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Amma tries this every few months.

She thinks she's being sneaky with each approach, but Samira always knows, because not only do daughters have a sixth sense for this sort of thing, but her Amma also happens to be incredibly unsubtle.

The call will start out normal enough; she'll ask how work was, and — if she's found the will to practice restraint that day— she'll ask for details about whatever specifics Samira has decided to divulge before asking if she's met any nice boys since they last spoke.

Not once has the answer been yes.

Since finding a boyfriend of her own and joining her carrom group, she's taken a liking to sending Samira potential matches. Who needs apps when you can have your Amma and other scheming aunties send you eligible nephews and a friend of a friend of a friend's son from hundreds of miles away?

There is a respect for Samira's career, but the desire for her to find a husband still prevails over all else. A nice, suitable boy from a nice, suitable family. Someone to show off and brag about at family events. Preferably a doctor as well, but any prestigious field will do, really.

It began near the end of Samira's residency. Once it was established that she'd be staying in Pittsburgh, Amma felt a sudden desperation to see her paired off while there was still some amount of influence. She'll admit she'd been caught in a somewhat tender state that first time and allowed Amma to coax her into agreeing to the meeting.

He'd been nice enough, but Samira quickly learned she had very little patience for anyone who couldn't ask her a question in return. Leading an hour long interrogation after a twelve hour shift was not high on her list of stimulating extracurricular activities.

There have been about thirty or so date proposals and she's sick of them by date six, finding most of the men to be either rudely dismissive of her career goals or completely dull in ways she hadn't fathomed possible.

Three blissful months have passed since the last attempt, and since then Samira has brought down the hammer on Amma's interference with her romantic life. No more men are being sent to her until she specifically asks for it, and the chances of that are slim to none.

They have rules now, strictly established after their fourth of July blow out. After a few months of minimal contact and lingering resentment, Samira and Amma came to the same conclusion that they were all each other had left of their former life. No matter how fractured their family might be, it was important for them to preserve what was left. Even if that was hard to remember sometimes.

The rule is that Amma must respect Samira's boundaries:

• only interrupt work hours if there's an emergency

• no more treating her like a child

• stop meddling in her romantic life

If she could observe those rules, Samira would make the effort to take time off for visits and try to attend more family events. Hell, she'd even start looking for dates on her own if Amma could stick to the rules long enough.

Samira is elbow deep in a man's abdomen when she gets the call.

A nurse to her right slips the phone from her pocket with deft hands as Samira finishes tying off a bleeder.

"Uh, someone named Ah-ma is calling?" she relays with a harsh American pronunciation.

Samira stiffens as she immediately steps back to doff her gear, her wide eyes on the attending as she speaks. "My mom, she only calls during work if it's an emergency."

Dr. Johnston nods, voice muffled through her mask.

"We have plenty of help here, Dr. Mohan. Take care of what you need to."

Samira's hands are scrubbed and she's through the break room door in record time as she clicks accept on the call, her voice breathless as she immediately slips into her mother tongue.

"Amma, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"Kannu, you will never guess who I saw at the market today!"

"I don't — " She blinks hard as she registers the sunny tone. "Is this an emergency?"

Her Amma continues, blatantly ignoring the question. "I've set up a date for you!"

"A date."

Samira can hear the pleased smile in her voice as she speaks. "Yes! Oh, Samira, it's going to be fantastic you'll never guess —"

"I told you only to call during work hours if there is an emergency." Samira feels the anger begin to boil as she paces the break room, her hand flexing at her side as she tries to stifle the bite creeping into her voice. "What did we agree an emergency entailed?"

Amma tisks, and the dismissal only aids in draining her patience quicker.

"Amma." Samira scolds.

A puff of air crackles the audio as Amma huffs into the receiver. "Blood, hospital, or police."

She knows her face is set in a rotten scowl when she watches one of their new med students — innocently in search of a vending machine — immediately backpedal from the room after glimpsing her expression, their back stiff with fear.

"I'm going to hang up, and if it's still an emergency to you in four hours, you can call me back. Either way we will be having a long discussion about your interpretation of an emergency and how loose you seem to think these rules are."

"Samira, if you'd just listen!"

"We talked about this. We've gone over it again and again and still you have no respect for me or my time."

"Of course I do —"

"I don't know how many times we have to do this before I can't anymore —"

"It was Dhara Parin!" Amma finally shouts.

Samira's pacing halts.

"Parin?"

"She was in the produce section as I was looking for some — Well, it doesn't matter what I was looking for. We stopped and chatted for a bit; I told her about the cruise and heard about the trip they're about to take through the Mediterranean when she mentioned that Jai is living in Pittsburgh as well."

Samira's palms have rapidly grown clammy.

"And he's very single!"

"Amma, I don't —" Samira stammers, her heart rate picking up as she realizes where this is going.

"Well, Dhara called him right then and he agreed to see you this weekend!" she avidly continues. "And sounded very excited about it too!"

Samira's mouth hangs agape as she searches for a reply. Two laughing nurses passing by jolt her into action and she rushes over to close the door, sectioning her off from prying eyes and ears. She smooths down the top of her hair as she paces again.

"He — He sounded excited?" Samira's sure her voice shakes at the question. "To see me?"

"Of course he did, why wouldn't he? I'm sure he's eager to catch up; it's been so long since the two of you have seen each other. He's a very accomplished young man now, much like yourself. I can't imagine this not being a wonderful reconnecting," she gushes. " I know you need to get back to work, but I'll send you the details."

Samira merely nods, her eyes wide and mouth parted in silent awe as her Amma rambles on.

"Oh, Samira, I knew I was meant to be at the market today. This all feels very auspicious! Have a good rest of your shift kannu, I'll talk to you soon!"

The line drops with a descending jingle and Samira is left holding the silent phone to her ear as she attempts to processes what just happened.  

"I thought you'd successfully shut down the set-ups." Cassie's expression pinches in sympathy as she reaches into their shared basket for another fry.

Samira stares at the greasy spot it unveils on the checkered wax paper.

"I did."

She watches Cassie drop her brows into a confused bunch, chewing as she tries to discern the carefully blank look she's put on.

"Doesn't sound like you did," she prompts drily.

"It's —" Samira shrugs in an attempt to seem nonchalant. "It's fine this time."

"Oh?"

"Yep."

Samira hates when she does this. McKay made a real effort to reach out after Samira left PTMC, offering her at least one life line in Pittsburgh while she attempts to navigate this next stage of her life. But Cassie, for all the wisdom and patience she has, is also a mom, and as such, she has supernatural ways of extracting information from her.

"Must be some guy, then. You're not usually this willing to yield."

The cheap vinyl of the booth squeaks when she perks up, back straightening in defiance as she pushes back. "No one said anything about yielding."

"Okay." Cassie smirks, lifting another fry to her mouth. "You're not usually this… obliging."

Samira lets out a groan as she plays with the torn paper of her straw's cover, her thumb and pointer finger fiddling with the end until it catches and begins rolling into a tight scroll.

"It's because he's an— uh — well. I guess… we used to go to school together."

"You guess?"

Samira's head tips to the side with an annoyed frown as she glares at Cassie's sly grin.

"I might have had a crush on him."

Jai Parin, the boy she'd held a secret flame for all through grade school. The sweet, wonderful boy that every girl in her class had a crush on, was — if her Amma was to be believed — excited to go on a date with her.

"Shut up." Cassie's eyes widen. "Dr. Mohan has a crush."

"Had," she clarifies with a raised palm.

"Doesn't look past tense from where I'm sitting; you're blushing!" She reaches out like she's going to pinch Samira's cheek but drops it with a cackle when it's lightly slapped out of the air.

"I don't currently have a crush on him; I haven't seen him in over a decade."

"Yeah, but I know how it is. Sometimes there's a boy you never quite get over. The 'what if' that shows up in the silent moments. Mine was Tanner Humphrey. He'd gather lady bugs in his sweaty palm at recess and cry when they died," Cassie muses with a fondness as she reaches for her burger. "God, he was so sweet."

Samira's lip curls in mild distaste as she takes a sip of her diet coke.

"Gross."

McKay shrugs before taking a bite from her burger and Samira decides to give in.

"I don't know," she exhales, reaching for a fry of her own. "It's just… it feels like it might be a sign."

An arched brow. "When did you start believing in those?"

"I've spent the last ten years of my life dedicated to this." Samira gestures between them, pointing to their respective scrubs; black and minty green, both rumpled after long shifts. "All I've done is study and sleep and eat and work. I don't even want to think about how long it's been since I last had sex — good sex."

McKay nods with a surprised frown and Samira notices how it twitches with restraint, fighting not to turn into a smile.

"I can't believe we're finally breaking into this territory, I've been waiting for this moment." She puts her palms together in mock prayer.

Samira rolls her eyes. "I'm not trying to sleep with him. I'm just making a point."

She shrugs as Cassie pouts.

"You spent the last two years of my residency telling me how I needed to go out more and get a life and I didn't listen. I figured if I just waited until I was done with my fellowship it would all work itself out. And I know it sounds unrealistic and hopeful, but I think this might be it working out." Samira smiles a little at the idea. "All of these other men were never going to be someone I'd want to commit to so soon because they're strangers. But Jai… It's been a long time, but he can't have changed too much. He was always a sweet guy," she muses, not dissimilar to the way she'd just judged Cassie for. "If this is meant to be, and it goes well, then everything is still on track."

Cassie has set her burger down and is leaned back in her seat, arms crossed and lips silently parted as she dutifully listens.

"Jai would be perfect. My mother wants someone from a good family that she knows, I want someone I could be comfortable with, and if he likes me then I don't see why that wouldn't be the perfect outcome."

"Right." Cassie nods.

"I'm right, right?"

"Samira," she starts. "You said it yourself, you haven't seen him in over ten years. Sure, he might be a good guy, but I think you're putting a lot of expectations into a first date."

"I'm a reasonable person, Cassie, I'm just saying that maybe this could be the last date my mom sets me up on. We can be through with all this runaround, and I can finally get her off my back and start living my own life."

"Right," she repeats. "So again, I think you're letting too much ride on this when you haven't even been on the date yet. Maybe pump the breaks a bit, take it slow, keep it casual. If it works out then great! But if not, you should be prepared."

The rational part of her knows Cassie is right; she's been right about so many other things. But the part of her that's hopeful is much louder at the moment, and she'll never admit how much the idea of it makes her stomach flutter.

"You're right," Samira concedes, taking another sip from her drink as she shrugs, a shy gesture. "But maybe."

Cassie sighs and offers Samira a small, kind smile. "Maybe."

They agree to meet at Piatto, an Italian place downtown; it's nothing outlandishly fancy, but nice enough that Samira thinks she could justify buying a new dress. She's been rotating through the same three that she's had since med school, and this seems like a good enough reason to try something fresh. Time to step outside of her comfort zone and into new beginnings.

She finds a sleeveless boat neck dress at a department store, spends almost half an hour rotating between colors before a sales associate tells her the golden yellow complements her skin tone the best.

Her hair has always been a helpless endeavor for her, and for a moment she considers texting Cassie and asking if she should get it done at a salon for the date, but the thought of reading the underlying warning in her response makes her rethink it. Samira cares about Cassie's opinion, but she decides to accept that this is just one of those things she wouldn't understand.

The appointment is booked, the dress purchased, and at 7 pm on Friday, Samira walks into the venue with blown out hair — the ends of which are curled into delicately crafted swoops — and a new dress that catches a discrete metallic shine in the low lighting.

Her makeup is simple: mascara, blush, a deep, berry red lip that she'd painstakingly painted on, and her nails rounded and lacquered in a shiny nude polish that she picked out at the salon. Past dates have only been mascara affairs, but she wants to try with this one, wants the effort to show. She even unearths some of her gold event jewelry from the depths of her closet, finding a simple pendant necklace, some bangles, and a small set of hoops to top off the ensemble.

Samira — for the first time in a long time — feels beautiful.

Desirable.

Chatter from her fellow restaurant attendees blends into a hum the closer she gets to the table, but she thinks that just might be her head playing games. Nervous anticipation trying to drown out any distractions.

Finally, the hostess reaches a stretch of tables lining a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Samira is grateful she chose flats. Otherwise she's certain she would have tripped and rolled her ankle at the sight of the boy she once knew — now a man — occupying a table for two.

Jai was always beautiful. Every girl knew it; he sure as hell knew it. He had soft eyes, a brown so dark you felt like you could melt and slip right into them. As far as appearances go, he hasn't changed all that much. His face is a little longer now, his jaw covered in a short, dark beard that covers his lips, and his hair; wavy curls perfectly coiffed into an effortless swoop. Just like she remembered it.

She can't believe this is really happening.

The nearer they draw the more she starts to feel herself tremble. His posture looks tired as he focuses down at his phone, fingers flying quickly across the keyboard before he reaches up to rub at his beard in frustration. A pit starts to form in her stomach.

What if Amma lied about how excited he was to meet up? What if his Amma was strong arming him into it? If his body language is any indication, he'd rather be anywhere else but here. Maybe this was a mistake.

Just as Samira considers cutting her losses and turning tail, Jai looks up.

It's brief at first, a quick glance as he surveys the area before returning to his screen, then his head shoots back up. Samira holds her breath as she watches his face morph from blank impassivity into surprise, settling quickly into awe. He shoots up from his chair, flipping his phone over and dismissing it to the end of the table as he steps forward.

"Samira Mohan?" His voice still has a boyish lilt to it, and Samira can't help the shy smile that breaks out on her face.

"Jai," she's says breathlessly.

He closes the distance with little hesitation, gathering her into an eager hug that smells like her childhood. Her bangles chink against each other as she raises her hands to settle on his back, allowing herself a brief moment to soak in the familiarity of him. When he pulls back she's met with a charming smile that spikes her heart rate again.

"Wow," he says, holding her hands in each of his palms as he steps back to take her in. "You look incredible."

"Really?" she asks shyly, her voice tinted with disbelief as her stomach twists and turns, trying to settle on how she should feel in this moment.

"You're —" He shakes his head, looking her over slowly before meeting her eyes. "Absolutely stunning."

Samira ducks her head as she smiles. Never in a million years — out of all the girls who yearned and vied for his attention — would she think that she'd be one of the few he called stunning.

She's just not that lucky.

They sit to order, and she tries not to blush when she feels his eyes on her as she asks for the mushroom risotto and a white wine. Her smile is still shy when she hands off the menu, meeting his eyes again as he holds hers with a stupid grin.

"You're a hard person to find," he jokingly accuses.

"How do you mean?"

"When my Amma called I tried looking you up, just out of curiosity. " He holds his hands up in playful surrender. "But all I found was an Instagram page with no profile picture and a bunch of graphics on how to wash your hands during COVID."

"Ah. Yes, well, I wouldn't really consider myself a very big selfie taker." She chuckles nervously, adjusting the hem of her dress so it stays at her knees.

Jai smiles at her. "You should start. You're worth taking pictures of."

Samira's cheeks warm at the blatant flirtation. Men have flirted with her, but they've never been people who hold weight to her. It's usually coming from patients or one of the uninspiring dates her Amma has orchestrated. She's unused to it coming from someone she wants flirting with her, and frankly she was getting to the point where she wasn't sure she'd even recognize it if it should happen.

"I almost didn't recognize you," he adds, voice soft with awe. "You've grown up, Samira."

She keeps her head tilted down, looking up at him through her lashes as she fails to stop herself from kneading her lips in girlish glee. "You haven't changed at all."

The conversation isn't stilted in the way the others were. Knowing him means they can skip a majority of the small talk and move into catching each other up. Samira asks about college and he tells her about Penn State, how he studied Robotics and now engineers moon rovers for a company called Astrobotic in Pittsburgh.

The job sounds like it could keep him here for a fair amount of time, but they have a few locations across the states. Fairly easy to relocate if she wanted to explore an attending position elsewhere. (She ignores the tiny Cassie shaped voice in the back of her head when she thinks that.)

"I don't know if my Amma doesn't understand what I do or if she wishes it were different. She likes to tell people I'm building rockets and then gets mad when I correct her."

Samira laughs into her wine glass, nodding at the kinship she feels with the sentiment as the waitress approaches with a bread basket, an apology already on her lips.

"You'll have to forgive us, the kitchen is a little backed up tonight, but we're working to get your order out as fast as we can." She sets down an offering of balsamic vinegar and oil with crusty bread.

The girl is young, roughly eighteen with some youthful fat still to her cheeks. Jai smiles kindly, assuring her that there's no rush, and Samira feels the flutter start up again. He's not trying to run out yet. This is a good sign.

She's ready to ask more questions, learn about what else he's been up to, but is pleasantly surprised when he turns to her with a set of his own inquiries. They talk about her time at school, her line of research and what a devastating blow the cut in funding had been right at the tail end of her residency at the Pitt.

"PTMC?" Realization dawns on him as he pauses. "So you must have been there for that Pittfest shooting a few years ago?"

Samira jerks her chin, fingering the stem of her wine glass as she answers. "Yeah. It was uh… it was a pretty shitty day," she says with an airy huff, flippant in an attempt at moving them away from the topic.

The worst part of this — dating and divulging details about her life — is that Samira inevitably ends up fielding the same questions about working in the ED.

At best, it's some tactless variation of "what's the weirdest thing someone's lodged in themselves?" She'll give them a fun answer she got from the night shift in an attempt to placate them.

At worst, they ask something along the lines of "what's the worst case you've seen come through the doors?"

And how do you casually answer that question?

I'm so glad you asked! I've seen children in various states of malnutrition and neglect, watched countless domestic violence victims wheeled in with broken bones and still choose to leave with their partner who caused it — refusing any intervention. Or do you want to know about how many skulls I've seen smashed in? What a brain looks like when it's been hit at 90 miles an hour? Should I describe what a necrotic limb smells like? How long the sound a grieving mother makes will ring in your ears before you're finally able to sleep? Do you know what that wailing sounds like? It's animal. A person should not be able to make that sound —

"God, that's…" Samira tenses — just slightly — as she anticipates his question. Waits for him to ask how bad it was.

"You guys saved a lot of people," he settles on with a heavy sigh, and Samira knows she looks shocked when he meets her eyes again. "I bet you did incredible work."

Her head tilts in surprise as she absorbs his response.

"I did," she agrees with a resolute nod, and Jai smiles.

"Of course you did."

They exchange more shy glances, quietly dabbing their bread into the oily mixture and sipping from their drinks before he asks, "What's been your favorite thing about Pittsburgh? Any spots you frequent?"

It's such a basic question, one she should have an easy answer to after five years in the city.

"Oh." She waffles for a moment, trying to pluck an appropriate answer from the depths of her memory, thinking of the last time she explored the city.

"Well, I work a lot. So, the hospital, I guess." She shrugs lightheartedly, tucking a curl behind her ear.

Jai laughs, and an uncomfortable silence sets in as he waits for her to continue. His brow furrows after a minute, offset by the lopsided smile he gives her. "C'mon, that can't be true, there has to be something. A bar, a park, favorite convenience store."

"There's a park across from the Pitt. Sometimes I'd have a drink with some of the staff after a shift." 'Sometimes' is generous. She'd been twice.

Jai's face stagnates in the same confusing meld of emotions as they continue.

"So what about dating? Have you done much since moving here?"

"A recent development," she scoffs. "My Amma has been trying to play matchmaker. Hence —" She motions between them.

"Right," he chuckles, scratching his beard as he shifts in his seat. "But… nothing outside of that? No one you've been interested in? Friends, a neighbor, coworkers?"

Samira's cheeks heat at the question, her mind scrambling to shake off the emotional curve ball he's just pitched.

"Co— um, no. Uh." She laughs nervously as she swipes at the heat creeping up the back of her neck, her jewelry clinking lightly at the movement.

"I've just been busy, ya know? Residency doesn't exactly offer an abundance of free time. And my research took up a lot of my time outside of that."

"And now that you don't have the research?"

Samira feels herself bristle. "It just hasn't been a part of my plan."

"Well, plans change; that's the nature of them."

"Yeah, I was made very aware of that recently." Her tone goes caustic at the memory of her fourth of July panic attack.

"So what, it's all just work and sleep for you? The occasional date to appease your Amma?" He chuckles, trying to alleviate some of the tension.

Samira's delight at his eagerness to question her in return has quickly gone sour. "Not forever. Just until I get to where I want to be in my career. That's the plan."

Jai's expression falls as she speaks, his eyes gone soft with pity. "And when do you get there? When are you allowed to experience your own life?"

She feels her lungs close mid inhale, the breath stolen completely from her. Jai's still watching her with that crestfallen expression, and she can't find the cognitive function to do anything but let her mouth hang open.

Samira has a life. She has dinners with Cassie, very stimulating journal discussions held exclusively over email, and once she agreed to drinks with her cohorts at Presby.

Just as she thinks she has a rebuttal, the waitress returns again, her face pink from exertion and bangs sticking slightly to her forehead. "I'm so sorry folks, that food is just about ready. Can I get you any refills, more bread in the meantime?"

Samira bounces a frantic look between Jai and the girl.

His mouth twitches into a polite smile. "We're okay, thank you —"

"Okay great, I'll be back soon!" she hastily replies before rushing back towards the kitchen.

An uneasy silence settles over the table as Samira looks down at her hands, thumbing the smooth lacquer over her nails as she tries to come up with an answer he'll like.

"Samira," he starts, a heavy sigh escaping him as he leans forward, elbows on the table as he folds his arms. "It's been good to see you and to catch up. I think it's really incredible that you've been able to follow your passions; what you're doing is really fantastic— truly. I just… I don't think this is going to work out the way our Ammas want it to."

Samira finally manages a look back to him and is met with his own downcast eyes.

"The thing is… You haven't changed."

That gets a rise out of her.

"I have."

"I mean you have, you— you've grown to be a very beautiful woman. Really, I wish—" he cuts himself off, rubbing his beard in frustration. " It's just, you as a person, you're exactly how you've been since we were kids."

Her nose crinkles at his comments as she scoffs sharply. "I'm not the same."

"Samira—"

"I'm not, Jai. I've—" She can feel the onset sting of tears. "I've seen so much, experienced so much since then. And none of it has been kind. Every bit of it has changed me in ways I don't think I could ever make you understand because you've never had to deal with anything remotely close to it."

Jai lets her go on, his face twisted in sympathy.

"You've never had to train yourself to stop looking at a person as a living being so you can tear them open to save their life without vomiting into their chest cavity. How could I make any of you —my Amma, the men she throws at me — understand the life I have to live in order for others to have a fighting chance? The sacrifices I have to make?"

She feels a vindictiveness rising in her as she speaks — a rage she can't remember feeling since departing from under Robby's tutelage.

"So tell me, Jai. Please tell me how I could possibly still be the same kid you knew?"

When she remembers where they are, how close they are to the tables around them, she feels shame at her outburst start to bleed in. Jai's eyes glance hastily around as he clears his throat, leaning in again — attempting to shrink the conversation back down.

"I don't want you to think I'm in any way trying to minimize your life, Samira. You're right, I'll never understand what you do, but that's not what I'm trying to say."

"Then what?" Her voice trembles.

"Everything is so serious," he concedes at last. "You've been an adult since you were thirteen. To have lost your Appa the way you did, I can't imagine the shift you experienced. I acknowledge that, but since then you stopped being… fun. You never wanted to hang out with us anymore."

Samira's mouth digs into a severe frown at the memory. The white glove treatment she'd received from the adults had been hard. But the invites that slowly trickled out, watching her friends join together for dances and group dates without her because she was too much of a mood killer? That had hurt most.

"You're still isolating yourself from your community. What kind of life is that?"

A tear finally falls as she meets his pitying gaze.

"I know it would make a lot of people happy for this to work out between us, but I can't pretend it interests me. I don't want to be with someone who I have to force into experiencing life with me." He looks regretful as he admits it. "I don't want to marry my Amma."

And with the insertion of that final dagger, Samira watches helplessly as another piece of her plan slips through her numbing fingers.

 Jai throws an oblique look around, seeing if they've drawn any more attention.

"Maybe it's best we leave this here."

She's humiliated at the way her mouth trembles and turns to face the window in an attempt to obscure it. The sun is still setting, the street lights and buildings beginning to spark to life outside as she watches the vague reflection of Jai shift to reach into his pocket.

"I'm really sorry, Samira. Don't worry about the food, I'll take care of it." She sees him scan the restaurant to find the waitress' kiosk, then shift to stand before pausing. "Let me get you an Uber."

Too quickly she shakes her head. She can't stomach any more kindness from him.

"I —" He sounds like he wants to fight her, but thinks better of it. "Okay."

Jai scoots his chair back and stands, and Samira decides she should at least get to see him one last time before he goes. Give herself a bitter memory of the future she'd imagined walking away from her.

"Get home safe. And good luck with everything, I really mean it. You deserve the best." His eyes have an earnest shine to them when he says it. "You deserve someone who understands you."

Samira swallows heavily as she watches him walk away, following his departure until her chin reaches her shoulder and she lets him go.

For a moment she stares unseeing into the restaurant, letting the haze of movement and clinking dishware drown out her racing thoughts as she absorbs what just transpired.

There was so much about this date that she should have expected. She should have known her inability to remain casual and palatable would rear it's ugly head, and she could have guess he'd be as uninterested in her now as he had been then — especially with Cassie's warnings.

But ultimately, what Samira could have truly never predicted, is turning back to find Jack Abbot's shocked expression staring back at her from the table behind where Jai had been sitting.

Just about any other person sitting there would have been survivable.

She'd have taken Robby over this. At least then she could walk away with an absolute certainty that she'd never have to talk about it to anyone again.

But Abbot is not Robby.

Jack has always been attentive and mindful of Samira, always eager to hear about an interesting case she had that day, equally as happy to hear about her goings on outside of work, despite it being nothing but research. He was the only person there who seemed to take genuine interest in anything about her from the get-go.

And now Jack Abbot is staring back at her, phone to his ear, mouth agape in stunned silence as he watches a new tear run down her cheek after playing witness to what has to be the most embarrassing moment of her life.

She sees his eyes track it, his gaze tensing as he begins speaking into the phone, his voice distant but deep enough that she feels it resonate in the space between them.

Samira ducks her head, swiping at the tear and sniffling as she ducks to face the window again.

"Shit," she hisses through a shaky exhale.

Ideally she should leave too, but she doesn't want to risk running into Jai at the entrance. It could be worse, she supposes. He could have yelled at her, she could have screamed back, a table could have been flipped.

But no. Instead, he'd been entirely reasonable, unnecessarily kind and very calm as he plainly laid her deepest faults out for her before paying for their uneaten meal and leaving with quiet dignity. Samira is the one left to wallow in it, facing someone she deeply respects while pouting like a scorned child.

God this really couldn't get any worse.

His presence is obvious, a heat felt over her shoulder just as she catches the heavy scuff of his prosthetic leg when it drags against the stiff carpet, his familiar uneven gait heralding his arrival.

She lifts her eyes to find the muddied reflection of him standing beside her table, his posture rigid as he watches her watch him. The pause is too long and she hopes he'll take the hint and leave: abandon her to thrash around in her woes privately.

But Jack isn't that kind of person. She's never met someone more willful about getting to the root of something.

With a steadying breath she turns, eyes kept low as she timidly acknowledges his presence. The table top hits him mid thigh and she allows herself a moment to take in the stretch of his dark dress pants over his legs, the hand at his side twitching slightly as he waits for her. She tracks upward, taking in the creases of his brown leather flight jacket over a black knit top, and finally — reluctantly — settling on the familiar contours of his face.

Jack regards her with a hesitance, seemingly just as uncomfortable as she is about the situation. The white and amber scruff ripples along his cheek when he flexes his jaw, mouth clenched with tense anticipation as they take each other in. His hazel eyes are steeped in pity that she does not want to confront.

Being in an unwillingly vulnerable state with him raises her hackles, but the shift in his posture, the dropping of his shoulders as he tilts his head forward subconsciously sets her at ease.

"Mind if I?" He gestures to the newly vacant seat across from her, a brow arched in question.

Samira doesn't answer, just watches him with shiny eyes, lips parted in overwhelmed shock as she forces down a shaky breath. Jack frowns at the way her chest visibly racks. He throws a brief glance about the room before pulling the chair out and settling in across from her.

He offers her the flat press of his lips pulled back in sympathy as he takes her in. She watches him follow the pull of her lips as she kneads them, notices his frown sink deeper as he meets her eyes again and finally speaks.

"Hi Samira." Jack's familiar rumble is a honeyed sound to her, comforting and gentle as he cautiously eases himself into her space.

"Hi —" she hiccups, her whispered greeting thick with emotion. "Hi Jack."

He studies her face for a moment, takes in the tear stains and trembling lip with a discontent expression, and she doesn't know what to do other than allow him his fill of her sorry state. In a flash his demeanor shifts again, his face painted with discomfort once more as he searches for something else to say. She decides to circumvent the small talk and get to the pith of it all.

"How much of that did you hear?"

Jack shrugs, rocking forward a bit as he searches for the most tactful way to relay his viewing, finally settling on, "They seated me about ten minutes ago."

Samira's eyes close in shame as she prays to whichever being runs this show to offer mercy and strike her down now.

"If it helps at all, I didn't realize it was you for a bit, so I missed most of the flirting." He clears his throat. "Sorry to say I can't offer a performance review on that."

If he thought she'd laugh at that he was dead wrong. Samira keeps her head low, fighting back more tears as she replays every bit of the fallout he'd had a front row seat to. She prides herself on her levelheadedness and the ability to move around unplanned disruptions, but the humiliation she feels in this moment is like a chest sitter, and she thinks she'll stop breathing.

She's not a big drinker, especially not when she's sad, but then she remembers the wine at her side and thinks of the man across from her, and there's no hesitation as she reaching for the glass and throws her head back for a lofty gulp. The glass makes a dull clink when she drops it back to the table.

Jack's hand reaches out, his fingers gently latching onto the stem and pulling it away from her as she grimaces at the onslaught of flavor hitting her tongue.

"Let me give you a ride home," he offers.

"No." The idea of being alone right now, of receiving Cassie's "how did it go?" text as she sits in her dark apartment, still in her dress and makeup: she can't stomach the thought.

"No, I can't — I don't want to go home right now. But thank you." She wipes at a slow tear, straightening up as she sniffles. "You should go though, aren't you waiting for someone?"

He shakes his head. "No, not anymore."

Samira tilts her head.

"My sister's birthday dinner, but she just called to bail. My niece started throwing up." He waves a hand when he sees her concern. "She's fine, just a stomach bug."

"Oh. Good."

"Okay folks, sorry for the wait!" The server is back, placing the food down with a smile before doing a double take when she notices Jack sat across from her, looking from him to the table he'd previously been occupying.

Jack notices the sour look on Samira's face as she stares down at the risotto and she knows that he knows she won't be able to touch it.

He turns to the server, smiling with familiarity. "Hey Anita, there's been a change in plans. Are you able to give that to the back of house staff to eat?"

"Um, not technically, no."

"Yeah, technically." He stresses the word. "I worked food service, I know what that means."

Anita blushes shyly at that and nods. "It'll be taken care of."

"Good to hear." Jack grins at her as he reaches for his wallet.

"Oh, the food was already paid for by the… first guy." She bounces a quick look between them, and Samira already knows this will be a hot topic among the waitstaff after they leave.

"You two have a nice night." Anita nods politely, bangs and ponytail bouncing as she hastily ushers their dishes back to the kitchen.

Jack nods, brows raised in mock surprise as he stands.

"He wouldn't leave me with the bill."

"Hm. Nice kid," he quips as he approach her seat, hand out in an offering as he waits for her.

"What?"

"You still hungry?"

She looks down at his outstretched palm and thinks about how much she paid to get dressed up. The dress, the hair, the nails.

No point in letting all her effort go to waste, she thinks as she places her manicured hand in his warm palm, shivering at the grip of his thick fingers around hers as she lets him lead her from the restaurant and out into the city.

They end up five minutes down the road, seated by another large window as a plate of vegetable tempura is placed between them. In the walk between Piatto and here Jack hadn't once loosened his hold on her hand.

The journey had been a silent one, her focus coming in and out as she trusted him to guide her around the streets of downtown Pittsburgh while it slowly lost its daylight. He'd looked over periodically to check in, and she'd offer a small smile and hand squeeze.

Since leaving for Presby nine months ago they'd kept a channel of communication via email. Links to studies, new journals, the occasional question from him asking how life was, what she was up to. Jack was involved and intentional, someone built for mentorship, and someone she'd needed.

The pesky flame she'd carried for him in her last year of residency had remained with her. A pilot light lit deep within, easy to ignore when distraction consumed her, but blooming into something larger the longer he fed it his oxygen. He'd never known, of course. She would never bother him with her schoolgirl crush.

Samira feels shy being alone with Jack in the intimate warmth of the low hanging booth light, the two of them dressed for other people, entering a new space together. The nerves almost make her chicken out and retreat to her solitude, but then she feels her stomach roll with hunger, and those feelings are lost as she reaches for a fried wedge of sweet potato and gives it a healthy dunk into the homemade teriyaki sauce.

It's thick and sweet and she lets her eyes close as she licks it off of her fingers and lip, savoring the molasses-like texture in her mouth.

"Good?"

Jack is watching her, arms crossed and a gentle question on his face.

She nods, sighing on a deep exhale. The sour feeling in her empty, wine-lined stomach is slowly easing now that she's finally being fed.

He lets her eat in silence, grabbing an awkwardly shaped piece of broccoli and dipping it in the ceramic sauce cup. Samira watches him fit it into his mouth in one go, catching teriyaki sauce on the corner of his mouth as he does. She observes him with a cat-like stillness as he hums, licking it up in one clean swipe before sucking the tempura grease off his forefinger and thumb, just as she had.

Samira leans further into the hand cradling the side of her face, propping her chin up as she chews and watches. She lets her pinky curl down to the side of her mouth, absently tracing a delicate arc where she sees the smile lines that bracket his own mouth. She'd always been mesmerized by his cheeky smile. Being near him again is making her realize just how much she missed being trapped in his orbit.

She speaks so she'll stop staring. "You didn't have to do this."

Jack raises a brow as he reaches for his water, pausing with the straw inches from his mouth. "I thought it was obvious I didn't have to." He takes a sip. "We both needed to eat and it wasn't happening there for either of us."

She shrugs at that.

"Besides, I'm glad I was there." His voice is low and rough, tinged with discomfort as he says it. "You know, I know you're probably feeling embarrassed, and breakups are always hard —"

Samira stops him. "That wasn't a breakup, that was a first date."

Jack's mouth clamps shut, his expression an equal mix of surprise and confusion.

"Oh."

"Jai and I grew up together. I haven't really seen or heard from him in about ten years." The admission may be more embarrassing than his witnessing the event.

"My mom has…" She inhales heavily. "Since she found out I wasn't coming home anymore she's been a bit more involved as far as my love life is concerned. I think she's afraid of losing a bit of control over me."

Just as she decides to reach for another bite, her phone rings, the screen lighting up with a WhatsApp call from her mom. She pinches the sides of the phone, sending it to voicemail. Her fingers have hardly made it back to the the platter before two messages banners buzz in.

"So you've been dating?"

He's looking down at the plate when he asks her, fiddling with an onion that's losing its structure in the sauce.

"I don't know if I'd really call it that. She sends them and we'll meet, but nothing's really worked out. I was kind of hoping that would be the last one. If it worked out she'd get off my back and I wouldn't have to think about who I'm going to marry anymore; it would all be set."

Jack coughs on the piece he's just tossed into his mouth.

"Sorry." He abandons the straw, going straight to the lip of his cup and taking a long pull of the ice water. "That's uh. Wow. That fast?"

"Why not? I'm thirty-two, it's not like I'm getting any younger."

"Samira, thirty-two is still very young." His laugh is far from condescension — incredible disbelief, more so. "Thirty-two is a whole lot of life left to live. I didn't really expect you to be someone who would see that as a hard limit."

Samira sits back, arms crossed in defiance.

"Okay, since you're the expert, how old were you when you got married?"

She knows he wants to lie. His mouth opens and closes a few times, a hand coming up to rub his stubble covered cheek while he tries to manipulate his answer in favor of his argument.

He shrugs, trying to brush off the question.

"Twenty-three, but!" He points at her when she jerks her neck forward in emphasis.

"But, we were high school sweethearts. We'd been dating for almost ten years by that point. You" — he gestures to her in emphasis — "are talking about marrying a guy within, what, two years of dating? You're putting a lot on a kid who doesn't know you."

"He's not a kid, and Jai does know me," she rebuts as he waves a dismissive hand.

"Knew you."

"He made it very clear that I haven't changed." The sardonic tone she's employs does little to stop her from shrinking back as she recalls his words.

Jack catches the shift in her body language and leans in, his face and voice deeply serious.

"Fuck him."

"Excuse me?"

He doubles down, his words punchier the second time. "Fuck him. He doesn't get to tell you who you are or make you feel bad about yourself. Years apart and thirty minutes of catching up doesn't tell him anything about you. What you do is hard. The only thing he was right about was telling you that you deserve someone who understands you."

She's so wrapped up in his conviction that she hardly notices their food's arrival until Jack is scooting pumpkin curry in her direction, shuffling the bowl of rice along close after.

"Eat," he gently prompts, already digging into his pad thai.

Samira watches as he mixes the dish around, evenly distributing the toppings throughout. That pesky crush that lingered is itching at the back of her neck and it irritates her to acknowledge its presence.

It's hard for her to snuff out the flame when he's just so… Jack.

"I noticed you were dating too." It's not the smoothest entry point, but he seems to take it in stride.

The tungsten wedding ring she'd never seen him without had disappeared a few months into her final year at PTMC. Nothing could be known for certain without asking him directly, but she'd aptly assumed it meant he was stepping back into the dating world. Confirmation came later by way of a conversation overheard between him and Tim at handover.

Now, much like then, she has to tamper down the jealousy she feels at the idea.

"I guess. Not much recently, though." He shrugs with a so-so sway of his head.

"Really?" She tries to ring in the eager note in her voice.

She has no right to ask, but the small flair of jealousy nudges her to inquire.

"Why's that?"

"Depends on who you ask," he huffs. "Not a lot of free time, my schedule's not very attractive to women looking for certain levels of commitment. Most of the time they're great people but it's just not clicking. Pretty standard stuff, but mostly my own fault."

He sits with the thought for a moment.

"I don't know. I've changed so much since the last time — never really thought I'd be back here. I guess I'm just scared to meet myself again, ya know?"

Samira feels a conflicting wave of emotions at that. She understands him. The exposure that comes with subjecting yourself to someone's fresh view of your person is frightening. But knowing someone like him is struggling to find a companion isn't a comfort. He, more than anyone, deserves to find it: and should be finding it easily. Whatever changes he's referring to aren't bad ones, because she likes who he is.

She twists her lips in a sympathetic pucker. "We're quite the pair, huh?"

Jack's mouth twitches up in a way that feels conspiratorial.

"What are they gonna do with us?"

Samira snorts as she starts ladling curry over her rice. "Maybe we should start a group or something. Host meet ups and join together with the lonely souls of Pittsburgh."

He swallows a fork-full of noodles as he hums.

"Hm. Kinda like this?"

For a moment there's nothing but silence paired with his scraping fork and her clinking spoon.

"Yeah, I guess,"she cedes.

"So like a date?"

Samira blushes, slowly pulling the spoon clean between her lips as she tries to work around the lump of nerves in her throat. Finally she swallows, the sweet pumpkin and coconut coating her tongue and throat as her head spins.

"Is it?"

He pauses, peanut covered noddles hanging limply in front of his mouth.

"Some would say."

There's a blooming in her chest, not dissimilar to what she'd felt early in on her date with Jai, but very different in many ways. Jack knows her, for one. If anything he was around while she experienced an active change in who she was. What Jai claimed to be a fault, Jack seems to enjoy the company of. At least to some degree.

Jack is a known flirt, and Samira is no longer immune to his charms. Maybe she'll let herself believe this could be a date.

They polish off their meals quickly despite the constant stream of conversation, both starved from their delayed dinner plans as well as for each other's undivided attention, and just before nine they're out the door again, the overhead bell dinging as they depart with a wave to the closing staff.

She'd argued with him over paying, the conflict brief because, again, he's Jack, and he's going to pay for it if he wants to. All she can do is blush and thank him.

There's no chance for Samira to wonder how they're going to end the night and head their separate ways, because Jack beats her to it, his head tipped towards the center of downtown.

"C'mon, we can walk off the meal. The night's still young."

She's a bit flabbergasted by the proposal. "You want to hang out with me?"

Jack smiles, his eyes darting briefly down her figure in an appreciative way. "Seems like a shame to let all your hard work to to waste."

He holds his hand out again. "You said you haven't explored the city, so let's see some of the sights. It's best at night anyways."

"I —" Samira's smiling at him as she feels her phone wake up with a flood of messages again. She frowns as she reaches into her purse. "Sorry."

Jack watches her unearth her phone and swipe through the banners on the home screen. Two more calls from Amma, a slew of texts, and a message from Cassie asking how it's going.

She holds down the home and volume button and quickly swipes to shut the phone down completely, acting on pure instinct as her anxiety piques.

"Everything okay?"

Samira shoves the phone back into her bag and shoulders the strap higher.

"Let's go."

She sets a brisk pace as she heads down the sidewalk, rushing towards anything that isn't the oppressive weight her phone and its unanswered messages brings.

It's not until she feels Jack's hand latch onto her elbow that she realizes how fast she was moving.

"Easy," Jack drawls as he eases her pace. The hand smooths its way down, grasping her palm in an entanglement of fingers that has her forgetting what exactly she was trying to escape. "No rush."

"Sorry," she cringes as he simply keeps on forward, dragging her along behind him a bit as she tries to school the embarrassment on her face.

Jack's hair is longer than his usual cut, the bottom dipping lower on his neck and curling out wider than she's used to seeing it. She stares at the mess of curls and waves as they reach a stop light and he pauses.

"You wanna talk about it?" He turns to glance at her sullen expression from over his shoulder.

The look is petulant and she huffs in exasperation when he tugs on their joint hands to pull her forward.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." Dread lays heavy in her belly at the thought. "This was supposed to be the last one. Everything is so fucked, I don't understand why I can't just have what I want."

"And what is it that you want?" Jack asks. "It can't be to get married so your mom will leave you alone."

It kind of is. At least right now. And maybe that's short sighted, but it would clear up space for her to start worrying about more important things.

"Would that be so bad?"

He shrugs. "Maybe not. But that's not what you want."

She furrows her brows at him. "I want a lot of things."

Jack tilts his head at that, a creeping smile pulling his cheeks up. "It's been too long without you gracing the halls of the Pitt, Dr. Mohan. I'd kind of forgotten about the attitude."

Samira's mouth opens in shock.

"I don't have an attitude!"

"You absolutely do," he teases her, chuckling at what she assumes are memories of said attitude. "It was a major pain in Robby's ass."

Samira blushes at that.

"But it's okay, I've always enjoyed it." Jack's eyes squint as he smiles at her.

She wants to look upset, but the mirth in his eyes loosens her up, and she can't help but throw him a badly concealed smile as she rolls her eyes.

The crosswalk indicator lights up and they start across the intersection, Jack's firm grip keeping her close to him as they speed walk, his eyes on the lookout for rogue vehicles as they cross safely to the other side.

They pass by a few clusters of people, some on dates as well, others walking pets or out for an evening stroll. Its all very familiar — the hand holding, the casualness within the gesture — and for a time she's able to convince herself that they've done this before. That she's explored the city she calls home and Jack takes her on dates to see pieces of it that only a real local would know.

Glowing lights alert her to the spectacle before they round the corner, but Samira still gasps as they approach a looming, French court-style building. She takes in the large arched window framed by floral mason work as they pass, her focus moving down to the large patina-ed awnings over the wide doorways.

"It's beautiful. I didn't know they had buildings like this here," she marvels.

"You've never been to Heinz hall?" Jack stops them as they pass by the first entryway.

Patrons in formal dress have begun spilling out in a steady stream, making their way down the sidewalk and across the road.

She shakes her head. "What do they do here? Plays?"

"Concerts mostly. Symphonies, travelings shows. Everyone comes here at some point on a field trip and tours the stage."

"I've guess I've just never had anyone mention it to me."

"Well —" Jack's phone rings and he frowns down at the screen.

"My sister again, sorry. Mind if I take this?"

"No, go ahead." He carefully untangles their fingers and Samira watches him step away a few paces, just enough to make the call private while keeping each other in sight through the small crowd forming.

She smiles as he starts speaking into the receiver, her attention roaming back around to the building as she takes in the facade, scanning the wall of plexiglass protected posters advertising upcoming events. Samira spies herself in the one directly next to her and her eyes widen. Ducking close to see clearer in the distorted reflection, she finds a majority of her lipstick missing from the center of her lips — rubbed cleanly away by her dinner.

"Shit." She hisses under her breath as she scrambles for her purse, digging around her keys and phone in search of the small tube of lipstick. Samira was already nervous as is, but nervous and walking around with a berry red ring around her mouth? Really excellent stuff.

The marquee lights framing the case are bright enough for her to see herself as she leans in and begins dabbing the lipstick, careful not to overdo it. If she finds out later that it was on her teeth as well she'll happily throw herself into the river.

Satisfied with the coat she's applied, she rolls her lips and glances in the background to see if she can catch wether or not Jack's still on his call. It doesn't take long for her to spot him, and when she does he's already looking her way.

One hand in his pocket, phone still to his ear as he speaks, eyes locked firmly on her with that famous stare. She doesn't think he sees her watching him — the flimsy pane and light distorting the reflection the further away you get — and she's thrilled at the opportunity to watch him in return.

He's not sleazy about how he observes her, his eyes only occasionally trailing down her body. It doesn't linger too long before returning to the back of her head, watching the gentle sway of her perfectly placed curls in the light spring air.

His hand absently moves around his belly to mime the questions he asks, and when a small smile plays on his lips as he stops to listen and nod, Samira has the crashing realization that maybe Jack isn't with her right now because he feels bad for her.

He'd be right to — and she'd understand completely — but the way he's looking at her…

It's subtle, but she catches a shift in his body as he relaxes.

Well. She thinks he might even be pleased by the opportunity.

A spike of heat rushes through her at the idea, followed soon after by a shiver from the evening wind's chill. Jack makes a movement that indicates he's nearing the end of the call, and she quickly caps and stashes the tube before running a hand through her hair, fluffing it as much as she can before turning back to meet him.

"Alright, bye." He hangs up, depositing the phone into his pant pocket as he reaches her. The second his hand is free he's shucking off the leather jacket. "Here."

Samira watches the short sleeves of his dark knit top strain around his biceps as he drapes the jacket around her, holding it up for her to slip into.

"But you have short sleeves," she argues, both unsure of how to accept the kindness, and very much trying to help herself by keeping the sight of his bare arms out of her direct vision.

"And you don't have any," he notes as he lifts a brow, motioning for her to slide her arms into the sleeves."I should have given it to you earlier when we left Piatto."

Once her arms are snug he fixes the collar and smooths out the shoulders, the movement upsetting the cologne that's set in and releasing it into the air. He smells like teak with a cut of antiseptic.

Satisfied, he reaches for her hand again. "Besides, I run hot, and we won't be outside much longer."

"Oh. Where are we going?"

He doesn't reply as he tows her along, closing in on one of the building's exits.

"Jack?" Samira's voice pitches up the closer they get to the crowd of bodies.

"Too late to buy a ticket. Duck when I say."

"Abbot!" She hisses as they merge with the crowd, Jack pulling her up closer as they reach the security guard bidding patrons goodnight.

"Down! Down! Down!" he chants lowly into her ear, tucking her under his arm as he crouches to dodge below the shoulders of a passing group. Samira's heart races as she crowds herself into his firm body, doing her best not to be the reason they're caught.

He straightens them back up once they're a good few feet away, releasing her from the heady cologne infused cradle of his side.

"C'mon!" he whispers as he tugs her into a light jog towards a red carpeted staircase.

Samira throws a hesitant look over her shoulder. He's seemingly deemed them as being in the clear, but she's not at all certain that his call is to be trusted. No one yells or chases after them, so she lets him pull her along as she tries to quiet the jackrabbit thumping around in her chest.

"You're the worst!" She punches his shoulder as she stumbles back into step with him on the stairs.

His reaction is bigger than the force she hits him with, and he turns to her with a dramatic gasp.

"If I get booked for breaking and entering because of you —"

Jack scoffs. "It's not breaking and entering if there are people here."

"That's not how that works!" she shrieks through an incredulous laugh.

Jack smiles at the sound, his mouth twitching and pursing as he fights off a bigger grin.

At last they reach the top of the steps, and Jack slows their pace as the golden shine of the room's lighting bleeds over them. Samira goes silent, her smile dropping into abject shock as she takes in the grandeur of the room before them, its beauty snatching the breath right out of her lungs.

They're on a second story balcony looking down into a modestly sized lobby, the granite floor flooded with bodies as people linger and chat with post-show drinks. But that's not what has her struggling to form words.

White fluted columns line the room, reaching up into an arched ceiling that's lined and embellished with intricate gold leaf crown molding. At the head of the room is the window they passed outside, its inner face draped with sheer pleated curtains, and framed with a sturdy wine red curtain that falls in a gentle drape; its cording and boarders embroidered in a rich golden yellow that gives it a regal air.

Ultimately, it's the chandeliers at the center that really grab her.

There’s nothing spectacular or unique about their design, but in this space, with the light on their glass refracting reds and creams and golds, they're ethereally luxurious. Flossy and dazzling.

Samira turns to Jack with a smile — expecting him to be just as taken by the opulence — but she finds him looking right at her.

His smile hitches up, deepening the crows feet that frame his eyes. "What do you think? Is it worth the price of bail?"

She shamefully indulges herself, allowing him to watch as she drags her eyes down his face, biting her lip at the white and amber scruff he's let grow out. The hair over his jaw ripples where he clenches it.

When she meets his eyes again they're anxiously heated, waiting for her to speak.

"It's beautiful," she breathes softly, squeezing his hand gently in emphasis.

Jack bites his lip, looking down at her mouth as he does it.

"One more room." His voice dips low, scratching deep in his register as he steps out to usher her in a new direction.

Samira throws one last look at the room, soaking in the dripping light of the chandeliers a second longer before she lets herself drift along in Jack's current.

He leads her across the balcony, walking near the edge so she can glance down at the expansive hallways as they pass by. She feels like she's stepped into a slice of a royalty as they putter over the plush carpet, hand in hand in amicable silence as she lets herself fall just enough behind so she can soak in the skin at the edge of his sleeve without him noticing.

For a moment she imagines a world where he picked her up from her apartment and brought her here on purpose. An evening spent together with intention rather than out of coincidence. Something like all the other dates he's been on in the last year.

Samira does her best to choke down the jealousy she feels bubbling up at the thought again.

They come up on a set of double doors and he pauses to pull gently on the brass handle, testing the locks before swinging it open to let them through. The concert hall is empty save for a few ushers milling about, checking around for lost belongings and messes to clean up.

An orchestra played tonight, evidenced by the chairs and music stands that line the stage. Jack leads her to a random row in the middle section of the balcony and sits them down in the center of it.

Samira scoots into the chair and takes in the room. Much like the lobby, its height is expansive and the detail work ornate. She imagines them seated here on a busy night, flanked on all sides by other patrons in sleek outfits.

"I haven't been to a theater like this since I was in grade school," she comments as she angles her head up towards the ceiling. "I think it might have been an opera, but it was in a really crummy local theater. Nowhere near as fancy as this."

"I love two things. I love you, and I love the opera. If I could have the two things that I love together for one night, I'd be satisfied to give up the rest of my life." Jack's voice lilts with what she thinks is an attempt at a New York Italian accent.

"Pardon?"

"Moonstruck?" he tries.

She shakes her head.

"Cher and Nicholas Cage."

Samira throws him a blank look.

"He's missing a hand, she's marrying his brother, they fall in love and he takes her to the opera." Jack speaks like any of those words are supposed to mean something to her. "Great movie, you should watch it."

He's so odd, she thinks.

"Are you sure we're allowed to be in here?"

"We're here, aren't we?" Jack looks around in emphasis. No employees have yelled at them or called for security to drag them out. That's always a good sign.

She snorts. "'Allowed to be' and 'undetected' are two very different things, Abbot."

Jack looks playfully offended. "I would never put you in actual danger, Samira, you know that. The most we'd get is a slap on the wrist and a boot to our asses as they send us on our way. Nothing wrong with that."

Samira never had a reckless phase in her youth — or her twenties. It's not hard to imagine Jack as having one; it's a clear image when she pictures just how much trouble he must have gotten into in his youth. For as serious a doctor as he is, he carries an air of defiance and whimsy that she understands to be defining traits.

She wonders what it would have been like if they'd met in their teens. Would she have been charmed by his puckish behaviors? Given the opportunity, would she heed his insistence that she learn to live a little?

"You know, I could have planned a way better date if I'd had more notice. I could have bought actual tickets and seen a show instead of smuggling you in."

Jack's face is completely serious when he says it, not the barest hint of jest in his words.

Samira swallows. "Date?"

The question is nebulous, nothing but a word, but Jack knows what she's asking.

He shrugs, not brushing her off, but affirming. "Unless you don't want it to be?"

"Very chivalrous of you to attempt to revive the carcase," she jokes.

Jack turns to her with a stern look.

"No. As far as I'm concerned that one never happened." He shakes his head. "That date ended the moment he upset you. This is a different date.

Jack looks at her in a way that begs her to believe him. "I'm not carrying around that one's ghost."

Samira doesn't know how many times she can be left speechless by him in the span of two hours, but he's done it on shift plenty of times, so it only makes sense that he'd be able to manage it anywhere.

They sit for a few more minutes before he stands, smoothing down his pants as he turns to her.

"Thoughts on ice cream?" he asks.

"Big fan."

"If you can stand the walk back to my car, I've got that and one more place to show you before we pack up for the night."

She points her crossed leg out, wiggling her foot back and forth as she displays her sensible flats. "Looks like fate's on our side."

Jack smiles, reaching for her hand again as he hums. "Very auspicious."

Jack pays — again — for two single scoops at some retro ice cream parlor Samira — again — has never heard of.

They don't drive far before he's pulling in at what looks like a historic park entrance. "Don't worry, we're skipping the museum leg of this outing. We're here on strict business."

"And what business is that?" Samira queries as he comes around to open her door.

"Big fountain," he simply states.

Jack keeps them on the outer trail where it's lined and brightly lit with lamps. There's a decent crowd out at the late hour, most of which have started back in the direction Jack and Samira are coming from.

Point State Park pierces right through the Ohio river, splitting it into a fork that affords Pittsburgh its nickname: "the city of bridges".

Shrouded fully in darkness now, the city is lit up in all its glory, reflecting off the dark waters in a glittery mess of color.

"I promise all my good date spots aren't former elementary school field trips," he says after a time, crunching on the last of his caramel and graham cracker cone. "I'm actually very good at planning, you know, appropriately mature dates."

"I'm sure." She snickers as she bites into her cone, savoring the taste of mint and chocolate as she hums at the exasperated look he throws her.

"No, I really do believe it. I've seen your work under pressure, you're very good. I'd believe this was a highly thought out plan if I didn't know better."

"Okay, now you're just insulting me," Jack says in mock offense as Samira throws her head back in a genuine laugh.

She sighs airily as she swallows down the last bit of her cone and licks her fingers.

"Oh, there he is."

Samira doesn't have time to question what the stray comment means before Jack is scooping up her hand and pulling her into his side. She whips her head around, looking for the "he" Jack's talking about. In the distance she spies a figure on a bike approaching. Its spokes are lit up in multicolored LED that twinkle in and out at an aggressive speed that disorients her slightly.

She can't quite make out a face with his dark sunglasses and large, red beard, but as soon as he's close enough to see them, he starts singing — loudly — and surprisingly in tune.

"Tell me now, is it so? Don't let me be the last to know."

Jack chuckles, moving his hand up around her shoulder.

"My hands are shaking, don't let my heart keep breaking, 'cause…"

He's closed in now, getting ahead of them some feet before turning abruptly and startling Samira.

"Don't worry, he's harmless," Jack whispers to her as the man starts circling them in a wide arc, keeping pace as they continue their walk.

"I need your love! I want your love! Say you're in love, in love with this guy!"

Samira is still tucked into Jack as she whips her head around wildly to follow the bike, feeling his chest expand as he huffs under his breath with a light snort. "Alright."

"If not, I'll just die!"

He holds out his final note as he finishes his last circle and rides off behind them, his voice fading out as he rings the bell on his handle and starts another song.

Jack bursts into laughter at Samira's expression.

"That's just Wes. He's usually out here doing that. Didn't know he stayed out this late, though." He looks back over his shoulder at where he's disappeared off to. "You get to meet all the colorful locals on the street team."

They reach the end of the trail at last, spilling out onto a large stone landing.

"Oh wow," Samira breathes.

Cradled on both sides by the river stands a large water fountain. The main geyser's center is brightly lit with a warm yellow light, accented by the cold blue spotlights framing the ring of the pool.

A few people linger near it, some tossing in coins, others dipping their hands in to feel the cold water. One woman shrieks when the wind picks up, gently pushing the water's spray in her direction.

"You can just make out PTMC," he points off to their right, guiding her to find the very top of the building, barely visible through trees and surrounding structures. It's fun for a moment, being able to see something she recognizes and pick out a part of her life from a new angle. To give it a fresh perspective.

The smile slowly fades from her lips as she glances around at the other parts of Pittsburgh she can spot. A wall of trees cradling a cable railway that slowly creeps up the hillside, a stadium lit up for a concert that carries a distant rumble of cheers over the water and to them.

Samira turns back to the fountain with a heavy feeling in her gut.

"Five years here and I don't know anything about this city." A couple takes a selfie in front of the fountain as she speaks. "All these years telling patients to find community, encouraging them to reach out and look for something to give them purpose and I never did it for myself."

She turns to Jack and finds him watching her again, this time with a contemplative look.

"Have I just been wasting my life?"

"I don't think that's possible for you, Samira."

Sometimes he can be too affirming, and she tisks as she rolls her neck to face away from him, shaking her head in frustration.

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. You're one of the most intentional people I've ever met. Whatever choices you've made for your life had a purpose that you understood. Not everyone is going to see that."

"But there are other ones I've ignored. Ones I've chosen not to make."

Jack's expression resembles the one he wears when teaching — curious at what conclusion his student will reach, and how quickly.

"Why do you think that is?"

Samira's mouth tugs down into a tight frown as she looks up into his eyes, searching for an answer so she can avoid coming up with her own. Jack recognizes the look and doesn't give her the easy out. Instead, he levels her with his own neutral stare, waiting silently for her to find it.

She huffs, looking back out at the river as she thinks.

"I was too scared to."

Jack humphs, a displeased sound.

Samira twists her lips and thinks again.

"Or maybe I wasn't ready."

Jack seems to like that answer.

"I think the only thing you can blame yourself for is the fact that you haven't allowed yourself to look back and interrogate those decisions — or lack thereof — and that's a human thing to do, so it's not worth beating yourself up over it."

"You're too nice to me, Jack."

He looks surprised at the comment. "Didn't know that was something I could be accused of."

"You know, for such a known rambler you've never given me long speeches."

"You want longer ones?"

It's a fight not to roll her eyes at him. "I want you to be blunt with me. Be mean — realistic!"

Jack huffs in disbelief at her as he shakes his head. "I'm not going to be mean to you to get a point across, Samira."

"Why not? You don't think I can handle it?"

"No, I know you could, but I also happen to know that it wouldn't help you." His expression is mild — patient as he watches to make sure she's listening. "You're sharp, and help is nice, but I expect you to reach the conclusions you need on your own because you know what they are. I can't tell you what's right for you because only you know what that is."

Samira's breath hiccups slightly as she listens, the fight she wanted to pick dying in her throat. Jack leans in, forcing her to hold meaningful eye contact with him.

"You don't want to be told what to do, Samira, you just want to be supported in the journey. There's nothing wrong with that." Jack doesn't look upset. He doesn't react like she'd snapped at him at all. It's the same calm, self assured grace he carries in the ED — solid and stable as he continues. "So what's the answer, huh? What do you want and how do you want it?"

Samira feels like a bug under a magnifying glass as he watches her, waiting in relaxed silence for her decision.

"I want to start living my own life." The admission feels like a child's, like she's railing against parental control, begging to be seen as her own agent.

"And?" Jack prompts.

Samira pulls her shoulders back. "And I want to do it on my own terms."

"So do it."

The sigh she releases is bone weary and wrung out, but Jack's soft words give her the courage to face it, despite the whine in her voice.

"I think I need to call my mom."

"Yeah?" Jack looks around at the fountain's platform, noting how most of their fellow onlookers have trickled away in the time they've been chatting. "Want me to give you some privacy?"

A tiny ping of anxiety rushes through her at the idea of being alone. "Just" — she feels ridiculous asking — "Yes, but stay close?"

He nods, pointing to the fountain just down the steps. "I'll just be right there, you'll still see me."

"Okay." She watches Jack walk down the steps towards the fountain, throwing an encouraging look over his shoulder as he goes.

Samira walks down two steps before settling down and pulling out her phone.

It takes a moment for the device to boot back up. She unlocks it and opens the most recent call. With a deep breath she hits dial back.

The call picks up after the first ring.

"Amma."

Her mother's panicked voice fills her ear. "Samira, where have you been? I've been on the phone with —"

"I'm fine, Amma, I'm with a friend." She glances across the stone path, finding Jack as he settles down on the surface of the pool's glowing edge, facing her on the steps.

"What in the world happened? Dhara called and said the date ended early. What did you do?"

Samira doesn't feel the usual fight building up in her. Instead there's a weary resignation that settles as she evenly responds.

"Why do you think I did something?"

"Because it's you, Samira, you do this every time."

"No I don't —"

"I refuse to believe every date has been a complete failure, there had to be someone that you've liked! I certainly thought it would be Jai," she admonishes.

Amma's ire is too strong to allow for any injections on Samira's part.

"All this time — yours and these mens' — wasted because you refuse to engage with anyone. Why can't you try? What is so wrong with trying to make someone like you? You can be so selfish sometimes, Samira. Your pride will be the death of me."

"I'm not," Samira counters, her voice surprisingly level. "I'm not selfish, Amma. I've been working so hard to build my life and get everything in order so I can do things right. Then you had to go and —"

She cuts off as she watches Jack lean forward, his head ducked as he rubs at his hands, the noise around him drowned out by the sound of the fountain's heavy stream.

"I don't want to make them like me." Her voice warbles at the sudden swell of emotion. "I shouldn't have to try so hard."

"Everyone has to try! You especially must try when you insist on acting like this. No one wants someone so strong headed — so unwilling to yield."

"Because I shouldn't have to."

"Samira, enough of the shouldn't —"

"No." The familiar anger finally surfaces. "My whole life you've wanted me to act a certain way, to live a certain life. You've always wanted me to marry into a family you like and to be a good wife, but I don't know if I even want that because you haven't given me the chance to figure it out. The dates aren't working because I just can't be that right now."

Amma sounds exhausted as she pleads. "Why not, Samira? What is so wrong with it?"

Samira bites her trembling lip.

"I like who I am," Samira finally says.

Jack looks up at that moment, sending her a small smile and wave as she feels tears start to gather at her waterline. She waves back as she feels herself shrink deeper into the warmth of his jacket that she still wears.

"Someone out there has to like me too, right?"

The line is deafeningly silent as she rolls her trembling lip. Her voice comes out in a whisper now.

"I can't make you happy this way, Amma. I need to find it on my own."

There's a freedom that comes with finally saying the words out loud.

"And I think I know where to start looking, but you have to let me try it on my own. Please. Can you be okay with that?"

The silence stretches on as Samira listens to the subtle breathing on the other end of the line; the longer it drags the deeper the pit in her belly gets.

Finally — "It's late, Samira. We will talk about this another time." Her shoulders sag in a sort of half defeat as Amma tacks on, "Get home safely."

The line drops and Samira is alone.

She drops her hand to her lap and stares at the black screen. A single tear manages to escape and she swipes quickly at it as she sniffles and stands to head for the fountain.

Jack is watching her with a pinched brow as she approaches him.

"Hey, how'd it go?" He stands to meet her.

She shrugs noncommittally as she walks slowly towards the steps at the edge of the water. "About how I expected."

Samira pulls to a stop a few steps down, settling on a middle step with Jack right beside her. "She's not happy about how the date ended."

"Hm. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How do you feel about the way it ended?"

She considers him for a moment as he reclines, resting his elbows against the cold ground as he watches her with earnest curiosity.

"Okay, I think."

"Yeah?"

She nods as she looks out at the water. The stadium across the way rumbles with a resounding base, ushering in another roar of muffled cheers.

Samira sniffles, clearing her airway as she takes in a deep breath and releases it out over the water.

"Yeah. I told her how I feel about it all — the set ups, the expectations — and said I needed time to figure it out for myself."

"That's great, Samira." Jack's smile is genuine. "I'm really proud of you."

"We'll see if anything comes of it."

She turns away from his sympathetic gaze and ducks her head coyly.

"What about you?" she asks as she fiddles with her fingernails again, rubbing anxiously at the polish. "Are you gonna keep trying? Go on more dates?"

Jack's silence is nothing like Amma's. With him she knows there's a genuine consideration behind it.

He releases a long exhale, his mouth twitching with unease. "I don't know, I'm just not sure if I've been looking in the right places. I can't say I'm not tempted."

Samira turns back at that.

"A good dates make you rethink things," he says.

The heavy emotion of her call melts away in an instant, replaced by a heat that she's only known to be brought on by Jack.

"A good date?"

"Yeah." His voice is a rumbling drag that pebbles her flesh. "With someone you really like. It kinda makes you wonder if all the embarrassment and false starts have been worth it if it brought you here, ya know?"

He looks up at her, his expression open and waiting. Samira feels dumb as she silently watches him. She knows what he's saying — at least she's pretty sure she does— but she hesitates to ask him for the reassurance.

Jack takes her silence to mean she's not on the same page and tries to back-peddle.

"So, you know." He clears his throat, an attempt at sounding casual. "Don't let this Jai kid be the one that spoils the whole thing for you. You're really such a special person, Samira. You'll find someone you like, and I really think it's worth it for you to hold out for that, none of this settling for —"

Samira silences his rambling with the crash of her lips against his. She feels his sharp inhale over her cheek at their meeting, and after a brief second where she almost loses herself to the plush warmth of his mouth, she feels him stiffen and pulls back.

"I'm so sorry. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I thought you meant —"

Jack is still leaned back against the steps, watching her where she's leaned over him, panicked.

"Shit, Jack, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just assumed you also —"

The warmth of his palm is suddenly against the back of her neck, pulling her down to meet his lips again in an open, hungry kiss that silences her. Samira falls immediately into it, letting her body ease into him as he uses his other hand to slither under the warmth of his jacket and pull gently at her waist, tugging her further over him.

Jack drags the kisses out long and luxuriously, sending a shiver down Samira's spine when his tongue swipes up at her lips. He feels the tremor and pulls her closer, moaning into her mouth when she opens for him, the kiss quickly turning dirty as she sucks on his tongue in return. His mouth tastes like his caramel ice cream with a subtle hint of peanut from his pad thai.

There's a vague awareness in the back of her mind that Jack's back is digging into the steps — that this is a terrible place to be making out the way that they are — but she really doesn't care. In fact, they're both so wrapped up in the moment that neither of them hears Wes' approach until a loud whistle rings out along with the chiming of his bell.

Same as before, he begins to serenade:

"And when I get that feeling, I want sexual healing!"

His voice jolts them out of their heated embrace, and Jack drops his forehead into the crook of her neck with a rough groan as she cradles the back of his neck, watching Wes ride slowly by in stunned shock.

"Sexual healing, oh baby! Makes me feel so fine! Helps to relieve my mind!"

Jack mumbles a curse into her skin as he leaves small, slightly dispassionate kisses as he tries and ultimately fails to save the moment. She can feel him deflating, and Samira can't decide if she wants to laugh at the ridiculous scene playing out, or cry at the loss of Jack's lips against her own.

"Sexual healing baby, is good for me! Sexual healing is something that's good for me!"

Again, he holds out the last note as he makes his departure, leaving them both in shocked silence. Samira looks down at Jack and finds his expression more considerate than confused, his lips swollen and stained a faint pink.

"I didn't think he knew any songs after 1980."

Samira tilts her head in confusion. She feels a bubble rise up out of her chest, carrying a loud snort as she lets herself melt into a fit of giggles.

Jack chuckles as she buries her face into his shoulder, shaking as she tries to calm the overwhelming wave of joy she feels.

When she lifts her head back up it's to grasp at his face and pull him into another deep kiss, humming as he grips the back of her arms in a steadying move. She pulls away, leaving a few pecks to his lip before saying, "It's not really standard procedure for me to have sex on a first date."

Jack blinks out of his stupor, pulling himself together enough to consider and reply to her.

"I know with the leg you might feel a need to, but don't make any special accommodations for me, Dr. Mohan," he teases. "I can play the same game as the others. Probably better."

Again, she rolls her eyes at him. "Jack. This isn't standard procedure."

He swallows. "Oh."

"So you'd better take me back to your place."

Samira has seen Jack move efficiently in the ED, but never like this. They're back to his truck in half the time they walked the trail, parked at his house, and through the door so quickly she can't register the color of his doormat.

As soon as they're safely inside with the lock flipped, he has her against the wall with a thigh wedged between her legs and his hands back in her hair. She didn't have to ask, didn't have to prompt him in any way. He just knows what she wants.

They're sloppy at first, overeager and excited to collide: the realization that their feelings are shared is electric and all-consuming. So much wasted time that she wants to catch up on.

Jack's crowded so close to her she has to actively fight to get any movement in against him. His thigh is wide and hard, and if she wasn't already wet from her night of ogling, she's positively dripping now.

He pulls back from their kisses with a hot sigh. "Thank you"

"For what?" Samira breaths, her drooping eyes struggling to open fully.

"I don't know. For your hair, for your beautiful dress."

Samira pulls back, recognizing the terrible accent from the music hall. "Are you quoting that movie again?"

"I don't think you realize just how applicable it's become to my situation tonight. And I really think you need to watch it, just in general."

Samira pushes back in to silence him with her mouth, biting at his lip to drag him back down over her.

"God, you're so lame." She huffs as she starts grinding down on him again, seeking out the pressure she craves.

Jack chuckles as she pants against his mouth, and on later reflection she'll think it's in this moment that he decides to toy with her.

His body overwhelms her, crowding and trapping her in his warmth as he leaves just enough room for her hips to roll shortly over the strong muscles of his thigh.

"Take what you need," he rasps against the apple of her cheek. "C'mon, I know you can."

"Jack," she groans. "You're not letting me."

She's trying to reach his shoulders for leverage, but he's huddled too close, trapping her arms low at his waist, so she claws at him there, digging her nails in and forcing his hips forward with an accidental jerk.

"I'm giving you plenty, baby." He emphasizes his words with a flex of his thigh, sharpening his rectus femoris. "Figure it out."

She can't let him know how the command sends a rush to her head, so she huffs and paws at his shoulders, doing her best to suppress her shutter at the pet name.

"Just give me what I want."

Her breathy demand is met with a warm exhale as Jack buries his face in her neck, nipping at the tendon there before he pulls back, leveling her with a challenging look.

"You know, you're kind of a brat," he chides, keeping his voice flat and eyes hard.

"I'm just tired of wanting," she snips back.

The muscles under his eyes twitch as he drops his gaze to her mouth. She does the same to him, following the trail of lipstick that stains his lower face. He looks like a berry-drunk bear, eyes unfocused and glazed over with lust as he admires the wet, swollen mess he's made of her lips.

Jack's body moves back — just slightly — and Samira jumps at the sliver of grace he's extended. Her hands scramble up and grab his face, his stubble scraping the soft flesh of her palms as she pulls him back to her and readjust her hips, tilting into the exact angle she needs.

She nips as him as she doubles down on her efforts, the rough fabric of his pants and the hard planes of his leg offering just enough friction to assist her sprint towards the finish line.

Samira breaks the kiss with a moan when her clit catches on the perfect patch of fabric and muscle.

"Oh," she pants.

"You almost there?" His voice breaks on the question.

She's so close to what she needs, just on the edge of the perfect combination of stimuli. Her grip on his face loosens as she trails down to the bare skin of his bulging arms and slides her fingers up under the fabric of his shirt, coaxing him with the gentle stroke of her fingers over his toned biceps.

"Almost." She nods as she closes her eyes. "Almost, I just need —"

Jack pulls away completely at the confirmation, and Samira has to stop her body from instinctively lashing out at him.

"What the hell?" she whines, throwing Jack an enraged look.

"You can come on my bed." He speaks as if he's offering her a kindness — not cutting her off from her long-awaited pleasure.

"Jack."

He regards her with a blithe look, his brow lifted with expectation.

"C'mon." He holds out his hand, his body already half turned to start down the hallway.

She grabs it with some force, slapping her hand down into his waiting palm, hoping it stings him.

"You're being an ass." She intends to chastise him, but he looks all too pleased with himself.

"I think you need to learn how to wait for something good to come to you," he says as he pushes the bedroom door open.

Once inside, Jack spins her around, kissing her again before she can get a proper look around. He'd pushed his jacket off her shoulders in the hallway, leaving the soft skin of her arms exposed to his touch, now finally taking the time to greedily soak in the radiance of her body's warmth.

He touches her with callous roughened hands, a gentle man’s body made hard by years of harsh hospital soaps stripping them of their softness. Samira’s will be the same one day. In a way, his touch is a promise of the future: a taste of what’s to come.

When she pulls back her breath catches at what she sees in his eyes. More promises — these ones more immediate and carnal. With a final kiss he lifts her up and drops her onto the bed.

Jack steps back, holding her gaze steadily as he reaches behind his neck to grab his collar.

"Pull your dress up," he instructs her as the shirt is yanked over his head, the slide of the garment mussing his curls further. "And take off your underwear."

Samira wants to push back and make her own demands of him. He has a soft spot for her, and she's sure she could exploit it and he'd relent if she applied the right amount of pressure, but when he tosses the shirt to the side and she sees his chest and arms — pale, freckled, and strong — she decides for now she's better off doing as he asks.

She wastes no time hooking her fingers beneath the dress and tearing the lacy black garment down her legs — her bangles clanging together as she moves — and shuffles back to pull the skirt of her dress up around her hips as she watches him stalk closer, his eyes focused in on her newly exposed skin as she rubs her knees together in anticipation.

He reaches the edge of the bed and steadily sets the knee of his residual limb right beside her thigh, balancing himself as he looms over her. She has to crane her neck back to meet him even as he leans down. Jack pecks her sweetly while trailing a hand down her clothed abdomen down to the crux of her thighs, petting softly at the top of the curls there.

"I can see how wet you are even with your legs closed," he whispers, lips rubbing tauntingly against hers.

"Yeah, I was in the middle of something earlier." Samira nods, head still tilted back. "You should do something about that."

"I should, huh?" Jack presses between her closed thighs, wedging a finger down through her slick folds.

Samira's legs kick at the brief slide of his thick knuckle over her clit.

"I really wish you would."

He offers a small upturn of his lips. "Open up for me and I'll help you."

Knees unlocking, she spreads herself in presentation to him, eager to finally receive what she deserves. He doesn't hesitate to join his fingers, running them roughly over her clit as he pulls back up and then down again in search for more of her slick.

The movement is fast and just the right amount of pressure that has her dropping her head back limply, her neck bent in a delicate arc as she lets herself moan loudly, encouraging his good behavior.

"I love that sound," he confesses as he continues to drag his fingers over her, listening to her slick separating between his fingers and her folds . "God, you're so sweet."

She whimpers at that, spreading her legs further when she feels his slicked up fingers dip lower, prodding at her entrance. He takes the cue and slowly enters her, careful not to overwhelm her with the width of the two digits.

Samira lifts her head to watch his face as he gently pumps inside her slick cunt, her jaw hanging loose as she lets out a low moan at the pressure he introduces.

"Jack, holy shit." A pleasant buzz erupts in her legs, giddy at his touch. Her body rejoices in him finally doing something.

He hums at her as he starts scissoring his fingers, testing how much she can take as he steadily moves in and out. She watches him bite his lip as his eyes trace her face, following her expression as her gaze unfocuses at the pleasure.

"So tight, and taking it so well," he coos as he focuses in on a rhythm that has her dropping her head again.

She's too far back to find purchase for her feet on the floor, leaving them to dangle and twitch against the side of the mattress as she attempts to roll her hips up into his hand.

"Jack I need more," she groans as she feels his lips peck at the tight skin of her extended neck.

"What do you need?"

"Zipper," she pants out.

The sensitive skin of her nipples scrap against the harsh lace of her bra, creating stimuli that's both unbearable and tantalizing.

Jack's hand lifts from where it's balancing him on the bed, expertly finding the zipper between her shoulder blades and dragging it down. Samira lifts off her hands to slip the top off, bunching it with the bottom half around her stomach before hastily unclasping the bra and flinging it off.

The fingers inside her momentarily fumble as he watches her newly exposed chest heave. Their eyes meet, both glazed and heady as she reaches a hand up to pinch at a pebbled brown nipple.

"Yes!" she rasps, finally having the stimulation she's craved since he pressed her into the wall of his entryway.

"Is that what my baby needed?"

She nods as her eyes roll back, biting her lip while she lets her neck roll. Jack grips the back of her neck this time, not letting her focus fall away as she rolls and pinches and moans.

"You're going to look at me when you come, Samira." He punctuates his statement with the press of his thumb to her clit.

She jerks her hips forward again, chasing the perfect pressure he dangles just out of reach. As much as his hand on her neck allows, she tips her head back to look directly up at him, puckering her lips in a prompt. Jack presses a placating peck to her lips and pulls back, letting her pant and mewl into his open mouth, unabashedly desperate for him.

"Goddamn," he says as he studies her fondly. "I miss your curls."

"My hair is curled," she corrects with a whine.

"And it looks very nice, but I meant your natural ones."

He uses his grip on her neck to manipulate the tilt, tugging her forward and tipping her forehead closer to his mouth.

"The little tendrils that slip out right here." He kisses her temples, lingering a moment on each one. "They're my favorite."

Jack's thumb finally presses down to deliver the friction she's craved, his other movements never ceasing. The hand on her breast shoots down to his forearm, gripping him with her nails as she focuses on the quick in and out he offers her. The movement causes her bangles to clink against each other in harmony.

"I love when you're so focused on your work that you don't notice them slipping out," he admits with reverence. "Like a dark halo."

He kisses the center of her forehead as he exhales onto her damp skin. "You look like a saint."

Samira can't help but keen at the sentiment. Knowing he's paid attention, that he'd thought about her for so long — longer than she'd been wanting him. The thrill tips her ever closer to her release.

"If I had it my way," he whispers, kissing the apple of her cheek as he trails back down her face. "They'd never change. Always perfectly Samira."

She never touches her hair, the most involved product she has is a curl conditioner, but Samira made the effort for the date. For Jai.

"I thought he'd prefer it." She's almost too embarrassed to say it.

"He's a fucking idiot," he whispers harshly, his thumb doubling it's speed as he circles her clit, making a wet mess in his palm as he thrusts in and out with wet slaps.

She's so close: the release he's withheld is just within reach and he's finally letting her take hold of it — but Samira just can't help herself.

The relaxed droop of her mouth manages to twitch up into a snarky smile as she asks in a hot exhale — "Are you jealous?"

It happens so fast. He pulls his face back to look into her eyes, sees the glint of mirth and the way her face relaxes into this little game. She watches as a muscle under his eye twitches and his face go hard.

His nostrils flare as he exhales. "Okay."

The pressure building in Samira's pelvis is stripped cruelly away as Jack's hand disappears, but before she can voice her displeasure, she finds herself suspended in momentary weightlessness as she's flipped onto her stomach.

A punched out oof escapes her parted lips as she finds herself face down in Jack's clean, cream colored sheets, scrambling to find purchase on her knees before his body is over her, caging her under his strong torso as he crowds her into submission.

"Do you really think I'm jealous?" He whispers directly into her ear as she pants below him, heart racing at the exhilarating show of strength. "You think I'm jealous of some kid who doesn't know you?"

The arm planted by her head remains as he brings the other between her legs where it immediately hones in on her clit and cages it between two big fingers.

"A boy who wouldn't be able to read your body like I can?"

Samira shudders as he begins circling again, her hips gyrating into his hand as she moans.

"He could never understand you," he grunts as he catches her earlobe between his lips. "Not like me — not like I do."

"Jack!" she gasps, reaching back to paw at the top of his slacks from her restricted position.

"I know you, Samira." Jack teases her by rubbing the stubble on his chin against the side of her neck, making her shudder. "And I know that you want me to fuck you in the pretty dress you bought for him."

The reaction his words incite can only be described as animal. The need that claws at her core is red hot and insatiable as she does her best to reach and swat at his waistline again, clawing at his pants to get them off. "Please! Please, Jack, give it to me!"

"That's a good girl." He plants a soft kiss to her cheek and pulls back, shucking his slacks off with efficiency before pulling her hips back and up into the air, adjusting her knees accordingly. "Thank you for asking nicely."

He doesn't give her the chance to turn and catch a peek before the hard ridge of his cock is pressed up against her, right where she needs it most.

Samira lets her head sink heavily into the bed as she feels how he drags his length against her entrance, coating himself in her wet with a sawing motion. One hand suddenly disappears from her hip as he leans away and opens a drawer.

"No!" She lifts her head and turns to him with an aggressive shake. "I'm on the pill, I'm clean, please! I don't want it, I just want you."

"Samira, you know better," he chides as he rubs the foil packet between his finger and thumb.

"If you're clean I don't want it," she pushes back, insistent. "Please, just give me what I want."

Jack's jaw clenches as he wars with himself between what he knows is best and what he wants to give her. She knows she's hit on that soft spot and starts prodding at it.

"Please, Jack." Samira gives him her best doe-eyed look, batting her lashes as she peers at him over the gentle slope of her shoulder, her face partially obstructed by the wild curtain of her curls as they slowly lose their manufactured structure.

In a heartbeat he's tossing the foil back towards the drawer and gripping her hips to line himself up with her entrance.

"We'll talk about the attitude later."

And then he's pushing inside her, the fat head of his tip slipping through the tight pucker of her entrance in a slick slide that makes her gasp and shiver. She couldn't be less surprised at his width and is thankful for the slow way that he pushes in and out, coating himself and allowing her to adjust while still feeding her that heady pressure.

Samira's shoulders hitch and roll as she throws her hands out to claw at his bedding, working the tension through her body as she relaxes into the stretch of his wide cock inside her when his hips finally make contact with the back of her thighs. He grunts lowly as she feels the scratchy drag of his rough palm between her shoulder blades, applying a pressure that isn't dominating or forceful, but simply feeling for the ripple of her tensing muscles.

It should have been obvious to her — what the touch really was — but she's so far past focus that even she can't catch it, despite how well she understands his physician brain.

Jack is studying her, using all his senses in search of how to best tend to her, and the moment he feels her muscles uncoil and droop fully into pleasure, he knows she's ready. The hand plants firmly, his hips pull back, and finally — thankfully — he begins fucking into her.

The nose dive into pleasure has her mouth yawning open in a silent gasp. Jack's thrusts are precise and persistent and she already feels her legs shaking at the onslaught of pressure he consistently delivers to her sensitive frontal wall.

"Fuck." A sharp breath is punched out of him when his thrust pushes out a pocket of air, releasing a wet squelch that has her eyes rolling back as she finally breaks her silence over his own moan.

"Ohmygodohmygodfuck," she whines into the sheets as she continues to claw and thrash her head. "Jack!"

"Yeah," he growls, redoubling his efforts as his hand leaves its place on her back. "I'm not jealous. I can't be."

She feels him scrunch the dress into a tight fist at her lower back, using it for leverage as he pulls her back onto his cock.

"Because I'm the one that won."

Samira feels the rush of blood on its way to her head. Her limbs are heavy with it as she lets him take her, a willing sacrifice patiently awaiting the final push into weightless bliss.

Just as she's ready, clenching in anticipation of the final thrust that will send her over, he stops again.

She can't help the way her shoulders hunch and bristle. Three times he's denied her orgasm, kept her in a cruel teeter on the edge, and she's sick of it.

"No!" She shouts into the sheets as she feels tears begin to well. "Nononono!"

Despite the tension in her body, she's a rag doll when she feels his arm band around her torso, pulling her up and against his chest. His face knocks into the side of hers as he reaches for the mess of fabric around her middle.

"Sorry baby, but I'm sick of looking at it." He pulls the offending garment up and over her head, helping her arms lift to assist its removal. It rustles against the bangles on her wrists as it finally slips off and is thrown into the abyss of the corner.

In her lightheaded state she glances down and registers the drag of red across his sheets, her lipstick rubbed deep into the crip, off-white sheets. As mad as she is, she can't help the possessive thrill that has her biting her lip.

He doesn't push her back onto her knees, but instead keeps her cradled tightly to his chest as he eases her back down onto her stomach, all her weight distributed evenly and her arms folded at her sides as he settles above her in a close huddle.

Just when she realizes she'd been missing them, one of his arms comes up and settles under her chin, wrapping around to grasp her shoulder in a gentle hold. Samira rests her cheek in the cradle of his forearm with a sigh, soaking in the warm muscle under her as it ripples at his movements. Jack's face is buried in her neck, kissing and biting as he starts thrusting again.

He's slower this time, but deeper as he languidly rolls his hips.

"Now it's just us," he tells her in a possessive grumble. "And I want you to come for me."

Samira is sure she's drooling on him, but she couldn't be bothered to feel embarrassed. The combination of sensation, his weight, the heat of his stomach against her, the steady roll over the nerves of her most sensitive spot. His hand is petting her hip as he speaks, luxuriating in the skin that he can reach now with her clothing out of the way.

"Are you going to?" he asks.

She whines and shakes her head in the small allowance of space she has.

He's quiet for a moment, grumbling along to the gentle squelch resonating from between them when he thrusts lazily into her. The combination of sounds makes her spasm, her fingers flexing out at her sides.

"Do you need my help?"

She nods, rustling the fine hair on his freckled arm as she keens.

He's no longer teasing her, proven by how quickly he bullies his hand between her and the bed, lodging himself over her pelvis and expertly placing his middle and ring fingers just above where he stretches her open.

Samira has spent so long without this — not just in the dragged out events of the night, but for years. Her last proper lay being her intern year —maybe earlier — and now she's finally ready to release ages of pent up energy at the hands of someone capable and invested in her.

She pants high and loud as she clenches and the tension builds and builds and —

"I can feel it, Samira, let go." He licks at her jaw and she lets the pleasure fold in on itself.

Her legs go rigid beneath him as they tense and kick, and she thinks she might black out for a moment. The last thing she remembers is the way she bites his forearm in an attempt to stave off the scream she feels clawing up her gullet.

Jack hisses, half at the pain of her sharp bite, half at the tight clench of her around him as she pulses and comes, milking him for what feels like ages.

The way she's splayed drags out her pleasure, sending waves of sensation down and back up each limb, mapping it's way through her nervous system until it finally passes over her head and brings her back to consciousness.

The comedown is transcendent. His hand traces her side in intimate patterns as he slows his hips, letting her soak in the frothiness of the haze he's left her in.

"Jack," she slurs his name.

He hums, nuzzling further into her neck.

"Off," she mumbles into the crook of his arm. "Wanna see you."

Jack hasn't come yet, but his body and kisses are lax and drug out like he's winding down from a climax. Samira manages to un-wedge her arm enough to elbow him lightly, and with a sound of protest he finally sits up and pulls out with a groan.

"Get on your back," she tells him as she rolls onto her side and stretches out. "And take the leg off. I know it hurts."

"Making demands now, are we?" Jack huffs as he rolls onto his back, sitting himself up against the pillows and headboard as he unlatches the prosthesis and slumps back with a relieved sigh.

"I've been making them all night," Samira crawls over to him, grabbing the leg and placing it on the floor against the nightstand before reaching out to massage the sensitive flesh of his residual limb. "You've just finally found the sense to listen to them."

Jack's eyes flash with mirth as she crawls closer, propping herself between his spread legs as she leans up for a kiss.

"Brat," he whispers when she pulls away from his lips.

"No," she purrs. "I just know what I want."

Facing him now, Samira finally gets to take in everything she missed while buried under him. His curls are sweat damp and sticking out in all directions with a few dark coils plastered to his forehead. His torso, neck and cheeks are flush and pink from exertion, and Samira eagerly tracks the flush all the way down his chest, following the trail of silver hair that leads to his ruddy shaft, hard and twitching where it hangs heavy against his lower abdomen.

A pang of hunger stabs at her side as Samira finds she has a sudden craving for something salty, and leans down to kiss his neck. Jack hums at the feeling, reaching out to lightly grasp her hips as he tilts his chin to offer her more access. She lays two more kisses, pulling back to see the pinking residue of her fading lipstick on his skin. The lengths she's been able to drag it out is shocking considering how much disappeared with her dinner, and the scientist in her wants to find out how much further it'll go.

She is data driven after all.

Samira drops down to lay a peck at the center of his chest, burying her nose in the light tickle of his chest hair. Jack's chest rumbles and she feels his breath stutter against her lips as she ducks to the right, placing another just to the side of his pink areola.

She shuffles back from him so she can duck down to lavish attention to the soft fat over his sixth and seventh ribs, losing the warm grip of his hands in the process. His freckles almost disappear under the new flush her kisses inspire, and she makes sure to log that detail as well.

"Samira." Jack sounds like he's trying to warn her, but his authority is cut short by the whine clawing at the back of his throat. "Baby, get back up here."

Another kiss, right near his belly button. "Not yet."

The lipstick is fading, and she guesses she has two more solid presses left before it leaves nothing more than a sheer rouge.

She eyes his fingers twitching in the sheets as she finally reaches his pelvis, hovering low over his twitching member. Her mouth waters at the width and color of him. She'd felt it earlier, but seeing him is so much sweeter. It sends a latent chill as she remembers the sensation of him stretching her now coupled with the image. Everything that was lost in the overwhelming wave — the slight curve, the thick veins running along it — she feels now as she clenches around emptiness, her pussy drooling at the memory.

Hunger blooms bright in her as she decides where to plant her final kisses. The gentle dip between his hip and the root of his shaft is shiny and wet where they connected earlier, and she hones in on a small bead of sweat racing down towards it.

Before Jack can stop her, she's catching it with her tongue and lavishing the warm skin in a long kiss.

"Holy fuck," he gasps, stopping himself before he can buck against her too hard.

Samira's hands shoot off the bed and onto his hips to hold him down, refusing to relinquish her attention. She leaves another small kitten lick before she pulls back to admire the barely there mark she leaves.

"One more," she murmurs.

"What?" Jack sounds like he's mid sprint.

Taking care to plan exactly where she wants her final mark to stain him, Samira grips Jack's cock with a gentle but firm hand and drags her tongue from the base of the thick vein that runs up the underside, all the way to the tip.

Jack moans loudly at the wet drag as she flicks it over his head and takes the tip into her mouth in a single confident swoop. It's been a while since she's given a blow job, and Jack is thick, but she's able to fit him exactly as deep as she'd predicted.

At the sound of her light gag he digs a hand into her hair and pulls her off. Samira gasps, and the air brightens the taste of their combined, salty fluids on her tongue. Mouth open and panting, she looks back down to where she's still gripping him and sees the gentle, pinkish red ring of her lipstick where it encircles the middle of his cock.

"You've had your fun," he tells her as he gently tugs at her hair, prompting her to crawl back up to him.

She goes willingly, straddling him with her hands on his broad shoulders as he grasps the base of his shaft and lines them up. The drop is fast as she sinks all the way down and seats the plush seat of her ass flush to his pelvis.

Samira studies his reactions as she stills to let him adjust to the feeling. He's already close and she knows he'll be mad if he comes immediately, so she allots him a brief respite to prepare.

"Ready?" Her voice is scratchy when she asks.

His nostrils flare with a large inhale and he nods, finally opening his eyes. They're cloudy but focused on her as she starts her grind, back and forth in an easy drag that makes him sigh. Once it seems he's used to the pace she speeds up.

"Is that good?" she asks, eager to watch him fall apart below her.

"Perfect," Jack bits his lip as he watches her, his eyes falling to follow the light bounce of her breasts. "You're so perfect, Samira, it's fucking unreal."

She moves her hands down from his shoulders, pressing them against his chest as she leverages her weight to lift and pull herself up on each grind, not all the way off of him, but enough that the tip breeches just slightly.

"Yeah?" It's taking all her effort not to get as lost in the moment as he is. "Do you like having me in your home? Making a mess in your bed?"

Jack's eyes are foggy and strain with effort to stay open as he eagerly nods. He has just enough wherewithal to lean forward and capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly as he swipes over the bud with his tongue.

Samira gasps, feeling a flutter of nerves in her pelvis as she works herself up towards another orgasm. He releases her nipple with a pop, groaning roughly as she watches his control start to slip. It’s heady to feel like the clear-headed one here. To coo and scratch at him as he’s the one to lose himself.

Her nails dimple the tight skin over his chest as she asks, "How many of those women did you let come home with you?"

Jack's brows pinch as he tries to catch up with the question. "What?"

"The other women you were dating," she reminds him of their conversation at dinner, unable to help the bite of venom that slips into her voice. "Did you do this with them? Did they get to roll around in your sheets and come all over them too?"

She watches as realization dawns on his face and is a bit upset by how it sobers him up.

"You really wanna know?" He seems giddy at the question.

"You're not the only one that gets to be jealous, Jack." Her jewelry clinks and jingles as she moves harshly against him, making sure he pays attention to her as he thinks about those past dates, about how many others he's welcomed into his bed before her.

Jack flashes his white teeth in a sharp smile as he grabs the back of her neck and pulls her into an open mouthed kiss. It distracts her for a moment as he runs his tongue against hers before pulling back with a loud suck.

"They were just distractions," he confesses with a tiny air of shame. "I was trying not to think of you, but it never lasted. That's why they never worked."

The possessive creature in her chest preens at the confession.

"You like knowing they never made it this far? That you're the only one I've fucked in my bed?"

The answer catches her by surprise and a shudder racks her body. Jack keeps her close, holding her near as they pant into each other's mouths.

"Only you, Samira. No one but you is allowed that privilege."

A string of pleasured noises leave her as she feels the red hot bite of her orgasm creep in and she knows she's almost there.

"You close again? I can feel it."

"Yes!"

"Show me." He bites her lip in a parting kiss. "I want to watch."

Samira pulls back from the humid huddle and leans back, planting her hands on his thighs as she keeps up the rhythm of her hips.

"God look at that, huh? Look at you."

A whine from deep inside her rumbles out at the awe in his voice.

His thumb swipes along the seam where his cock meets the lips of her opening, gathering the thick white substance that gathers there.

"So creamy, baby. All this for me?"

The filthy rumble of his words almost pull her under — she just needs a little more.

"Yes — please," she cries, meeting his eyes as he flashes her a knowing look.

"Come with me."

He drags his thumb from where he traces their meeting place and uses the slick to give her a few harsh, tight circles.

Samira's body convulses and caves inward as she comes again, the familiar white hot bliss washing through her as she feels Jack go stiff, spilling his hot release inside her as she grinds in jerky, cut off motions over him.

They're moaning at a volume that has her thanking whatever creator is out there that Jack's home doesn't share walls with a neighbor.

The burn in her legs reach an unbearable height and finally give out, dropping her heavily onto his body as she struggles to catch her breath. His arms are looped around her as soon as she settles, instantly running up and down the sweaty skin of her back as she gulps for air.

Her puffs of breath disturb the coarse hair on his chest as she nuzzles herself deeper, trying to bury herself inside him.

"Tell your mom," Jack pants out below her. "No more dates."

"Hmm?" The haziness of the afterglow is quickly overtaking her, threatening to pull her into a deep sleep before she can get the sound out.

"You're not going on any more dates unless they're with me."

She drags her cheek against his chest as she nods. "Okay."

"Okay," he confirms. "Because I'm already planning the next one, and I have a lot of good ideas to get through, so it may take us a while."

Samira manages an airy chuckle as she closes her eyes. "Oh yeah? How long is that gonna take us?"

"Few years," Jack sighs contently as he pulls her in tighter. "Couple decades if we're being generous."

"Yeah. That works for me," she agrees with a yawn.

Samira feels the final pull before she slips out of consciousness, letting the melodic beat of Jack's heart and the rough trace of his hands lull her into the deepest sleep she's had in years.