Work Text:
Samira Mohan has never been someone that people said they were proud of. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how far she bent herself, nothing ever seemed like enough. Especially to her mother, who treated her like a statue in her glass menagerie. You could look from a distance, but don’t touch or things could get messy.
She looked the part, she was a doctor for fucks sake. How much of her life had she spent studying to get there? She would be repaying her student loans until her dying breath, just for her mother to say she wished she would have been a lawyer instead.
Work was no different. Despite her top patient satisfaction scores, Robby was never happy with her. There was always something she could improve. Her speed, her case numbers, her teaching.
Honestly, there were days she just wanted to give up. Book a one-way flight ticket to some random destination and never return.
Until she met him.
It scared her how much he affected her in so short a time. How she could easily just “click” with someone.
Jack Abbot floated into her orbit just to make her realize she was her own sun.
He was something she couldn’t really put into words. He was cocky but humble. He was rough but soft. He was everything and nothing all at once. He was a true mystery, and she wanted to crack the case.
He treated her like she was something to be cherished. Like every word that came out of her mouth was the holy grail. Nothing she did was ever wrong to him. Even if she was actually wrong. If she missed a diagnosis, he was the first one to be supportive and reassure her.
“No one could have predicted that, Mohan.” His voice low but sure, giving notice to anyone who challenged him that they would regret it. She had seen his hazel eyes cut to Robbys’ harshly.
He was protective of her. That was the most surreal part. She didn’t know how to handle that feeling, and the emotions that came with it.
She always felt like she was a burden after her father passed. Another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, just another lifeless object that existed to be shown off by her mother to her friends.
Samira Mohan knew she was good looking. With her smooth brown skin that glistened in the sun, her black curly hair that could turn heads when she let it down. The only time she knew for a fact that her mother was proud of her, was when she won homecoming queen in high school. Her “pretty little doll” when it was time to parade around town. But when Samira was accepted into medical school, crickets. As if the only thing she could offer was her face. It made her feel shallow, empty even.
There were times she thought that Jack could see that in her, the way his eyes would soften as they looked in her direction. Like he was reading a novel written by her face, but no one else could see the words.
Or maybe they just didn’t care to.
She tried not to let it bother her, but it did. She wanted nothing more to make friends, to do brunch with the girls. But she isolated herself so long in the name of her education and career, it felt like she missed out on that companionship.
His rough hand placed on her shoulder quietly, as light as a feather. As he came up behind her, pulling her out of her stormy thoughts. The ever present buzz of the Pitt surrounding them.
“Are you okay, Samira?” His voice gruff, but a gentle caress at once. “I would say you look bad, but I don’t think that is possible.”
She turned in his direction, his hand still holding her shoulder. “I’m fine, Jack.”
“Your eyes say otherwise, Mohan.” He paused, his gaze holding hers. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
She stilled, taking a deep breath. “I promise. Just having a little self pity party.”
“Can I be invited?” He smiled softly, “I want to be at any party you’re at.”
She playfully smacked his arm, “You’re goofy, Abbot.”
His eyes shined mischievously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you still want to come over after shift?”
She nodded imperceptibly. They had eyes on them, they always did, especially in the ER.
They’ve had this secret between them for months at the point. Samira wouldn’t call it “friends with benefits” because it felt like a lot more, especially to her. But they never put a label on it. No one knew. She wanted to keep it that way, not because she was ashamed. But because it was special, unsullied by unwanted attention.
“I’ll text you.” She said quietly, he acknowledged with a nod and turned to head in the opposite direction. Her eyes scanned the ER to see if anyone had took notice of their interaction. Mel’s eyes met hers, but she smiled shyly. Samira could feel herself smile too. If she trusted anyone not to say anything, it would be Mel.
Her shift began to drag after that. All her cases were thoughtless, quick simple fixes. Time began to move at a snail’s pace. She sighed to herself, maybe she could go grab a snack in the break room.
She wondered over slowly, just trying to kill some more time. As she turned the corner, she could see Jack standing in the break room. He was speaking to a pizza delivery driver, his wallet opened to pay him, she assumed.
That’s when she saw it.
Like a ray of light that blinded her, in his wallet, there was a printed wallet sized photo of her. Her hair was down, she was smiling at him glass of wine in hand. She remembered the day it was taken, their third date at an Italian place downtown.
It made her heart soar, he was proud of her.
His eyes looked up as she entered the now empty break room, the pizza delivery driver passing her on the way in. Jack’s wallet still lay open in his palm. The fluorescent lighting making his salt and pepper hair shimmer.
“Is that…” she paused, lowering her voice to a whisper, “a picture of me, in your wallet?”
She could see the blush rising on his cheeks, his eyes cast downward. He looked bashful, she never thought that was possible.
“I can take it out if you don’t like it.” He paused, his voice dropping, “it just gives me something to make it through the darkness some days.”
Samira shook her head vehemently, dark tendrils of hair falling loose. “No, I love it. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” She approached him quickly, wrapping her arms around his waist. Laying her head against his back, hugging him from behind.
“You’ve haven’t seen sweet yet, Mohan.” His voice soft, his hands lying upon hers on his abdomen.
“Show me then.” She challenged.
“In the break room? Aren’t you afraid someone will come in?” His voice was rough, lower than she had heard.
“I don’t care.” She moved her lips against his neck laying gentle kisses up the side. “Fuck em.”