But Santos said I needed to find someone, so I downloaded the stupid app. It was you for me, too. You sell yourself short.”

Abbot’s stomach turned over. For a moment, he forgot about the HR nightmare that this could turn into. Forgot what he's supposed to do and want and focused on the fact that she wanted him too. 

“So what do we do about it?” He asked, putting the ball in her court. 

“We enjoy a first date. We talk, and we eat, and then you drive me home, your place or mine, and we figure it out from there.”

“You make it sound like it's easy,” he said, unconvinced. 

“I don't know. It's always seemed easy with you,” she replied. 

“What version of me?”

“Both. Always both.” 

“I suppose we can try,” is all he said. 

“Wait. Walsh is your closest friend that's a lesbian?” Samira said, as though she were suddenly remembering their previous conversations. 

“Yeah. She's a bossy pain in my ass, but she knows me. It's annoying. She also picked out this sweater.” 

“So that would mean that Ellis is ‘one of your favorite coworkers?” She asked, putting pieces together. 

“Yeah. Like I said. I'm surrounded by lesbians. She’s been encouraging our little app based fling.” 

“Meddling lesbians. Trinity is the reason I joined in the first place,” Samira admitted. 

Abbot let himself laugh. And just like that, the tension that had clouded the evening seemed to evaporate. 

Their food came, and they fell into easy conversation, weaving between hospital related gossip and discussions they’d had through text. 

“Oh my God!” Samira said suddenly, putting her fork down. “I've been waiting to know what you meant about body modifications for a week! You meant your leg!” She threw her head back in laughter, and Abbot felt his entire body warm at the trilling sound of it. It was a sound he wanted to hear for decades.

“Yeah. I didn't really know how to work that into a conversation in a sexy way,” Jack admitted sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” she said, composing herself. “Is that not something I should laugh at?”

“No. Of course you should. I'm just glad I don't have to have a really uncomfortable, pity-laden conversation about it now,” Abbot admitted. 

“‘Thinking on your feet.’ That's why you laughed. God, Jack. That is terrible,” she shot back. “And you gave me shit about my Back to the Future joke.”

“I still can't believe you've never seen it.” 

“Well, maybe the world's weirdest double feature can be our second date,” she grinned. 

“Second date?” Abbot asked.

“I mean. If the rest of tonight goes as well as this has. And if that's what you want–” she said, backtracking. 

“I want a lot of things, Samira,” Jack said, suddenly serious. She kept second guessing his interest in her, and he found that intolerable. He vowed to leave no question in her mind just how intensely he wanted her. 

Samira held his gaze, bashful but relieved. She glanced over and grabbed the attention of the waiter. “Could you bring us the check, please?” she asked. 

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked softly, but with a suggestive tone. 

“You have no fucking idea, sweetheart,” he breathed. 

—

Jack paid the check before rising from his seat and walking over to her chair. He offered her his hand as she stood up from the table. 

Samira brushed down the skirt of her dress, trying to release the wrinkles. She watched as his eyes hungrily traveled to where the hem skimmed her thighs, down to her heels, and then back up. 

He cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away, and Samira felt self-satisfied at the choice of outfit she had spent more than a little time fussing over. 

He offered her his arm, which she took, relishing in the way his strong biceps felt underneath her fingertips. 

“You didn't drive here, right?” 

“No. I took the bus. I was maybe–you know just–I was expecting to go home with you. Okay?” She knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about. She was an adult. They had talked about sex. It was on the table. But she still felt sheepish.  

“Is that safe?” Abbot asked, looking conflicted.

“I have my location shared with Trinity and Mel. I'm not reckless,” she explained. He nodded, approvingly but didn't add anything. 

He walked her to his car, an old but well maintained Jeep. He opened her door for her, giving her his hand to help lift her into the cab before shutting the door and walking around to his side. 

They drove in relative silence. The tension from earlier in the evening returning but this time tinged with something different. Anticipation clung like static electricity in the air between them. 

Samira saw Jack’s eyes leave the road and draw back to her upper thigh where her dress had ridden up. 

She chuckled, and he snapped his eyes back to the road. 

“You're allowed to look, you know,” she teased. “I wore it for you.” 

“Stopping myself from staring at you is like a reflex at this point. Being allowed to look is new. But I appreciate it very much. And I plan to show you exactly how much I appreciate it if you'll let me.”

Samira felt warm all over but all she said was “Drive faster.”

She wasn't surprised by his house. It was a small craftsman, shutters painted navy, washed almost black in the moonlight. Old school, she thought to herself and smiled. 

Again, he came around to open her door for her before leading her up the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside. 

The inside was warmer than she expected. The wood was dark, the room washed in ambient light from a stained glass lamp next to a cognac leather sectional that looked like it had been worn soft. There were pictures on the walls, some she recognized, one of Robby with his arm slung around Jack, both of them in tuxes. A black and white wedding photo. Pictures of a group of people of all ages, his sisters and their kids, she guessed. 

There was enough clutter and knickknacks to feel lived in without being untidy. Homey didn't quite do it justice. 

Samira realized she was staring around the house and not paying attention to Jack. When she redirected her gaze, she found that Jack was already staring at her. 

“God. You really are beautiful,” he said reverently. 

“So do something about it,” she retorted, teasing. 

He pulled her towards him by the waist, then ran his nose up her jaw before nipping at her ear, just hard enough. “You're such a brat,” he whispered fondly. 

And then he was kissing her. He pressed his mouth to hers firmly, and she kissed him back. He wove one hand into her hair, and she opened her mouth to his. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, and then pulled her lip between his teeth. His other arm slid up her back, anchoring her to him. 

She felt heady, a little dizzy. It had been a while since she had been kissed, and this was a real kiss. Solid and hot. 

Jack pulled back. “My bedroom is that way. We should do this with a bed,” Jack said, voice low and gruff. 

“By all means,” she replied breathlessly. “Lead the way.” 

He took her hand and walked her through the living room and into the bedroom, again washed with light from a lamp, this time on one of the bedside tables that sat on either side of a king bed, made hospital-corner neat with a cream duvet, and a woven taupe blanket folded at the foot.

Samira turned to Jack. He looked her up and down, eyes bright. “Can you take your dress off for me, sweetheart?” He asked, a note of authority in his gentle tone. 

She reached for the hem before lifting it over her head. His eyes roamed her body hungrily. Samira felt quietly grateful she had worn her nicest underwear. Simple black lace and a black bra to match. 

“Can your shirt come off, too, then?” she asked, wanting to see the broad expanse of his chest and also wanting not to be the only one in a state of undress. 

“Anything you want, Mira,” he nodded, before lifting the soft blue sweater over his head by pulling on the back of the neck. 

Samira felt her mouth go dry as her eyes wandered over his chest, defined pecs covered in freckles and a smattering of salt and pepper hair, to his arms, strong and defined, with a vein that ran prominently from his wrist all the way up his muscled biceps. Samira thought, for one insane moment, that she wanted to sink her teeth into them. 

“Not that I'm not glad to be ogled, but you're too far away,” Abbot chuckled.

“Lay down on the bed,” he said, and she felt her body flush at his instruction. 

She complied and he readily climbed onto the bed over her, holding his weight on his forearms and hovering above her before bringing their mouths back together. Samira exhaled, relieved to be kissing him again and by his weight on top of her. 

“Lift up for me a little,” he whispered, and she raised her torso off the bed. He skillfully snaked one arm behind her and released the clasp of her bra with one hand. She pulled it the rest of the way off before tossing it off the bed. 

He gazed down at her breasts before taking in his hand, testing its weight and groaning before thumbing over her nipple. Again, Samira lifted her back off the mattress, this time involuntarily, letting out a soft whine. 

“God. I knew you'd sound sweet,” he praised, continuing to work at her breast, before bringing his lips to her jaw and tracing up to ear. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, before his mouth followed a trail down the side of her throat and then down to her other breast, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking before doing the same to the other one. 

Samira felt breathless and a little out of control. She slid her hand down and cupped where he was hard between them, rubbing him softly through his slacks. 

“Shit. Baby. Too much of that and this isn't going to last as long as I'd like,” he huffed out. 

He lowered his body down her torso, and mouthed where she was already wet through her panties. She felt like she was going to combust. 

“Please,” he looked up at her begging. She knew what he was asking for, and he sounded desperate in a way no one had ever been with her before, so she nodded. 

“Hips up,” he instructed gently, before hooking his thumbs around the waistband of her panties, and pulling them slowly down her legs, mouth following them all the way down, tracing along her leg, peppering it with kisses until he reached her ankle. He flung her panties to the side with her discarded bra, bringing his mouth up to the apex of her legs. 

He bit into the soft meat of one of her thighs, before soothing it with a kiss and then doing the same to the other side. 

“Look how wet you are for me. Jesus,” he said, staring like he couldn't believe his luck. 

He leaned in and ran his tongue along her seam, holding Samira's hips down when they bucked off the bed at the sensation, thumbs pressing in below her hipbones in a way she hoped would leave bruises. 

He dove into her, taking the lips of her cunt into his mouth and sucking before running his tongue through her again, collecting her wetness, until he was at her clit. He mouthed at her, and she thrashed at the sensation, throwing her head to the side to bite at the pillow. 

“No. Don't. Let me hear you. I need to hear you,” he instructed, before getting back to work. 

He ate her like a man starved, and she could tell he was doing this as much for himself as for her, but he pressed the flat of his tongue into her clit and a spark shot up her spine in such a way that she couldn't bring herself to care. She gasped wantonly.  

“I need…” she trailed off, trying to put words in their proper order. 

“Shhhhh.” He hushed. “I know, baby. I know what you need,” he said, before reaching up and pressing two fingers to her lips. “Can you get these wet for me?” He asked. 

She took his fingers into her mouth and sucked, circling them with her tongue, trying to coat them with saliva. He let out a huff of air and then pulled them from her mouth and brought them to her opening. 

He pushed the fingers inside of her and then returned his tongue to her clit. He gently pumped in and out of her before curving his fingers towards her abdomen, and brushing a spot inside of her that made her vision white out. She moaned loudly. 

“Right there?,” he asked, “That's what you need?” 

“Yes. Jack. Yes,” she replied, unable to speak in complete sentences. 

He returned to his ministrations, fingers dragging along her g-spot and tongue flat against her before taking her clit between his lips and sucking hard. 

Samira felt her orgasm crest, and she couldn't restrain herself from squeezing her legs together around Jack’s head as she rode out the pleasure against his tongue and hand.  

He withdrew his fingers from her before bringing them to his own lips and sucking her wetness off of them. “You taste out of this world,” he groaned. 

He moved his mouth back down to her opening and began lapping at her cunt. 

He traced his thumb up to the bundle of nerves at the top, feather light. 

“Jack. Jack, it's too much,” Samira whined, desperate for more and less at the same time. 

“Shhh. You're gonna give me another one, okay? I know you can do it. Be good for me,” he told her, before bringing his tongue back to her entrance. 

Samira thought she might come again from just his words but that proved unnecessary. With his tongue pressing in and out of her and his thumb rubbing the gentlest circles at her clit, it wasn't long until she felt another orgasm peak.

She shouted his name, the only word she could still coherently manage, as he continued to touch her through it. 

When she came back down, she saw that Jack had pulled up to lay down next to her, his face more dazed than smug, but still plenty smug. 

“I told you it wouldn't be a problem,” he said. 

Samira groaned, feeling her face heat. “Pants. Off,” she demanded and he lifted his hips to slide both his pants and his underwear down over his legs and his prosthetic. 

She glanced down at the carbon fiber replacement before returning to his face and as gently as she could manage asking “On or off?” 

“That depends on how you wanna play this,” he replied, smiling. 

“I want to ride you, I think, if you want” she said, feigning more confidence than she felt.

“Then the leg can come off,” he allowed, reaching down to undo the clasp, releasing the leg and rolling the silicone sleeve down and off. “And yes. I very much want,” he added. “Condom?” 

Samira knew she should know better. But she didn't want anything between them. “You’ve had a vasectomy, and I have an IUD….” She trailed off before adding “And I got tested the last time there was an event at the hospital. All good.” 

She looked at him expectantly. “Yeah. I got tested then, too. Also good.” He stopped. “Samira, are you sure?” He asked, tone serious. 

“Very sure. I want to feel you,” she admitted. “But if you don't want to–” 

“Don't finish that sentence. God. You're so fucking smart. One of the smartest people I've ever met, but somehow you can't seem to wrap that big beautiful brain around all the fucking things I want . For the sake of time saving moving forward, just assume that when it comes to you, I want everything.” 

Samira felt herself buoyed by his desire for her. She rolled over so that she was straddling him, knees on either side of his waist. She bent down and pressed a kiss to lips, tasting the remnants of herself there. 

She reached between them and circled her hand around his cock, working up and down the shaft. He was hard, a good length and thicker than anyone she had been with. 

“Mira, honey, as good as that feels, I don't want to finish in your hand,” he gritted out, sounding pained. 

She raised her hips, moving to position his tip at her entrance, and began to sink down onto him. 

“Easy, baby. Take your time. Don't want to hurt you,” he cooed, hands at her hips, slowing her descent. 

“I want it. I like the stretch,” she moaned. 

“You're going to kill me,” he breathed as she seated him fully inside her. 

The feeling of being so full of him made her head spin. She began to lift up and down and he brought his hands up to cup both of her breasts, thumbs working her nipples back into peaks. She rolled her hips searching for the right angle, and she felt his body tense beneath her. 

“Sweetheart. I'm not gonna last long like this. You're too beautiful bouncing up and down like that. But I promise I'll make it up to you.” 

He brought his thumb to her lips this time, slipping it inside. She ran her tongue along it before scraping it with her teeth as he pulled it back out. He brought it to the place where their pelvises were joined, rubbing it up against her clit.  

“Give me one more, sweetheart. Come on. Take what you need from me,” he encouraged. 

She whined and picked up her pace, leaning backwards so that his cock brushed against her g-spot every time she raised her hips, and his thumb pressed against her clit every time she sank down. 

“That's so good. Good girl. You're so close aren't you?”

Through the fog in her head, she nodded. 

“You can do it. I know you can. So smart. So beautiful for me,” Jack encouraged, and it was enough to push her over the edge. 

She rode out her orgasm, feeling Jack’s body tense below her before going still as he finished inside her. 

“You really are something,” Jack breathed, flopping his head back against the pillow. 

Samira felt buoyant and loose-limbed. She laid down, pressing her ear to Jack's chest and exhaling. She stayed there for as long as she could justify before needing to use the bathroom and clean herself up. Jack protested, offering to clean her up, trying to hold her to him, but she wiggled free, teasing him about being a doctor and knowing better than to let a woman fall asleep after sex. 

She walked back through the door to the en suite, and Jack was sitting up in bed, under the covers. 

“I think I'm starting to get it. You want me to stay, right,” she asked, already knowing the answer. 

“For as long as you're willing to. If it were up to me, you'd never leave,” he said, his tone was joking, but his eyes were full of sincerity. He opened the covers for her, and she crawled in, curling her body into his.  

She felt him breathe her in and press delicate kisses to her cheek and jaw. She thought about the convoluted series of events and coincidences that led her to this moment, to being in bed with Jack Abbot. 

“I can hear the gears turning in your head,” he hummed into her shoulder. 

“Just thinking about that fact that the whole time, it was you,” she said. 

“It was always you, Samira. Even when I didn't know you were you , some part of me just knew it felt right.” 

She hummed in agreement, her body catching up to her. She laid her head across Jack’s chest, throwing her leg over his and relaxing into the sounds of his breathing. 

Tomorrow, there would be plenty to worry about. HR paperwork. How to tell her friends that the man she’d been messaging for weeks was their boss. With any luck, there would be a double feature with twizzlers and raisinettes. But as she curled herself into Jack’s arms, she fell into a peaceful sleep, full of nothing but hope. 

Chapter Text

Jack woke up from a heavy sleep for the first time in a long time. He was a chronic nightshift worker with enough trauma to put all three of his therapist's sons through college. He was used to sleeping in fits and starts and waking up groggy with a trazodone hangover. It had been years since he had found sleep easy. 

This morning, he woke rested, from dead sleep to wide awake. Samira's warm body pressed against him, the skin of her stomach, soft against his calloused hands, was the only thing that convinced him that last night had not been an elaborate dream.

It was real. He had been messaging Samira Mohan for weeks. They went on a date. She came home with them. They--

"Oh. Hello," Samira giggled, sleepily, pushing back against where he was standing at attention. She lifted his arm off her, then rolled to face him. "I am also happy to see you this morning," she said, cheekily, before stifling a yawn.

"I don't know that ‘happy’ fully encompasses the way I feel waking up with you in my bed right now," Jack admitted before he could stop himself.

"Sorry. I'm not used to eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. It's eradicating my filter,” he added, again noting that it was too easy to be fully himself with her. 

"Hmmmm. No complaints here," she replied, stretching her limbs above and below. "What are your plans today? You don't work tonight, right?"

"Nah. I'm off until tomorrow night," he answered. "I was thinking, if you have the day off today, too, we could have our movie marathon?" he asked, feeling apprehensive.

"I mean, we definitely don't have to. I don't want you to waste your day off on me if you have other things you could be doing," he added quickly, kicking himself for assuming she would want him monopolizing her time.

"I've told you, I don't do much outside of work. Movie marathon with you is my most exciting day off prospect in a long time," she reassured him. She leaned forward to press her lips softly against his. It was chaste, just a soft morning 'hello' but it warmed him all over. When their lips separated, she nuzzled her nose against his.  

"God. I bet my breath is horrible. Sorry. And I definitely need a shower if I'm staying here today." Jack couldn't imagine giving a damn about her morning breath or the sweat that had cooled on her skin after their activities last night, but if offering her a shower and a spare toothbrush could keep her in his space longer, he'd do it gladly.

"Take a shower," he said. "I've got a spare toothbrush I can set out for you, and I'll find some clothes for you to lounge in." He was tempted to suggest they shower together, but something stopped him. He knew she would probably need a moment to herself, and he was reluctant to broach all that came with showering minus half a leg on what was still technically their first date.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she rolled out of bed and tiptoed towards the en suite. "Take as much time as you need and make wildly liberal use of anything you need. I'll be in the kitchen," he told her, jokingly.

She closed the door, and he heard the water turn on as he found her a t-shirt worn soft and a pair of his sweatpants that had been shrunk in the dryer so they wouldn't hang off of her. He placed them on the bed before affixing his prosthetic and making his way to the kitchen.

He pulled out his phone and smiled to himself as he placed an instacart order for popcorn, sour gummy worms, raisinettes, and pull-n-peel twizzlers and requested delivery ASAP. He reluctantly opened a text from Walsh.

(Em Walsh)

How did it go with App Girl?

(Me)

It's Samira.

(Em Walsh)

Jesus. Not this again. I thought you were doing better. You seemed to like this girl. I thought we were at least making progress.

(Me)

No. I mean, the woman from the app is Samira Mohan.

(Em Walsh)

You have got to be kidding me.

(Me)

I would love to be kidding you. Unfortunately, I am not.

(Em Walsh)

What happened?

(Me)

I showed up for our date. We realized we had been talking to each other.

(Em Walsh)

And?

(Me)

And what?

(Em Walsh)

How was the date?

(Me)

What makes you think we went forward with the date?

(Em Walsh)

I've had a front row seat to your pining for years. The universe gave you an opening.

And also, I've met Mohan. You tried to bail and she's stubborn and smarter than you and talked you into dinner.

(Me)

Okay... So that is exactly what happened.

(Em Walsh)

Duh. How did it go?

(Me)

She may or may not be currently in my shower.

(Em Walsh)

You dirty did it this time.  

So I take it you are not, in fact, over her.

(Me)

Technically speaking, I was under her?

(Em Walsh)

Jesus. I don't think I've ever been so simultaneously proud and grossed out at the same time.

(Me)

It's still a bad idea.

(Em Walsh)

I know you. You've crossed the threshold. Do you really think you could go back to poorly restrained yearning?

(Me)

Right now, I think I'm poorly restraining a marriage proposal.

(Em Walsh)

Thank the universe for its blessing. Do the HR paperwork. Don't ask that poor girl to marry you yet.

(Me)

I can do that.

Oh and Em? Thank you.

(Em Walsh)

Happy to do it.

Samira toweled off her body and wrung the water out of her hair. Jack's shower was enormous, with a bench seat and handrails but also shower pressure that made her covetous. She ran her fingers across the surprising number of products on Jack's counter, finding a curl cream in a tube with a name she assumed was French, before squeezing some out and combing it through her waves. Jack hadn't set out a toothbrush for her but she knew there was one somewhere so she opened drawers until she found one in an unopened package and made use of it. 

Jack had laid out clothes for her on his bed, a soft UVW t-shirt and a pair of black sweats that she couldn't imagine fitting Jack. She pulled on the clothes and breathed in the smell that clung to the shirt, laundry detergent and a more concentrated scent of Jack that permeated the house. He smelled faintly of antiseptic that never quite washed all the way off, but also woodsy, warm. She let herself be enveloped in him.

Her mind wandered to the night before. Her shock at realizing Jack was the man she had been flirting with for weeks had quickly given way to something else. Like being a child and finding that a birthday candle wish had really come true. Jack had spoken of the things that he didn't think he was allowed to want and she had felt so seen. Every version of Jack she encountered made her feel seen. She had wanted him in the quiet recesses of her mind, and she was starting to realize that she could really have him, if she let herself.

She padded her way to the kitchen. The house was washed a warm gray, enough natural light coming in from all the windows, but slightly darkened by the moody sky outside. Samira wondered if they were due a thunderstorm when she was struck with the scent of strong coffee. Jack was standing at his counter, surrounded by ingredients–peppers, mushrooms, onions, cheese, and a carton of eggs. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he took her in from head to toe and back, his gaze a tad possessive.

He handed her a mug of coffee. "Sorry, baby. No chai, I'm afraid. I'll have to make a list of what you like when you make it at home. But I had vanilla syrup for the latte that I thought you might like."

Samira smiled at the implication. "You planning on me spending mornings here?" she asked with raised eyebrows. Taking a sip from the mug in her hands, she pulled back. "God, when you said fancy pants coffee, I didn't think it would be this good."

"I told you! And yes. Ideally, you'll be here many mornings to come." He grabbed a bowl and looked back to her. "I assume eggs and cheese are okay. Omelets?"

She nodded in assent but added, "No mushrooms, though, please. Everything else is a yes."

He looked at her appraisingly before he began cracking eggs into a bowl. "No mushrooms, ever?" He asked, as though he were making a list in his head.

"I took a mycology class in undergrad, and they've given me the creeps ever since," she explained.

He laughed at that, warm and low and unrestrained in a way she didn't often get to hear in the context of the hospital. This Jack was new to her. Relaxed and at home. She savored the feeling.

"You're such a nerd. But no mushrooms. Got it,” he said fondly.

Samira pulled out her phone while he got to work fixing their breakfasts. She knew she had to check-in but she was dreading the conversation.

(Chaos Incarnate)

Samira Marie Mohan

You dirty dog.

Your location has not changed since 9:52pm.  

(Me)

My middle name is not marie.

(Chaos Incarnate)

Everyone's middle name is marie.

(Me)

Maybe if you're white.

(Chaos Incarnate)

Not the point. You got some last night.

(Me)

I may have.

(Chaos Incarnate)

So mystery man will be a repeat customer?

I can't keep calling him Mystery Man. What's his name?

(Me)

About that. It's Jack.

(Chaos Incarnate)

Oh. That's funny. I always kind of thought you had a thing for a different Jack.

(Me)

Same Jack.

(Chaos Incarnate)

What do you mean?

(Me)

Mystery man turned out to be Dr. Jack Abbot.

(Chaos Incarnate)

Shut.

The.

Fuck

Up.

There is no fucking way.

Your hot widow who loves to eat box is our BOSS?

(Me)

He's not our boss.

(Chaos Incarnate)

He's not not our boss.

(Me)

Trinity, you can't tell anyone.

(Chaos Incarnate)

Okay. Okay. But it was good?

(Me)

It was the best date I've ever been on.

(Chaos Incarnate)

I mean, you are still there so I know it was good.

(Me)

Even if I hadn't gone home with him, it still would have been the best. Just talking to him. It's so easy.

(Chaos Incarnate)

You're so easy. 

How was the sex?

(Me)

Best after date I've ever been on.

(Chaos Incarnate)

He's always so focused and intense and on top of things. I can only imagine that translates.

(Me)

You have no idea.

(Chaos Incarnate)

And this is good? You don't feel coerced or anything?

(Me)

I'm exactly where I want to be.

(Chaos Incarnate)

Then I'm happy for you. And I promise not to tell anyone.

As long as anyone doesn't include Mel.

Wanna get coffee today?

(Me)

I think I might have plans today?

(Chaos Incarnate)

You mean you'd rather spend your day off having a boink marathon with our supervisor than with me? I'm hurt.

(Me)

Trinity.

(Chaos Incarnate)

I'm kidding. Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

(Me)

I mean, he's a man. So. I definitely already did.

(Chaos Incarnate)

HA!

She chuckled to herself as he sat her plate in front of her. "Something funny?" He prompted.

"Meddling lesbian," she replied, taking a bite. "God. You are a good cook. I think I might keep you."

"So you told Santos about us?" He asked, his face unreadable.

Samira suddenly felt a pang of guilt. They hadn't discussed how private they were going to keep whatever was developing between them. "I did. I hope that's okay. She said she won't tell anyone except Mel."

"I told mine as well. I mean, Walsh knows. We can keep it as quiet as you want outside of that, if that's what you want, but if this is something real, we are going to have to do some paperwork."

Samira turned over the words "something real" in her mind. This thing between them felt so substantial, but from the beginning, it had always felt easy. It didn't feel heavy. She didn't like the idea of weighing it down with secrets. "It's real for me. I'm fine with paperwork. Do you want me to go to HR before my shift tomorrow?"

Jack flushed, the color starting on his face but working its way down to where it disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. She had noticed him do the same last night. "I was actually thinking maybe we'd do it together?" he suggested, sounding nervous. "But if it's too soon for us to show up together, I understand."

"It's either been weeks or years in the making depending on where you want to start the clock. I'm not hiding you, Jack."

Jack started to say something when the doorbell rang. "You expecting company?" Samira asked.

"I'm expecting snacks," he replied before making his way to the front door and returning with a bag containing microwave popcorn, raisinettes, gummy worms, and her favorite twizzlers.

"You remembered," she smiled.

"I remember everything you say, sweetheart," he said, earnest.

He walked around to where she was sitting on a barstool at the counter and placed both hands on either side of her waist. She let herself just look at him, hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners and a jaw full of stubble she could feel the memory of between her legs. She'd always found him handsome, but something about seeing him in this context, comfortable in his home, in a morning that belonged to her, made her heart stutter step. She brought her hands up to his chest and tilted her head up, expectantly.

He smiled before kissing her softly on the lips and then the forehead.

"So. I really need to take a shower. Can I give you an assignment while I do?" He asked, his tone teasing.

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

"Bowls are in the cabinet next to the stove. Snoop as much as you want, but pop the popcorn and get cozy on the couch. Think you can manage that?" He asked.

Samira weighed the very real possibility that she would, in fact, burn the microwave popcorn but didn't want to tell Jack that. "I think I can manage," she said, hoping it was true.

—

Jack stepped out of the shower and weighed his options. Ordinarily, at home, he wouldn't walk around with his prosthetic, preferring instead to give his residual limb a break, using hand crutches. He decided on using the leg, pulling on the silicone sleeve and attaching the prosthesis.

He dressed in clothes like hers, a worn shirt and a grey pair of sweatpants, before making his way to the living room. As he stepped into the center of the house, he was assaulted with the acrid smell of burnt corn and artificial butter. He chuckled to himself then surveyed his living room. Samira was nestled into the worn leather couch. She had apparently found a heavy, knitted blanket and sat with it draped over her, a metal mixing bowl balanced in her lap, packages of candy and two water glasses on the coffee table in front of her.

He stood in the hallway and just took it in. Rain pattered against the windows and the sight of her, so cozy and comfortable–in his space like she belonged there–caused his heart to thud unevenly. He'd never allowed himself to imagine what she might look here, never allowing for the possibility that this was something he could have, but even if he had imagined it, he knew that it wouldn't have done this justice.

"So. Smells like I'm going to have to dock some points off the assignment," he said, as he approached the couch, and slid next to where she sat in the corner of the couch, pulling her blanket over his lap as well.

She pulled her lip between her teeth and smiled bashfully, dimples appearing like a gift. "I did burn the first two batches. But this one came out well."

"When you said you couldn't cook at all, I did not imagine that extended to microwaving popcorn," He laughed, pulling her legs so they rested over his lap. "What do you want to watch first?"  

"Age before beauty."

"Back to the Future it is," he replied, grabbing the remote off the table and searching until he found it, pressing play. She leaned down to grab a twizzler, handing it to him and turning her large brown eyes on him expectantly. He pulled a strand off the candy and tasted it.

"Substantially less plastic than I expected," he admitted.

"Told you," she smiled.

The opening credits rolled, but her eyes didn't leave his face. She looked almost nervous, her lower lip pulled between her teeth like she was debating whether or not to say something. Jack reached over and pulled one of her curls between his thumb and forefinger, grateful, for once, to be able to touch her casually, without worrying about consequences or implications. "Whatever it is that has that brain of yours churning like that, you can just say it," he murmured.

She looked unsure but then asked "Why are you wearing your leg? We're just on the couch. I can't imagine that's something you would do if I weren't here."

"No. I usually get around on hand crutches when it's just me," he admitted. "I didn't know what you'd be comfortable with."

"Honesty, remember? I just want you the way you are. I want you to be comfortable."

"Not sure what I did to deserve you," he said, and he meant it. He should have guessed that this, too, would be easy. He reached down, and unlatched the leg before leaning it against the back of the couch and resting the sleeve on top of it. "Better?" he asked.

"Almost." She placed the bowl to the side and moved so that they were pressed closer to each other, shoulder to shoulder, then threw one leg over his good one and nuzzled her head into his shoulder. He threw an arm around her, pulling her tight to his side and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in. "Now it's better," she said, before turning her attention back to the movie.  

They watched the movie mostly in companionable silence, Samira pulling gummy worms between her teeth. They found ways to touch each other. Jack twirled one of her errant curls between his fingers. Samira pressed her sour-sugared lips to Jack’s at random intervals.

"So he's just friends with this random old man and it's never addressed?" She asked at one point, out of nowhere.

"If you have a problem with age gaps, I have some very bad news about the decade I was born."

"Oh, shut up," she replied, rolling her eyes. "You're not that old. And I'm not that young."

"I'm plenty old. And I recall you saying you were in your thirties. You left out the part where you've been in your thirties for about 6 months," he chided, accusatory.  

"Still counts," she said. "And you're young enough for the things that matter," she replied, a twinkle of trouble in her eye.

Samira slid off the couch and knelt between his legs. She looked up at him, doe-eyed. 

“What are you doing, baby?” He asked, placing a hand on the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheek. 

“Something I recall you saying you enjoyed occasionally,” she said, her voice dripping with faux-innocence. “I lost points for burning the popcorn. Think of it as me earning extra credit,” she said, palming him through his boxers and pants. 

Jack felt lightheaded at her touch and the sight of her on her knees for him, all available blood leaving his brain and redirecting to more important places. He was already half hard when she reached her delicate hands into his waistband and wrapped her fingers around him. She worked him up and down, the angle was awkward through his sweatpants, but he didn't care. Her hands were warm and soft. 

“Mira, honey, you don't have to earn anything. I'll give you all the points you want,” he exhaled. He was fully hard faster than he had been in years.

Her eyes were still on him, pupils wide enough to nearly eclipse her brown irises. “It's more fun this way,” she said. “Can you help me?” She asked sweetly, nodding towards his lap. 

He lifted his hips and pulled his sweatpants and boxers down. She took him back in her hands, looking down at his lap. “I haven't done this on someone as big as you, you'll have to tell me if I'm doing okay.”

“Instruction and feedback. Got it,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth. 

“You do remember,” she said, sounding pleased, before leaning over him and licking underneath his cock from root to tip. She swirled her tongue around the head, and Jack gripped the blanket they had been sitting under tight in his fist, needing something to ground him. 

“Shirt,” he breathed out, frantic. “Take your shirt off, baby. Want to see your pretty tits.” 

She pulled off the shirt and sat back on her heels, shoulders pulled back. Her breasts were small, her dark skin so smooth. He reached down and took one in his hand, kneading its perfect weight. He brought her nipple between his finger and thumb and rolled it until she let out a whine. 

She leaned back in and took the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked. His eyes rolled back, but he continued to work the little bud of her nipple, and she hummed a moan. 

“Christ. Yes. I can feel your moans around my cock, sweetheart. So good.”

She attempted to take more of him into her mouth, unable to get all the way to the base, truly only getting about half way down before choking softly. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. 

“That your limit, baby?” He asked, bringing his hand to hold her hair gently at the root. She nodded around him. 

“Good. So good for me.”

She began to suck up and down in earnest and Jack knew this wouldn't take too long, her mouth so warm and tight around him, better than he had ever imagined alone with his own hand. 

“Use your hand, okay? Can you do that for me?” He half begged and she brought her hand up to the base of him that her lips couldn't reach and began working it in tandem with her mouth. 

Jack felt like a teenager, fooling around with the prettiest girl he'd ever seen on a couch while Back to the Future played, ignored in the background. 

As she sucked him up and down, she began to take more and more of him into her mouth each time, and he held back a chuckle, ever the quick student, he thought through the haze. And then she began twisting her hand around the base in time with her mouth and all thoughts left him.

“I'm gonna come, sweetheart. You're doing so well. Where do you want my cum?” He asked. 

She moved her hands down to cup his balls and looked up at him through dark eyelashes, a determined look in her eye, before she pushed her head down further than she had gone previously, and Jack felt his cock slip into her throat. That was all it took for him to fall over the edge, and he came in pulses, his hips canted up off the couch, pulling out slightly to let her breathe a little easier. She stayed still until his hips relaxed back into the couch. She looked up at him, eyes wide, and dropped her jaw, opening her mouth softly, showing him where she held his cum still in her mouth, blinking up at him. 

“Fucking Christ. Yeah. Thank you, baby. Do you wanna swallow for me?” She nodded, closing her mouth and her throat moved down and up before she opened her lips again to show him. 

“Up. Up up up,” he said, lifting her into his lap while pulling his sweatpants off her and leaving them in a pool on the ground. 

He took one of her breasts into his mouth and swirled a tongue around a nipple. She moaned, throwing her head back, and then he sucked hard and her hips ground down into where he was going soft between them. He felt a jolt of overstimulation but he couldn't bring himself to care when she was wiggling around his lap like that. 

He moved a hand to her cunt, and he gently dragged his middle finger between her folds, up and down, but avoiding touching the bundle of nerves at the top. 

“Jack, please,” she whined, breathy. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asked, just touch teasing. 

“Want you to touch me,” she complained. 

“I am touching you. You gotta use your words for me.” 

“I need to cum. Can you please make me cum, Dr. Abbot?” She begged, looking into his eyes desperate, but with a hint of mischief. 

“Brat,” he let out a choked laugh, trying not to think about how he would react the next time she called him by his title as they stood in a room full of colleagues or over a patient. 

He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and she kissed back, a clash of teeth and tongues. He flicked her other nipple with his thumb and pulled her lower lip between his teeth, just this side of too hard, eliciting a loud moan from her. 

“Please,” she tried again, pulling back.  “Touch me. Inside me. My clit. Anything. Need it,” she begged, sounding barely coherent. 

“It's okay. I know, baby. Good job using your words for me. I'll take care of you, okay?” He said, sincerely. 

He hooked two fingers inside of her and began pumping in and out of her. She moaned in approval. “Thank you.” 

Jack chuckled. “So polite,” he praised, his voice amused. 

She hooked her arms around his shoulder and  moved up and down in tandem with his fingers. He brought his thumb to her clit and began to rub in soft circles, remembering what had made her breath hitch the night before. 

“Jack, God. Jack, can you–” She started but seemed unable to finish the thought. Jack guessed at what she was asking for, curling the fingers inside her cunt so they brushed the front of her walls and bending his neck down to suck at the soft skin of her throat. 

“Yeah, just like that. Please. Please don't stop,” she cried. 

Jack continued to thrust in and out of her while working his thumb against the little bundle of nerves, careful not to change an angle or a rhythm. 

“You can do it, Mira. I know you can. So smart. So good for me,” he encouraged. 

“I want you to feel so good. Go on, soak my fingers. I want to feel it. Come for me, baby,” he instructed, needing to give her the words he knew she wanted. 

He felt her clench around his hand, and saw her open her mouth, but no sound came out except a choked exhale. She ground into him, riding out her orgasm on his lap. When she finished, she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his, trying to catch her breath.

Jack brushed a sweat soaked curl behind her ear before bringing his palm around to her back and rubbing up and down in a way that he hoped was soothing, grounding. 

“A+. Extra credit more than earned, I think,” he said, teasing, earning him a slap to his chest before Samira turned to situate herself half in his lap, facing the TV. 

“I don't think I'm gonna be able to follow the rest of the plot,” Samira admitted, as she pulled the blanket over the two of them. 

“It’s fine. I can rewind it for you or I can just tell you what you missed. You don't want to put our clothes back on?” 

“You can explain it. And no. If it's up to me, I want you like this,” she said, running her fingers over the arch of his tricep, tracing along his arm and up over his trapezius “I can't believe you look like this under your scrubs.”

Jack felt himself turn red. “I told you I work out.”

“That blush really does go all the way down, doesn't it?” She laughed, fingers curling in his chest hair. 

“Ginger habits die hard,” he shrugged. 

“You're a ginger ?” She asked, her eyes lighting up. 

“Used to be,” he admitted, the flush across his skin not budging.

“I feel like I know so much about you, but there's still so much I want to learn,” Samira sighed, leaning her head into the crook of his neck. 

“I tell you anything you want to know,” he said earnestly. He knew he would give this girl anything she asked for, anything within his power. If it wasn't within his power to give, he'd bargain anything he had to give it to her anyway. 

“It's never been this easy for me,” she said, shyness creeping into her voice. “You let me in like it's nothing.”

“It's not nothing, Mira. It's everything. I spent so long wanting you but thinking I'd never be able to have you. Now that I have you, doing whatever it takes to keep you, it's the easiest choice in the world.” He worried, again, that his honesty, showing her the breadth and depth of his feeling so soon would scare her off, but he couldn't stop himself. 

He need not have worried. “I choose you, too,” she said, a soft smile on her face. 

He pulled her close. The movie continued to play and raindrops beat against the roof. With Samira in his arms, his home felt more like a home than it had in a long time. 

“You don't think we're jumping into this too fast?” He asked, knowing his answer but needing hers. 

“You’re the one who said I don't ease into anything. You called it ‘a feet first just every chance I get.’ Said it would take you some time to get used to,” she teased. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, and he pressed his lips to her temple. “We've got nothing but time.”