Work Text:
The shift was unlike any other, somehow feeling worse than the Pittfest shift. But things had changed since Pittfest; now close to two years later, and The Pitt was similar, but different. Two years ago though, Jack Abbot didn’t have Samira Mohan. Samira Mohan didn’t have Jack Abbot.
The two finally got together after 18 months dancing around each other, and making it everyone else’s problem. But once they were together, everything seamlessly fell into place. It all made sense. Knowing every aspect of the other came as easy to Samira and Jack as breathing did. So, when it came to recovering from tough shifts like these, they had the perfect remedies.
It had become an unspoken agreement that they had back to Jack’s after nights like these. Yeah, Samira switched to the night shift almost immediately after Pittfest, seeing how much better that team’s medical philosophy aligned with hers. It had nothing to do with the 49-year-old, greying haired, freckled man who won her over with an awkward yet smooth, besides it was too risky for me to do myself. Anyways. Jack’s place was much more barren and modern than Samira’s, but in a way that was perfect when the two needed as little stimulation as possible in order to fall back into their routines. Simple, kitchen just behind the entryway, a small dining area to the right, connected to a living area (with what Samira deemed the couch of all couches), and down the hall, two bedrooms and bathrooms. One of each were Jack’s, and those spaces matched the rest of the apartment, monotone colors, limited decor, but still riddled intentional scents that grounded Samira. It was all procedural in the best way possible.
These days, they’d walk out of the Pitt side-by-side, with one of Jack’s arms draped around Samira’s shoulders, doing everything he could to not slump into her frame, his stump screaming from hours of standing and balancing and jogging and leaning–a more pronounced limp than usual. Samira always had her arm wrapped around Jack’s waist, smoothing her palm up and down his obliques for the entire duration of their walk out to his truck.
The drive to Jack’s apartment is silent, but comfortable, with Jack’s hand attached to her thigh while he drives, Samira brushing her fingers up and down his arm, tracing his veins and freckles.
Calm. Peace. Quiet.
Before they walked out of the Pitt, Jack doordashed their usual meals from their favorite restaurant so it’d arrive by the time they got to the apartment. He grabbed the food bag and unlocked the door, allowing Samira to walk in first while he also brought in both of their work bags. Samira strides over to the couch to sit down and she immediately slumps back on the cushions, taking in some deep breaths, kicking off her sneakers to begin fully relaxing.
Jack sets their bags down, then moves into the kitchen to plate their food; a basic hamburger for him, caesar salad for her, a side of fries to share, and glasses of water. He brings everything to his living room, placing it on the coffee table. He then grabs his crutches from their spot by the front door, lays them by the end of the couch, and then takes a seat, removing his prosthetic, silicone sleeve, and sock. Taking a deep breath, he turns to Samira who now has her eyes closed as she lays on the back of the couch and gently reaches to tuck part of her bangs behind her ear, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
The action draws her attention back to the room. She presses her lips to Jack’s before she’s pulling the coffee table in closer to the couch and diving into her food. Jack follows her and the two eat their meals in complete silence, continuing to relish in this time away from the ED, but their legs stay pressed beside each other the entire time–a silent reminder. As she eats, Samira takes in Jack’s apartment that in just the few months that they’d been together, had begun to feel like a place she could call home.
Jack eats notoriously fast, most likely a relic from the Army, so once he’s finished with his burger, he goes to drop and rinse his plate before heading upstairs for a quick shower. Samira finishes eating once Jack is out of the shower, so she follows in his footsteps and they’re soon in the bathroom side by side. Jack, going through his quick routine of brushing his teeth, running a bit of leave-in through his hair, and layering a bit of lotion across his body, drawing special attention to his stump before adding some antioxidant cream there. Finally, he trims his stubble and applies some aftershave–for the smell that Samira loves more than anything else. Samira more recently has started devoting a bit more time to her routine, she takes the leave-in and some oil, dragging it through her hair a bit more diligently by sections, before braiding it. Then, she goes through her skincare routine, multiple steps that leave her glowing. Her own dental routine follows, then lotion.
The couple moved into Jack’s connected bedroom where the sun was just starting to pool at the bottom of the blackout curtains. They climb into their respective sides of the bed, Jack rolling onto his back followed by Samira placing her head on his bare chest, with their bodies entangled all the way down. The silence continues, but it’s more than comfortable. Their breaths are now synced, and they exchange soft touches–Samira drawing her hand up and down Jack’s torso methodically, while he plays with the stray curls that have already fallen out of her braid. She’d sworn on bringing her silk pillowcase to his apartment when she first started staying over, but it’d never been of any use because she’d fall asleep in this exact spot every time, head fully rested on Jack’s chest as he stared at the wonder that was Samira Mohan in front of him. She was his final sight before he went to sleep that morning, their breaths evening out together as the Steel City kickstarted its day.