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Contrary to popular belief (mostly his co-workers at the Pitt), Jack Abbot isn’t a stoic type of guy who doesn’t have friends. He does. He sees his old army buddies, he’s close with some of the doctors here at the Pitt, and Robby is probably the best friend, the closest thing he has to a brother in his life. So yeah, he has enough friends he thinks, but that doesn’t explain how one person manage to burrow their way inside him and make a home. No one has made a home of him since he was twenty-five years old and he met his wife. Jack had found warmth in the home he made in his wife’s heart and when she died ten years ago, that warmth, that love, the key to his happiness and his home was also buried six feet under with her. Not many things can catch Jack off guard but this friendship, this whatever the hell it was, these feelings he thought were long gone, dead and buried six feet under with his wife, shook him to his core and it felt like he was back in the warzone holding his breath, feeling the ground shake beneath him as explosives went off. The realization of all this, of all these feelings, well, it’s not great. It’s not good. Jack Abbot is well and truly fucked.
Jack can’t exactly pinpoint when something shifted but it was definitely before PittFest. There was just something about Samira Mohan that Jack couldn’t shake. He knew, he said it that morning of PittFest, he’s said it before, but Mohan was the smartest one in the room. A bright mind with a brighter smile.
“What else do you got in your go bag?” And Jack remembers he could see that grin of hers from the corner of his eyes knowing it made her entire face light up. It’s why when she was walking away he let himself give a little smile and glance behind him to watch her for a second. If he was hooked up to a machine he knows his heartrate would increase to dangerous territories.
Which is exactly the current problem he’s dealing with.
After PittFest, at the end of the night when the few of them were in the park drinking beers, they were the last of the group to stay. There was a quiet peace that had settled between the two of them as they were nursing the last of their beers. And then –
“I almost pulled a double.”
Jack raised an eyebrow and cocked his head towards Samira. She was looking straight ahead seemingly staring at nothing.
“Decided against it?” he asked.
This time she turned her head towards him and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She shook her head. “No, I was told to go home and then had a bit of a breakdown in the bathroom because everything hit all at once.”
Jack hums in understanding. “Ah, adrenaline crash huh?”
She nodded and let out a shaky breath turning her head away, tipping it back and closing her eyes.
In the quiet that settled between them again, Jack took a minute to study her face committing it to memory. His fingers itched with the need to tuck a wayward strand of her behind her ear. He noticed while working with her every now and then that strands of her hair would get loose and fall on her face. Each time it caught his breath and he always felt the ache, the need he felt to touch them, to tuck them away.
God, he thinks, she’s so fucking beautiful. But also – oh fuck. Oh no.
He must have been staring for too long because Samira turned her head towards him, a small smile forming with maybe a little bit of knowing eyes. No, he thinks, just wishful thinking on his part.
But then that smile disappeared and she looked down at the park pathway leading out. She let out a sigh and stood up turning towards him.
“Home time, I guess,” she said somberly. She ran a hand through her hair, glancing towards the path and Jack tracked the movement of her hand in her hair. She looked away from the path and looked down at him and frowned looking like she was debating something. He quirked up an eyebrow at her and she let out a huff that sounded like a laugh before taking a deep breath and letting it out.
“Sorry, I just – I,” she closes her eyes for a brief second before opening them again. “I really don’t want to go back to an empty apartment right now but I don’t know what else to do.”
Normally a calm, cool and collected person, Jack notices the nervous energy and the fidgeting as she continues to frown. He looks at his prosthetic leg before grabbing it and putting it back on and standing up. He grabs her half-finished beer and tosses it in the trash along with his. Grabbing his bag and swinging it on his shoulder, he turns back to Samira and gives her a smile.
“Well Dr. Mohan, I could go for a bite to eat and could use the company,” he tells her and she returns his smile, before glancing down at his leg with furrowed eyebrows before meeting his eyes again.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be an inconvenience if you want to go home and relax.”
He gives her a look and she laughs this time giving him a grin that he swears he can feel in his bones.
And maybe, maybe that was when it started. The slow burn he never saw coming. The way she looks at him, the way she smiles when he praises her, and the way she laughs when he says something dumb or something funny. It’s something he doesn’t think he’s ever felt. He knows the love he had for his wife was real. It was a cliché the way they fell in love at first sight, but they defied the odds and made it work through thick and thin, for better or for worse. Created a home. When Jack watches Samira laugh, eyes lit up with a happiness he doesn’t think he sees often in them, he thinks that home can be more than one person. A second chance. A fresh start. But then he remembers, despite the closeness they’ve developed the following months after PittFest, she’s still a resident and he still is an attending in the department she’s doing her residency in. He’s also almost fifteen years older than her and she deserves better than a man his age with a whole lot of baggage.
Yet after PittFest, after the bench in the park, after grabbing something to eat at a diner nearby that same night, he tries to put a distance between them but somehow it doesn’t work. Maybe he doesn’t try hard enough or maybe it’s just one smile from her that makes his heart ache with so much want that he’s stuck in this situation. Because after the diner, it somehow becomes tradition to go out to eat after a shift they have together to the point where it progresses to random text messages to each other about everything and nothing, to making plans before shift to have breakfast if they’re working together, to his current predicament which is that their hangouts have progressed to her currently sitting on his kitchen floor pouring over one of his old medical journals, with Duke, his emotional support service dog, while he cooks them dinner. And fuck he could get used to this. He really, really could. Duke has his golden head rested on her thigh with his eyes closed while she absentmindedly pets the top of his head. It’s silly that he feels jealous of his damn dog having his head rested in her lap and he could imagine how it would feel to have her hands run through his hair. Peaceful, blissful. Just like how Duke looks like right now.
“Hey Mohan, get your ass up, food’s ready,” he tells her. “Unless you want to continue sitting on the hard floor then by all means. I’m not stopping you.”
She looks up to find him over her with a smirk on his face and rolls her eyes with fondness. Marking her place in the journal, she starts to get up but frowns looking at Duke who still has his head rested on her thigh. She pouts and looks back up at Jack whose smirk has changed into a something soft while watching her.
“He’s looks so peaceful I don’t want to disturb him.”
This woman, he thinks.
He gives her a look that he knows can’t hide the affection and warmth he feels in that moment and lets out a soft whistle that has Duke’s eyes opening and standing up alert and ready.
“Sorry Duke, she’s not your bed but I have food for you,” Jack says crouching down to give Duke a little playful shake and pet before guiding him over to his food bowl. He hears Samira get up and let out a groan as she stretches out her limbs. After Duke settles into eating his food, he grabs his and Samira’s plates of pasta and places them on the small dinner table he has in his kitchen. Samira settles into her chair (which gives him whiplash because she does have a designated chair at this table that she’s claimed as her own. How did that even happen?) and gives him a mischievous grin.
“Thank you, Dr. Abbot for slaving over this.”
He rolls his eyes. “Jack, Mohan. Jack. You know this.”
“Samira, Dr. Abbot. Samira. You know this,” she throws back in his face with a smirk and takes a forkful of pasta and eats it. There’s a bright sparkle in her eyes that he wishes he could take a picture of and keep tucked close to his heart. He huffs out a laugh and digs into his own food.
They talk about what she read in his journal and the conversation turns to other medical procedures he did out in the battlefield, with her listening attentively and taking notes in her head.
It’s easy for Jack to talk about his time in the army, the hard parts and the good parts, seldom as they were, next to nothing really, to her. She didn’t judge. She listened and asked questions, and was quiet during the harder parts of stories, letting him gain control of his emotions when he needed to. A silent support system. A steady presence by his side that he hadn’t felt in years.
When they finish eating, Samira gets up and clears the table to do the dishes. Jack has tried countless time to get her to stop doing that, that it’s fine, he can do the cleanup himself, but she’s been here so often now that he knows not to argue with her about it anymore. Instead, he has Duke follow him to the doors leading to the backyard so he can run around for a bit and relieve himself. He sits on one of the patio chairs, closing his eyes and enjoying the sun, listening to the water running from the kitchen tap, with the dishes making a soft clanging noise and yeah, he could get used to this, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how to stop what he’s feeling for the woman who without knowing it, reached into the ground and dug up a rusted key that feels brand new again. All Jack knows is that despite the non-platonic feelings he’s having, he doesn’t want to ruin one of the best friendships he’s ever had. So those feelings will stay locked away behind a door, tucked away in his lungs. Sometimes it’ll be hard to breathe, but other times with moments like this, make it worth it.
He opens his eyes and looks behind him when he hears the screen door open, tracking Samira’s movements as she makes her way to the seat beside him. Watches as she tilts her head back, closes her eyes and basks in the evening sunlight.
Jack’s not a poetic guy.
But the way Samira looks, glowing in the evening sun, soft smile gracing her face, he knows he’ll never see anything more breathtaking then the picture she paints right now. He commits the moment to memory, a beacon of light in a place swirled in darkness.
The moment breaks when Duke comes bounding up the deck stairs and happily pounces on her, dropping a ball in her lap. Jack watches as she laughs at Duke, picks up the ball and throws out onto the grass where Duke chases after it. She does it a few more times before Duke settles down beside her chair, closing his eyes.
“You’re going to the hospital gala this weekend, right?” She asks.
Jack gives her a puzzled look. “Yes. I thought we discussed this?”
She hesitates before looking over at him. Nervousness written all over her face.
“I know. I just, I – I guess I’m a bit nervous since it’s my first one. I don’t know how I’ll be able to charm donors and on top of that it makes me feel a little gross but I know we need those donations so we can help people and I also don’t have a dress yet and it’s three days away, Jack, what am I supposed to do? There’s so much to do, so much to prep-” Jack cuts her off by putting his hand over her mouth and laughs at the frantic look in her eyes.
“Samira. Settle down.”
He feels a puff air against his palm as she exhales through her nose. After giving him a nod to indicate she’s okay, he moves his hand away from her mouth ignoring the tingling in his palm.
“These things do suck, schmoozing up to people and basically begging them for money in the nicest way possible, but remember, I’m there. Robby’s there. The people you work with, the people you’re now friends with,” he gives her a pointed look at that while she gives him a sheepish one. “You’ll be okay. I promise.”
She nods.
He smirks and then, “Can’t help you with the dress though. That’s all on you for leaving it so last minute.”
Samira groans and covers her face.
“I only have one day off before then and it’s tomorrow! I have one day to go dress hunting! I’m doomed! What if I don’t find anything?!”
“Samira. You’ll be fine,” Jack tells her firmly, hands reaching towards hers. He uncovers her face and she blinks at him as he gives her hands a squeeze before dropping them. She takes a moment to study his face and nods when she finds what she’s looking for.
“I’ll drag Santos to come with me. She’ll be honest which I need even if I don’t want it sometimes,” she says sighing and Jack laughs at her pouting face.
“See? You’ll be fine,” he says again and Samira gives him a smile.
Jack is one hundred percent not fine at all.
Nope.
Not at all.
He is well and truly fucked.
Because when it comes to Samira Mohan, he always knows when she enters the room. It’s a sixth sense specifically tailored for her.
Which is why he currently is definitely not fine. She enters the room and Jack can’t breathe. He knows she’s beautiful, okay? She’s beautiful when she’s working with her patients. She’s beautiful when she’s doing medical procedures with a look in her eyes because she loves what she does. She’s beautiful all the time. But right now, she’s ethereal and Jack can’t help himself. He stares.
She’s wearing a deep wine-coloured dress that makes her skin look like it’s glowing and when he rakes his eyes down her body, leg exposed from the high slit that reaches just the top of her thighs and he swallows hard. It’s when she turns her body around to greet someone and sees her back exposed, barely covered by the halter tie that drapes behind her that he feels himself go hot all over.
“You’re staring.”
Jack startles at the voice and turns towards it and oh, yeah. Fuck. He forgot he was in the middle of a conversation with Robby when Samira had come in.
Robby’s giving him a look that Jack is all too familiar with and he really needs to lockdown his feelings. He can’t keep giving himself away like this. Especially to someone like Robby who has known Jack for years and has known Jack.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack says, feigning ignorance.
Robby gives him a disapproving look. “Yes, you do.”
Jack looks back to where Samira is throwing her head back in laughter at something Dr. King says and he feels the thumpthumpthump of his heart racing.
“Jack.”
Jack schools his face into something that isn’t showing how pathetically he is pining after her and Robby’s looking at him like he knows.
Jack lets out a shaky breath.
“I know, Robby. I know, okay?”
“I know I have no room to talk but be careful okay?” Robby warns him, eyes flickering to something behind Jack.
Jack already knows who it is before he turns around and when he does, he’s hit full force with the beauty that is Samira Mohan.
“Hi Dr. Robby. Hi Dr. Abbot,” Samira smiles at them both but her eyes linger a little longer on Jack, sweeping him from head to toe.
“Samira,” Robby greets her and smiles. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She gives him a grin and turns her attention to Jack who hasn’t stopped staring at her. He can see her gaze soften when she looks at him (or maybe that was a trick of the light) and Jack aches with a want he’s never felt before.
He knows he should say something but for some reason all he can do is stare and it isn’t until Robby clears his throat that he snaps out of it.
There’s another look Robby’s giving him and this one Jack knows all too well. This one is one he’s seen one too many times. One that says, you are so fucking embarrassing. And Jack can’t help it, he shrugs and gives Robby a smirk that has him rolling his eyes.
“Well, I’ll see you two around. I have to work the room before I hear about it from Gloria,” Robby tells them before walking away. Jack doesn’t even acknowledge him at all and he knows Robby’s going to give another earful later but he doesn’t care.
All he cares about is the woman in front of him.
There’s a twinkle in Samira’s eyes when she says, “Cat got your tongue?”
Jack laughs and shakes his head, giving her a teasing grin.
“And you said you wouldn’t find anything last minute.”
Samira shrugs, still smiling. “Well it helped having Santos there. We went to one store and she forced me try everything and we landed on this.”
Jack gives her another once over this time taking his time. Making his way up from her feet that are clad in silver heels, to the leg that’s exposed from the slit, to her bare shoulders and finally to her face, taking it all in. She’s wearing a soft look that he’s noticed is only reserved for him but he doesn’t think anything of it. They’re friends. That’s it. He needs to keep reminding himself of that especially in moments like this where he looks at her and craves her.
“You do look stunning,” Jack admits, giving her a smile that’s only reserved for her. Samira’s face brightens at the compliment and if possible, her smile gets bigger.
“You don’t clean up bad yourself, Dr. Abbot,” she teases.
He gives her a shrug. “Eh, I’m alright.”
She gives him a look and if he didn’t know better it was a heated one or maybe it was wishful thinking because as soon as it appeared, it was gone.
“More than alright, Dr. Abbot,” she says in a low voice, eyes filled with – something. Jack can’t pinpoint what it is, but he feels the swoop in his stomach and ignores the feeling.
“Well Dr. Mohan, we better work the room as well. I can feel Robby glaring at me for making him do this by himself,” he smirks and looks behind him briefly to see that yes, indeed, Robby is giving him a death stare as he’s trapped in conversation with Gloria and some rich donators. He looks back at Samira and her gaze is still fixed on him. She startles a bit when he clears his throat and raises an arm.
“Shall we?”
There’s a brief hesitation on her part and maybe Jack crossed a line and he’s about to put his arm down and apologize when she accepts his arm and loops hers around his. Giving him a smile and quick squeeze on his arm, she nods.
“We shall.”
The night is in full swing with everyone on the edge of tipsiness or already drunk. There’s laughter and people dancing out on the dance floor and Jack feels exhaustion hit him. It was tiring talking to the hospital donors and people he really couldn’t care less about because they don’t know what it’s like to be in that emergency room. They don’t know what it feels to be covered in someone’s blood, putting a finger in someone’s body, in their heart, to save their life. They don’t know the cries of a patient’s family, of parents who lost a child. All they care about is their money and if their money is going to place deemed worthy. Jack fucking hates these galas. He’s exhausted and hungry and he wants to go home to rest his aching leg.
He’s sitting at his designated seat thinking of an escape plan when someone plops down in the chair beside him.
His sixth sense and the smell of her perfume. He already knows who it isn’t without looking.
“I can tell you’re plotting your escape. Already tapping out, old man?”
He turns his head towards her and narrows his eyes. Samira’s giving him a teasing grin so he leans his head closer towards her, keeping eye contact. He hears her breath catch and the exhaustion he was feeling briefly goes away.
“Nothing old about me, Dr. Mohan,” he whispers and her eyes dilate. He leans back smirking, giving her a wink, satisfied with the reaction he got from her. He watches as she lets out a breath and gently shakes her head as if she was snapping out of something. He turns his attention back towards the exit but then –
“Do you want to dance?” Samira asks and Jack looks at her in surprise. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she looked nervous. The music has changed to something slower and intimate and granted, him and Samira have been close before when working on patients but that’s work. This isn’t.
He must have taken too long to answer because Samira’s face changes to something that looks like embarrassment and no, he can’t have that. So, before she takes her words back, he stands up and offers his hand down to her.
He smiles. “Only if you can keep up with me.”
Embarrassment gone and a big smile gracing her face once again, she takes his hand and stands up. “Talk is cheap, Dr. Abbot.”
If possible his smile gets bigger and he leads her out onto the dance floor. She turns to face him and steps in close, closer than they’ve ever been, and puts her arms around his neck. He swallows hard and places his own hands on her back – her bare back – and he feels like he’s been struck by lightning with the feel of her warm back under his hands. This time it’s him with the hitch in his breath. The desire he feels, the want, it’s overwhelming. They’re swaying to the song, with her tucked in close that when she whispers in his ear, he feels goosebumps all over his body.
“Don’t worry, old man. We’ll make a break for it after this.”
He can hear the smile, the smirk, in her voice and all he can do is huff out a soft laugh even though his whole body feels like it’s on fire. This time he whispers in her ear.
“Thought I told you there’s nothing old about me, Dr. Mohan.”
This time he feels her tense up and the shiver that goes through her body and it takes everything in him not to pull her against him and find an empty room. He hears – and feels – her letting out a shaky breath before relaxing. She lets out a hum and they continue to sway.
It feels magical.
It feels perfect.
Like she was made specifically for her to fit together with him.
He never wants to let her go.
But the song ends and they break apart and he lets his hands fall from her bare back and she lets her arms down. They stare at each other for a moment before he cracks a smile and she gives him one in return like he already knows what he’s thinking.
“Irish goodbye?” he says.
She grins.
“Let’s go.”
While the weather has gotten warmer with summer starting, the night air is still a little bit chilly and he notices when Samira crosses her arms and rubs them to make herself warm. He takes off his tux jacket and hands it over to her.
“Here, so you don’t get cold.” He gives her a reproachful look and she has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but accepts the jacket and pulls it on.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea because now she’s in his jacket and some stupid part of him feels possessive, like she’s right at home in it, like she belongs to him and everyone lingering outside from the gala knows. He likes that. That they think she might be his.
He also feels like a fucking idiot for feeling that way.
“Thank you,” she smiles at him, tucking herself in the jacket.
He nods. They’re waiting for the valet to bring his truck around and when it does, he tips the valet driver and he opens the passenger door for Samira. She smiles and thanks him before he walks around to the driver’s side and gets in before they pull away from the hotel.
He hears Samira let out a sigh of relief and he takes a quick glance at her, sees that’s she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, before focusing back on the road.
“All good?” he asks.
“Yeah. It’s just. It really sucked that we were basically pimping ourselves out for people to donate to the hospital,” she answers. “But it was made easier having you, Robby, and everyone else around. But still. I feel gross even if it is for the greater good.”
Jack hums in agreement. “Only way to get through events like that is having good company around to keep you sane.” He stops at the red light and looks at her again. She’s looking back. “That and well, it’s nice to have someone around that will stop you from throwing a punch at some of those idiots.”
Samira throws her head back and laughs and Jack soaks it all in, letting the sound of her happiness nestle inside him.
He looks back at the lights just as they turn green and he continues to drive.
“You really looked like you wanted to deck Mr. Howard,” she says, continuing to laugh.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, he’d deserve it. Talking down to you like that.”
“My knight in shining armour,” she teases.
“Keep laughing Mohan, or you won’t be getting any of that pizza I was planning on getting on the way home,” Jack threatens her. He chances another look at her briefly and she still has a grin on her face. She mimes zipping up her lips and he laughs, shakes his head and looks back at the road.
After grabbing pizza from Fiori’s, it’s nearing 1am when Jack finally pulls them up to his house and parks in his driveway. It’s only then he realizes it’s 1am and Samira is at his house and he didn’t even think to drive her to her apartment and fuck. He really is an idiot.
“Shit. I’m so sorry Samira. I’ll drive you home. I didn’t even think. I guess my brain is exhausted because I just drove to my home instead of taking you home. I’ll -”
“Jack,” Samira interrupts.
He shuts up and looks at her. She’s smiling at him softly, still in his god damn jacket looking every bit like she’s his.
“It’s okay. It’s late. You’re exhausted, Jack. I know your leg is bothering you and you want to take your prosthetic off and relax. I’ll crash in your guest room tonight, okay?” she says, softly.
All he can do his nod and utter another apology to which she rolls her eyes at.
“It’s fine, Jack. Now let’s go inside, eat and relax. Duke is also waiting.”
She grabs the pizza and the heels she had taken off on the drive to his home and gets out of the truck while he follows behind her. Unlocking the door, he flickers on the lights of the foyer and he hears the running of Duke’s paws before he sees him. Samira drops her heels and hands the pizza box over to him before dropping down to greet Duke who happily, by the sound of his pants and the wagging of his tail, reciprocates.
“I bet you were the best boy today, huh?” Samira coos at him while petting him. Duke lets out a happy bark and she laughs as he flops on his back exposing his stomach for more rubs, which she happily gives him.
Jack is so utterly gone for her and watching her like this, in his home, with his dog, well. He really never stood a chance, did he?
He watches them for another minute soaking in the happiness, the feeling of home he’s aching for, before taking a shaky breath and letting it out. He makes his way towards the kitchen and drops the pizza box down onto the same table they were eating at the other day. He hears Duke’s paws and the soft footfalls of Samira’s bare feet on his floor making their way to the kitchen. Duke presses his snout onto the back of Jack’s calf and Jack laughs and turns around, putting his hands on his hips, as he looks down at Duke who’s sitting on his hinds.
“Oh, now you remember me? You little traitor,” he teases but he reaches down gives Duke some love. He hears the kitchen tap running, knowing Samira is washing her hands. Before he does the same, he makes his way to the door to the backyard, turning on his backyard lights, and let’s Duke out to relieve himself. While Duke does his business, Jack unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves and pushes them up, making his way to the sink that Samira was at, who has disappeared from the kitchen.
Frowning in confusion, Jack is about to call out to her when she reappears smiling and with his crutches in her hands.
“Thought you’d might need these,” she says.
It takes every fibre in Jack’s body not to kiss her right then and there. To expose everything he’s feeling for her in that moment. He wants to reach into his chest, take out his heart and show her, like look, you are nestled into here and I can’t get you out.
Jack aches with so much want.
He doesn’t do any of that no matter how much his body, his mind, his soul is crying out for him to. Instead, he gratefully takes his crutches from her and sits down on the chair at the table and proceeds to do something that’s muscle memory to him. He hears her patter towards the backyard door and proceeds to let Duke in before closing it, locking it and then sitting down in her chair.
It’s all so domestic.
After taking off his prosthetic and giving the stump a good massage, he turns his body towards Samira who’s watching him while eating. He gives her a quirk of his eyebrows and she just shakes her head, a smile tugging on the corner of her lips. They both eat in a comfortable silence, feeding Duke a few times with some of the toppings before he’s cut off.
Jack finishes off his final slice and groans, stretching his arms above his head, then pulls them down, crossing them across his chest and slumping back in the chair and closing his eyes, feeling satisfied.
The hectic evening and socialization must have caught up to him because he briefly dozes off, but feels soft fingers carding through his hair, waking him up. He’s greeted with Samira’s angelic face looking at him with a look on her face he sees often but can never quite pinpoint what it’s supposed to mean. Jack should feel embarrassed that he fell asleep in front of her, at the kitchen table of all places, but the feeling of her fingers in his curls feels too good to really give it much thought at the moment. Right now, he knows how Duke must feel when she’s petting him. Content. Safe. Lov-
That sobering thought wakes him up fully and he straightens in his chair, feeling the loss of Samira’s hand in his hair already.
“Shit. It’s pretty late. Sorry, I’m exhausted. I’m sure you are too. I’ll get you some clothes to wear to bed,” he says and he grabs his crutches and avoids eye contact with her. He makes his way to his bedroom, with Duke following behind, and turns on the lights. Making his way to his dressers he pulls it open, pulling out a pair of sweat shorts and an old faded Steelers t-shirt. As an afterthought, he also grabs a hoodie.
When he turns around, Samira is standing in his doorway with a concerned look on her face.
“Jack.”
She’s still swimming in his jacket.
“Are you okay?” she asks, hesitating before changing her mind and coming to stop in front of him to gently take his clothes from his hands.
“Yeah, I,” he clears his throat, gives her a smile that he doesn’t really feel. “Just exhausted.”
She searches his face for a moment before sighing and nodding. Giving him a tired smile, she bids him goodnight and he watches as she walks out of his room, makes her way to his guest room and hears her close the door gently.
He looks down at Duke who has his gaze out in the hall where Samira had left before he looks back up at Jack.
Great. His damn dog is judging him.
“Yeah, buddy. I’m an idiot.”
Jack just needs to get a few hours of sleep to get his head on straight. They’re friends. She’s a resident. He’s an attending. That’s it. That’s all it’ll ever be and he needs to remind himself of that. Let the fantasy of something more stay in his dreams.
It’s too bad the dreams he had were nightmares which has him waking up in a panic, confused about his surroundings until he hears the whimpers of Duke who’s sticking his nose in his face and trying to comfort him. Jack takes a moment to calm his racing heart, takes stock of his surroundings – breathing in and out – and petting Duke before he’s able to sit up. When he does he looks at the clock on his night stand and see it’s just a little past 7am. When gets his bearings on straight, he grabs his crutches and makes his way to his ensuite bathroom.
It’s when he’s out his bathroom, changing into another set of comfortable clothes that he smells the aroma of food.
Delicious food that is making his stomach grumble in hunger.
Following the scent of the food he makes his way out of his bedroom towards the kitchen where he’s stopped in his track with a humming Samira wearing his clothes.
Okay so maybe Jack did forget he gave her some of his clothes to wear last night. Just like she how she looked wearing his tux jacket, she looks even better wearing his t-shirt. It’s oversized on her but it looks like she belongs in it.
Just like how she belongs in every aspect, every corner of his home.
She must have heard him because she stops humming and turns around from the stove and he’s greeted with her bare face and a beaming smile.
She was stunning last night but Jack thinks she’s picture perfect right now. Her best version when she isn’t interacting with patients and saving lives.
“Morning! Thought I’d make you pancakes as a thank you for crashing in your guest room and stealing your clothes,” she says, still smiling at him before turning around and turning off the stove and putting the last of the pancakes on both their plates.
Jack makes his way to the island and sits atop on the stool there and Samira slides his plate over with utensils and the syrup. Clearly, she’s been up for a while because there’s a couple small bowls of fruits also on top of the island top and she had Duke’s food and water ready for him. He looks up from the food that’s been laid out and gives her a look.
“Samira.”
She has the audacity to roll her eyes at him.
“I know what you’re going to say.” She makes her way over with her plate and sits on the stool beside him, giving him a slight bump on his shoulder in jest. “But you shouldn’t be saying anything because you’re also up early.”
He sighs. “Yes, but that’s different.”
She gives him an incredulous look.
“It is,” he insists. “I’ve been used to it for years and I can function on little sleep. You know this.”
He can tell she’s not buying his answer because she just rolls her eyes again and shakes her head at him, not bothering to argue with him.
They dig into their food after that and he knows that when she’s over at his place, he tends to do most of the cooking and he doesn’t mind, he likes taking care of her. But then he’s reminded that she knows how to cook damn well and these pancakes are proof of that.
He remembers her telling him that after her dad died, her mom became sort of a shell of the person she was. They had no family around, (“It’s a bit of a complicated love story,” she had told him when he had asked why. “I’ve got time,” he said) and she was an only child. She told him her mom had functioned enough to go to work and to come home but most of the time, Samira had to fend for herself because her mom was losing herself to the grief of losing her husband and Samira didn’t want to burden her with stuff like cooking. She was old enough to cook and before he had died, she and her dad would spend hours in the kitchen with him teaching her how to cook traditional Indian food and other cuisines as well. The important ones, she had said, were written down on cue cards. (“I still have them. I got them laminated so they wouldn’t fade. A piece of him that can’t be taken away from me,” she’d told him, a faraway look in her eyes. “My most prized possession,” she said with a sad smile and tears in her eyes. And Jack’s heart had ached with the grief he saw on her face.) Samira had told him that for months she was cooking for her mother and herself. She’d practice recipes and try new ones, with her books laid out on the countertops too so she could study. When her mother had awoken from the grief, slowly coming back to herself, Samira had said she still cooked often, (“Why?” he asked. She had curled into herself at that point. Knees pulled up to her chest, arms around her legs, she had quietly said, “It was the closest I could get to being with my dad again.” And well, didn’t that break his heart?)
So, to know all that and to know that Samira feels comfortable enough to cook in his kitchen, well, it settles something in him.
He takes another forkful and moans.
“Fucking amazing,” he says but it comes out more like he was speaking gibberish. Samira must have understood what he was saying because her face is glowing with happiness when she laughs at him.
“You’re welcome,” she grins.
After the gala, after Samira went home hours after the breakfast she made, (“It’s a day off Jack. Don’t turn on the police scanner,” she had warned him. He had given her an unimpressed look as he pointed out she was reading through his old medical journal. She had given him an innocent look, but had slowly closed the journal, also conceding. “Okay, movie then?” She had asked. So that’s what they had done the rest of the day. Lazed around, watched movies, walked Duke, ordered in until Samira went back to her apartment that night), they’re thrown back into work the day after.
He’s doing a few days on the day shift, him and Robby switching during the beginning of the July 4th week, before they switch back in time for the weekend.
He hates the Fourth of July. The constant noise of fireworks bringing back memories of a time he doesn’t like to think about. It’s gotten better, what with all the therapy he’s done and is still doing, but there are still moments where his ears start ringing and he thinks he’s back in the heat of a desert watching his friends die. But then Duke’s beside him, a steady presence, a reassurance that no he isn’t, he’s alive (minus a part of his leg), and he’s safe. The worst of it when he was back, when he left the army all those years ago, Devon, his wife was his rock through it all. His anchor. His shore. Guiding him from the dark and into the beacon of safety she had become. But that was then, and after, he didn’t have that. He dealt with it alone until he got Duke. Now though, he always made sure to work every Fourth of July week so his mind could focus on the chaos of the emergency room.
There’s less than an hour of his shift left and he’s found his way to his favourite spot on the roof – behind the railing – and after the day he’s had here, he’s ready to just sleep and forget about this day. Between minor emergency like burns, cuts needing stitches, alcohol poisoning to bigger ones – a multi vehicle accident which had a family of four go to a family of two (orphaned young kids who haven’t even reached over the age of six, Jesus) to another teenager losing their life to the ongoing Opioid epidemic, well, Jack’s just fucking tired.
He knows why he does this for a living, but days like these hit a bit harder.
Behind him the roof door opens and he already knows who it is before they speak. It’s almost hand off time so.
“Not at the edge this time, huh?” Robby comes up beside him and leans on the railing with him.
Jack huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head, looking over at Robby who has a teasing, but worrying look in his eyes. “Not today, brother.”
Robby nods still searching his face and he must have found what he was looking for because he nods and looks back out towards the city.
“Dana filled me in what happened. Rough one, huh?” Robby asks him.
Jack lets out a sigh. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to go home and sleep and try to ease my mind off for a bit.”
Robby clasps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.
“Well you can-”
Robby gets interrupted by the sound of the roof door creaking open and both being confused look behind them and Jack knows. Even before she steps out. Sixth sense.
“Oh,” Samira says, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Sorry. I – I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation. I was just looking for Ja- Dr. Abbot.”
Jack looks her over. She’s holding a bag and two drinks from the diner they both frequent down the street from the hospital and –
Wait a minute.
He squints.
She’s wearing his hoodie.
Out in plain sight.
In public.
Samira Mohan is wearing his old faded Nikes hoodie.
And he knows it’s his because he had given it to her the night of the gala when she had stayed over. The swoosh logo is faded and some of it has peeled off. And they don’t make this anymore. It’s from the fucking nineties.
But she’s out here wearing it. In front of him. In front of everyone. Three sizes too big but she looks good, she looks cozy. Jack wants to wrap his arms around her and tuck her close to his chest and never let go.
He feels Robby subtlety elbow him to get him to stop staring and Jack snaps out of it. Samira is awkwardly standing at the roof door still until Jack gives her a reassuring smile and she walks over.
“I thought I’d deliver you some late dinner before I start my shift because I know you probably didn’t eat during your shift,” she tells Jack, before looking to Robby with an apologetic look. She hands him the bag and a drink. “You’re favourite tea.” He takes it gratefully from her.
“Thank you, Dr. Mohan. This is why you’re my favourite resident,” Jack teases and Samira finally cracks a smile.
“Tea’s still a bit hot,” she gives another nervous glance over at Robby. “Sorry, I didn’t get you anything, Robby.”
Robby just chuckles and shakes his head.
“Don’t worry, I’m all good,” he assures her and she gives him a nod, seeming satisfied.
“Okay. I’ll leave you two be. I like being early and making the rounds. I’ll see you down there, Dr. Robby,” she says to him and then she looks back at Jack and gives him a smile. “Get some sleep, Jack.” Then she turns around to walk back to the roof door but Jack can’t help himself. Knows Robby is watching the way they interact with all too knowing eyes. Jack calls out to her.
“Mohan! Nice hoodie. Vintage?”
She stops. Turns around and gives him a devastating smile with eyes full of mischief.
“Yeah, it is. Little worn and frayed, but does the job right. Keeps me warm and safe,” she pauses, gives him a smirk before – “Just like the guy who gave it to me.” With that she turns around and walks through the door like she just didn’t shake Jack’s world up.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Robby mutters. He turns to face Jack, arms crossed, glaring at him. “You got something to tell me?”
Now Jack is sure he’s the one who looks like a deer caught in headlights.
“Uh, that she’s wearing my hoodie?” Jack asks and Robby continues glaring at him. Jack swallows nervously.
“She’s wearing my hoodie,” he answers finally.
Robby’s still glaring. “I know she is Jack. I’ve seen you wear it. Multiple times. On days where we hang out. I want to know why she is.”
“Nothing happened,” Jack assures him. “She stayed the night in my guest room and I gave her some clothes to sleep in. Turns out there was one piece of clothing I didn’t get back,” he chuckles nervously because Robby is still glaring at him.
It’s tense for a few more moments before Robby closes his eyes and exhales out his nose. He opens them and gives Jack another look.
“We will talk about this. Not now, but soon,” Robby warns him.
Jack understands okay? Robby and him have a long history of friendship, of brotherhood. Even if he doesn’t want it, he knows the conversation is going to happen sooner rather than later. Especially after that display of whatever it is was between him and Samira.
So, Jack agrees and Robby’s content with his answer.
“Okay. Good. Now go home,” Robby commands him.
Jack mocks salute him with his bag of food in his hand and Robby just shakes his head as they both make their way off the roof.
Later, when he’s home and resting, police scanner on (just in case) he gets a text from Samira.
[SAMIRA]; sorry for interrupting your conversation w/ robby just wanted to check in on u
He smiles.
[JACK]; All good, Mohan. Thank you again. See you in the morning. Have a good shift.
[SAMIRA]; sweet dreams jack.
He feels like a dumb fifteen-year-old with his first big crush and he groans. He’s so screwed.
Everything goes to shit when he’s working the night of Fourth of July because of fucking course it does.
The night is already hectic. It’s the night of pure idiocy and chaos combined. With stupid injuries and stupid choices that cause death or serious life lasting injuries. This is why he hates this stupid damn holiday.
Years ago, someone had asked him how he could hate Independence Day if he’s a veteran, a hero.
(“Not much of a hero when you’re being forced to kill innocent people,” he had told them and the shock and disgust on the person’s face was worth the pain from Devon elbowing him.)
So yeah, he hates this day.
So, when a firecracker goes off in the middle of their emergency room, from some dumb college kids who accompanied their friend who burned himself, he kind of loses it.
Badly.
He doesn’t remember much. All he remembers is that he felt like he was back in a warzone, trying to protect his fellow soldiers, a bomb going off, yelling, ringing in his ears, cries, more cries, more cries, more cries.
He briefly hears a familiar voice trying to coax him out his spiralling, but then he feels arms restraining him and he remembers swinging at someone, his fist connecting with a face and then a prick of something on his arm and then it was lights out.
When Jack comes to, he’s confused about his surroundings for a moment. His eyes adjusting to the light above him and then it all comes rushing back to him.
Fuck.
He feels embarrassed.
He thought he was getting better. He’s been in therapy for years. He has Duke. A firecracker shouldn’t have set him off, but it somehow did and the whole department saw it.
Christ. Samira saw it.
She’s been doing a night’s rotation all week and when the firecracker had gone off she had been standing across from him, making her way over to him when shit hit the fan.
Fuck he’s a mess and she saw how messy and broken he still is.
How humiliating.
Maybe it’s because he’s spiralling that he doesn’t realize there’s someone in the room with him until –
“Jack.”
No.
Anyone, but her, he thinks.
“Jack. Hey,” Samira says again, quietly.
Jack sits up and turns his head to face her. She’s giving him a look that’s mixed with relief and concern.
“Christ, Jack. Are you okay?” she asks him. She reaches out like she wants to take his hand but thinks better of it and keep it’s folded in her lap. She’s sitting on a chair beside his bed. She’s changed out of her scrubs and in her street clothes. He thinks he might have been out of it for a couple hours because it was nearing the end of their shift, Robby had just gotten in, so she must have stuck around for him.
God knows why, he thinks bitterly.
“Jack. Seriously, are you alright?” Samira asks him again, now with just concern on her face.
“I’m fine, Dr. Mohan,” he snaps at her and she recoils back, hurt.
“I just – I – I was worried about you, Jack. I wanted to stay and keep you comp-”
He interrupts her.
“As you can see Dr. Mohan. I’m fine. You don’t need to babysit me. Go home.”
Despite the hurt that’s clearly on her face, she tries again.
“Jack, I’m not going anywhere I’m taking you home.”
Jack’s tired, frustrated, embarrassed. Comes to the conclusion that whatever this thing he’s feeling for Samira can never been anything more. He’s a broken man who doesn’t need to bring someone like her down. He just needs to get her to leave.
“Samira!” he snaps. He hears the door to the room opening, someone entering, but ignores it continuing. “I don’t need you at all or ever. Leave me alone. Go home.”
She looks like she’s been slapped, the hurt more prominent on her face now, her eyes watering, but she blinks back the tears and stands, passing Robby who was the one who entered, and leaves the room, slamming the door on her way out.
Jack feels like the biggest asshole.
“Before I rip into you, are you okay?” Robby asks calmly.
Jack sighs feeling every bit of his age right now. “Not really.”
He sees Robby close his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale before opening them again and dropping his hand.
“You are a fucking idiot for doing that to her, brother,” Robby tells him with a low, angry voice. “She was the one who took care of you when you had your PTSD episode. She stayed beside your bed for three hours while you were out from the sedative we gave you, not moving from your side. Worried sick, not even eating the breakfast that was brought for her. And that is how you thank her? How you treat her?”
Robby is fuming and Jack knows he deserves the anger coming his way. But he had to. He had to make Samira realize he wasn’t worth all this trouble. She doesn’t need someone like him who still has too many broken parts and not enough fixed ones.
“Remember earlier this week when we said we were going to have a talk about this?” Robby says, pointing to Jack and then behind him. He makes his way over to the vacant chair and sits down, crossing his arms. “Well we’re having it now.”
Jack groans and leans his head back.
“How about later?” he asks, looking back at Robby who’s glaring at him. Robby shakes his head.
“Nope. We’re talking now. What the hell is going on between you two?”
Jack sighs, turning his head away, blinking away the moisture that’s building up in his eyes, before looking back at Robby.
“Nothing.”
Robby raises an eyebrow, still glaring.
“Nothing?” he asks. Jack nods. Robby lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Nothing my ass. I’ve been watching you. The both of you, this past year. You guys already gravitated towards each other whenever you were on the same shift, but something changed. It was like you two become mirrors of each other. You changed. She even changed.”
Jack gives Robby his own look of disbelief and Robby rolls his eyes at him.
“Yes, you changed. You’re still a cynical asshole with the occasional suicidal tendencies. But it’s become less frequent. Almost to no tendencies. And the cynicism has lowered as well. It’s like you found a reason to live, Jack.”
He did. Jack did. He closes his eyes, willing his tears back. He feels Robby squeeze his arm, resting it there.
“Jack,” he says quietly. “I’ve seen you through the worst. Especially when you lost Devon. I know you, okay? I know you. Despite my own reservations and hypocrisy, I know how good this friendship or whatever you and Samira have going on has been for you. You’ve lit up.”
Jack squeeze his eyes close tighter. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“And,” Robby continues. “I’ve seen Samira become the resident I know she is. Like you’ve said, she’s the smartest one here, but there’s something different this year. She’s more confident, faster, and happier. She’s finally socializing, she’s making friends, and Jack, it’s because of your influence. You’ve both become this light in each other’s darkness. I see it in the way you look at each other.”
Jack opens his eyes and lets out a shaky breath before looking at Robby with what he knows is red rimmed eyes, and Robby’s looking back at him with a sad smile on his face.
“How do we look at each other?” he asks Robby.
Jack knows the answer even before Robby says it. He’s known it for a long time now.
“Like there won’t be a day that goes by where you won’t love each other,” Robby says. “It’s kind of terrifying, but beautiful.”
Jack lets out a shaky laugh wiping away the lone tear from the corner of his eyes. “What?”
Robby sighs.
“You know I see Samira like she’s my eldest daughter. That’s why it’s terrifying,” Robby admits.
Jack gives him a small smile, before frowning again and looking away. His heart is beating fast. He’s never admitted it out loud before.
Braving himself, he looks back at Robby who’s watching him carefully.
“I do,” Jack says, quietly. He feels the thumping of his heart. “I love her.”
Robby smiles.
“I know.” He reaches out and gives Jack another squeeze on the arm. “Fix things with her.”
Easier said than done.
Jack tries to fix it. He does. But Samira turns cold.
She doesn’t talk to him unless it’s necessary when he’s her attending.
She doesn’t answer any of Jack’s texts or phone calls.
She doesn’t even touch any of the food Jack brings her.
She doesn’t come over and she doesn’t joke around with him. She doesn’t even smile at him.
She’s so close to him, but Jack can never seem to be able to get a hold of her.
It’s maddening.
Dana and Robby have been hounding him for weeks since the incident during Fourth of July to fix things and he tells them he is, but Samira is steadfast in ignoring him and pretending he doesn’t exist to her outside of work.
“Try harder,” Dana had told him.
“I am!” Jack had exclaimed. “It’s like I’m nothing to her now!”
“It’s because you were an asshole. Try harder,” she glared.
“Well do you have any ideas?” He remembers asking her.
She had scoffed at him and had shaken her head and walked away muttering, “Men. So clueless!”
Since that conversation with Dana, it was going on almost a month of the silent treatment from Samira, when something happens. He’s doing a rotation on days with him and Robby both as the attending, when he hears the cries of a teenage girl who had come in with her father.
Alarmed, he looks over to see the distraught girl no older than fifteen, drop to the floor in grief, with Samira standing over her, frozen, and Robby standing behind her, looking concerned and upset.
Sensing something wrong, he quickly makes his over to Robby and Samira.
He makes eye contact with Robby and Robby shakes his head.
Shit.
The girl and her father had come to their emergency department, the dad explaining something was wrong but couldn’t figure out what. They had gone to another hospital’s ER, but they wouldn’t take him seriously. Just told him it was a regular migraine and gave him meds and sent him on his way. But the pain had persisted, the daughter had told them, while looking at her dad worryingly.
The case had hit too close to home for Samira, but she had told Robby she was fine, ignoring Jack when he had asked her if she was okay.
“Brain aneurysm. Ruptured. We didn’t catch it in time,” Robby whispers, to him, looking distraught.
“Fuck,” Jack says and he looks at Samira and he knows. He knows where her mind is.
“Dr. Mohan,” he says, quietly. He gently puts a hand on her shoulder. “Samira.”
She’s not responding and he’s getting more worried. He opens his mouth to try again but he’s interrupted by an apologetic Santos who’s also giving Samira worrying looks.
“Dr. Abbot, I’m sorry. I need your help on this case,” she says.
“Go,” Robby tells him gently. “I’ll handle this.”
Jack frowns looking at a still frozen Samira and back at Robby who gives him a nod. Jack lets out a shaky breath before turning to Santos and following her. He’ll check on her after.
After became two hours later when most of day shift was already gone since it was the end of their shift. After Santos’ patient, he got pulled in all different directions because Robby had disappeared with Samira for a while. Jack couldn’t catch a moment to check up on her even when she had come back to the department, still looking haunted.
He’s looking for her after grabbing his things, not seeing her in the locker room, when he catches sight of Dana.
“Dana, did you see Mohan?” he asks her.
Dana shakes her head, a worried look on her face. “No. I think she already left.”
“Shit,” he swears. He’s pulling out his phone to call her when Jesse, one of the nurses interrupts him.
“I saw her walking out in the pouring rain heading towards the park,” Jesse tells him, looking worried.
Now Jack is even more alarmed.
“Fuck, okay. Thanks Jesse,” he tells him and he makes a break for it, hoping to catch up with her.
The weather is awful. It’s a thunderstorm on a summer night, the kind that should be enjoyed in bed, indoors, where it’s dry. But here he is, already drenched from being out in the rain for two minutes tops, but he sees a familiar silhouette sitting on the park bench, the lightning and the park lights being the only thing that’s giving a source of light to see that it’s Samira.
“Samira!” he calls out. He jogs over to her and she’s hunched over, crying and his heart breaks.
“Samira,” he says again, this time softly. Thunder booms overhead and she jumps, startled. She looks up and there’s tears streaking down her face, eyes red. When she registers it’s Jack who’s standing in front of her, she stands, wiping her tears off her face, blinking angrily at him, through the rain falling.
She's wearing his hoodie again.
“Go away,” she snaps at him.
“No.”
She glares at him.
He stands there, blinking against the rain, drops his bag and crosses his arms. “No.”
“Go away!” This time she yells.
He stands firm.
“No.”
She lets out a screech of frustration and attempts to push him, to get him out of her way. She keeps pushing and pushing, but he doesn’t budge, until finally she gives up and falls into him crying, and he catches her and holds her close. She fists the back of his shirt and holds him just as tight as she continues to cry, her tears mixing with the rain.
“Sweetheart,” he says, quietly. “Are you okay?” Samira cries harder and he hugs her to himself tighter.
They’re both soaked at this point, but Jack doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else. After a couple of minutes, her crying subsides and she holds on for another minute before letting go and pushing him away from her.
The abruptness and shock of it makes him stumble back a bit, but he catches himself. She’s glaring at him angrily, blinking through the rain.
“No,” she starts. “You,” she pokes at his chest. “Don’t get to do that, you asshole.”
Jack stands their quietly, taking it. She continues.
“Fourth of July,” she reminds him. “What did you tell me after I was trying to be there for you. Asking if you’re okay because I was worried sick. What did you say?”
Jack continues being quiet, letting her get out all her frustrations.
“You told me that you don’t me at all or ever,” she spits out angrily. “So, what makes you think I-,” her voice breaks, before she composes herself. “I need you?!”
They’re both quiet now. The only sound between them being the rain and the rumbling of thunder.
“Samira,” he begins. “I’m sorry.”
Her face crumples and she’s back in his arms, crying again, this time both of them holding onto each other tightly. He whispers a mantra of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, to her rain soaked hair and gives her a firm kiss in the same spot.
“All I wanted in that moment when that girl found out her father died was your comfort,” she says into his chest. “I wanted to be in your arms. I wanted to go over everything I did to see if I missed something. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted your comfort. So I wore your hoodie again to feel it.”
She pauses before looking up at him with heartbreaking eyes.
“All I wanted was you.”
Thunder cracks loudly in the sky and Jack Abbot is in love with Samira Mohan.
He doesn’t know which one of them moved first, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because they meet each other in the middle and then – then, they’re kissing.
Something Jack has only ever seen in the few dreams he gets in between all the nightmares. But this – this is reality and it’s the best thing that could ever happen to him. The feel of her curls grasped strongly in his hand, while the other one gently cradles her face. She’s holding him just as tightly, fingers grasping the back of his neck tightly, the other hand fisted in the collar of his shirt.
This isn’t a dream. This is real.
He can’t help himself and he groans into the kiss, making her gasp and she presses her fingers even more tightly into his neck (it’s going to leave marks but he doesn’t care) and he takes that opportunity to deepen the kiss.
The rain on his skin is cold, but right now in this moment, his whole body feels like it’s on fire. It feels like a cliché, but he doesn’t care – he feels like he’s alive again.
Everything about this – everything about her – is intoxicating. The way she meets his tongue with hers, the moan she lets out when he tugs on her bottom lip with his teeth before kissing her again, softly, tenderly, like he has all the time in the world.
It’s all so intoxicating and Jack feels like he’ll die of hunger if he never gets to have this again.
Slowly, they part but not very far, their lips still touching each other’s as they breathe heavily together. He’s moved his hands to gently cradle her face, thumb brushing against her wet cheek.
“Samira,” he whispers against her lips, before slightly tipping her head back and making eye contact with her. She blinks through the rain falling on her face, but she meets his piercing gaze, vulnerability shining in them.
His thumb continues brushing her wet cheek.
“Samira,” he says again, quietly. They’re drenched, the raining still coming down hard, thunder still rumbling in the sky. Samira keeps her eyes on his. “Samira Mohan. I have admired you since the day you walked through the ER doors. Your intelligence, your kindness, your hard work as you treat people, absorbing every criticism – glowing when I make you do some batch shit insane procedure,” he smiles at her while she laughs. He continues. “Then I got to know you down to your core,” he hears her breath hitch. “You let this stupid guy, you let me in, and showed me who you are.” He closes his eyes briefly before opening them and looking her right in the eyes again. “And do you know what that did to me? It brought me to fucking life.”
She lets out a soft gasp. “Oh.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, oh. Last year, here in this same spot I let you in. I let you in that night and you nestled your way inside me, marked your place in my heart, and made a home that I thought I would never have again.”
“Jack,” she whispers and Jack shakes his head.
“No, listen to me Samira Mohan. I am so in fucking love with you,” his voice cracks with emotion, but he continues. “I am so in love with you that every smile, every laugh I get from you,” he takes her hand and places it over his heart, holding it there. “Nestles itself right in here and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.”
The rain comes down harder, they’re blinking between the wet drops landing on their face, their eyes, but the air between them is charged.
“I love you,” he says softly, still holding her hand to his heart, his other hand still gently holding her rain soaked face. “And I will continue to love you when they bury me in the dirt, six feet under, and I will continue to love you in every lifetime after.”
It’s quiet for a moment the confession Jack made washing over them both. Samira is watching him, searching his eyes, before a devastating smile that has that spark he sees in them sometimes when she’s looking at him. This time she moves her hands to hold his face.
“Jack Abbot, you complete and utter idiot. Did you think I didn’t love you back?” she asks, shaking her head. “Because I do. I’m in love with you. Somehow you wormed your way into my lonely life and made it come alive.” She takes a shaky breath before continue. “You’re burrowed so deep in my heart that if they crack my chest open, they’ll see your name written on there.”
And well, what else can Jack do with that information, but kiss her again?
They go back to his.
In his bathroom, they take off their rain soaked clothes and get in the warm shower together. He kisses her in there. He kisses her when they’re dry and making their way to his bed. He kisses her on his bed, kisses her neck, savouring each noise she makes. He kisses down her body, her breasts, her stomach, making his way down to where he really wants to be.
She’s watching him with a dark gaze and he smirks up at her before he devours her, finally getting a taste of her. She throws her head back in pleasure, getting both hands in his curls, holding him down tightly.
Jack thinks this is the best thing he’s ever eaten.
After, when he’s had his taste of her, when he’s made his way inside of her, taking more pleasure from each other, they’re lying in his bed boneless, a comfortable silence between them. She’s resting her head on his chest and he’s carding his heads through her curls.
He didn’t think he’d ever get this type of happiness again, but here he is. Here she is. Then he remembers something he had tucked away and he slowly sits up apologizing to Samira, who sits up herself, wrapped in his sheets, giving him a questioning look. He smiles and holds up a finger.
“One sec,” he says and he turns towards his nightstand, leaning down to open the bottom drawer. He finds a box he hasn’t touched in ten years and takes it out, closing the drawer. Turning back towards her, she’s still looking at him, but this time with a raised eyebrow when her eyes see the old box.
“What is it?” she asks, curious, leaning over to look at it.
He doesn’t know if she’ll accept it, maybe it’s too soon, but he wants her to know how serious he is about this.
He opens the box and holds it out to her and she peers inside and looks up in shock and surprise.
Jack gives her a nervous smile.
“Your dog tags?” she asks in disbelief.
“I want you to have it,” he tells her, lifting it out of the box and holding it out to her. She’s still looking at him in shock, her mouth open. “You don’t have to wear it, but I just wanted you to know how serious I am about this, Samira.”
She looks at the dog tags and back at him before gently taking them from him. She brushes her thumb over where his name is, studying it.
(He remembers when Devon had taken them off and had put them in that box. It was during her last days. Jack didn’t want them back, how could he? It belonged to her and that’s what he tried to tell her but Devon was Devon and she had firmly placed the box in his hands. “Jack,” she had said. “Give it to the next person you fall in love with you.” Jack had scoffed. “Yeah, right, like that’ll happen.” Devon had just shaken her head and gave him a weak laugh. She was still so beautiful even with the cancer, eating her away, taking her away from him. “No, Jack. You can’t be lonely for the rest of your life. I know you. Fall in love again. Give it to your last love. Because I know you will fall in love again and they’ll be the best thing to ever happen to you.”)
With Samira sitting there in his bed, his dog tags in her hands, he can’t help but think Devon was right. She was always right.
Samira is still holding the dog tags like they’re something precious before she looks back up at him with teary eyes.
“Are you sure?” she asks because she knows the weight of this, what it means to him. He’s told her. He’s told her everything.
“Yes. I want you to have it. To keep it or to wear it,” he says, firmly holding her gaze to see how true it is. She gives him a watery smile and holds it out to him.
“Put it on me?” she asks. He smiles and takes it from her.
“Happily.”
She drops her head slightly so he can put it over her head, moving her hair aside and it settles around her neck, the tags nestled between her naked breasts. She looks up at him and grins.
He pulls her into him and kisses her.
It feels like a promise.