Work Text:
Samira is running so late.
She was up far too late last night watching some trashy reality TV show, and she knew she shouldn’t have pressed play on the next episode but she couldn’t help it. Then she couldn’t resist the urge to snooze her alarm one more time, except one time turned into three which gave her about two minutes to get dressed and out the door. Her head was already killing her, and without time to stop for coffee and breakfast, she knew she was in for a long day.
She clocks in with exactly one minute to spare, which is a relief. She can’t handle comments about being slow or late this early in the morning. Usually she finds herself able to summon some cheeriness in the mornings, but without coffee it’s an absolute no go.
She’s examining the board, taking note of which patients still need to be handed over, when a paper coffee cup appears in her line of sight. Samira blinks at it, then follows the arm holding onto it until she’s looking at Trinity smiling brightly at her.
“Good morning,” Trinity greets, pushing the cup further towards her as a gesture to take it. She follows it up with a gentle kick to the side of her shoe. “Here.”
She’s oddly touched by the gesture, even one as simple as coffee. It shouldn’t surprise her, Trinity is often showing up to work or to hang outs with an extra treat for someone, something she just thought to pick up because she knew they would like it. Still, she feels warmed by the thought of Trinity thinking of her.
Samira says nothing until she’s plucked the cup from her hand and taken a long sip. She already feels better. “Thank you so much. How did you know I’d need this?”
“I can read your mind,” Trinity teases, taking a drink from her own cup. “You replied to my text way too late last night, I figured you’d sleep in and be a zombie by the time you got here. Do you like the caramel?”
She did, which surprised her. “It’s good. I don’t usually—“
“You don’t like to indulge in extra sweetness, I know,” she rolls her eyes, and then turns her head forward to do her own study of the board. “You’ve gotta treat yourself more often, Mira. Even if it’s just to coffee that actually tastes good.”
Sometimes Samira curses how well Trinity knows her, and how often she makes it clear that she does. It’s not a friendship she expected to forge when they first met, certainly not after treating their first patient together, but Trinity has a way of worming herself into people’s hearts whether they like it or not. Now, Samira is extremely fond of her.
Samira pouts, “I treat myself plenty.”
Trinity raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t look back at her. “You’ve been refusing to buy yourself a new coffee maker for months.”
“Okay well that’s because they’re expensive, not because I don’t want to treat myself.”
“Put it on your Christmas list, maybe your secret Santa will be generous this year,” Trinity says it absentmindedly, and then is already surging into action. “Hey, wanna hop on that tummyache in nine? You’re good with kids. I wanna get dibs before we have to start rounds.”
She’s certainly not as good with kids as Trinity is, but telling her that won’t do anything. Samira nods, taking several more swallows of her drink before placing the cup behind the desk and following after her. Her days always go better when she gets to start them on a case with Trinity.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ
“Let’s do a shot.”
“Oh my god, T, I am not doing a shot.”
“Too late, Drunkleberry! I’m getting shots.”
Samira chuckles as Dennis groans, dropping his forehead to the bar table with a thunk. Victoria reaches over to pat his head consolingly, her other hand wrapped around her watered down cocktail, which she sips from maybe once every four minutes. From Samira’s other side, Mel hums along to the song playing over the speakers, and the two of them take turns flicking pieces of a straw wrapper into one of the empty glasses on the table.
Sure enough, Trinity returns with a small tray of five shot glasses and limes. Samira winces at the thought of taking a shot of tequila of all things, but honestly all it’s going to take is one singular flutter of Trinity’s eyelashes and she’ll be licking salt and throwing the glass back. The glasses are passed around until they each have one, and Trinity takes her seat in her stool directly across from Samira. Almost immediately, there’s a foot pressed between hers on the footrest.
“Okay, everyone ready?” Trinity asks, pausing to lick a stripe up the back of her hand. Samira forces herself to look away. “1, 2, 3, go!”
There’s a scattered collection of glasses hitting the table, Trinity unaffected by the taste while Victoria scrunches up her nose. Samira shudders as the alcohol travels down her throat. Mel resumes her humming with a slight bob of her head
“Fuck, marry, kill,” Trinity starts, resuming the game she was forcing them all to play before their brief shot break. “Robby, Dana, Al-Hashimi.”
Dennis shakes his head, “That one is awful.”
“What’s the point of hanging out with your coworkers after work if we don’t talk shit about work?”
“That’s not talking shit—“
“Fuck Dana, marry Al-Hashimi, kill Robby,” Samira answers definitively.
There’s a pause, and then everyone around the table nods their agreement. Trinity grins at her, “That’s why you’re my favorite, Mira.”
Samira blames the heat in her cheeks on the alcohol while Victoria rolls her eyes. “We all know Samira is your favorite, Trinity.”
Trinity doesn’t bother denying it, and Samira forces herself not to read into that too much. It’s true the two of them have become very close in the year since Trinity’s first day, and she’s very grateful for their friendship. Trinity can be utterly ridiculous sometimes, but she pushes Samira out of her shell in a way that makes her feel like she’s finally living her own life. They’re both very close friends with the rest of their group as well, but Samira won’t pretend that it’s not different with the two of them.
“You could’ve been my favorite, Rainbow Crash,” Trinity points a finger at her, and Victoria pretends to bite at it. “But then Samira came along and was nice to me, so she wins.”
“I was nice to you,” Dennis mutters from beside her, and Trinity slings an arm around his neck.
“And now you get to deal with me every single day,” she smiles, and Dennis pretends to be put out by this, but his lips are twitching.
“I love this song,” Mel says suddenly, sending one last shredded straw wrapper into her shot glass and then sitting up straight. “Victoria, dance with me.”
Victoria shakes her head vigorously, but Mel doesn’t let her protest before she’s grabbing her wrist and tugging her out of her stool. Samira watches them go with a laugh, covering her mouth to muffle the sound when Mel starts twirling her around the dance floor. When she looks back at Trinity, still giggling, it’s to find her green eyes focused right on her, face soft and open. Samira doesn’t know what to do with that expression.
Eventually, Mel and Victoria return, both panting and grinning widely. Trinity goads them into another round of shots, and a few drinking games that Mel gets way too competitive over. Samira feels like the night could last forever and she’d be completely okay with it. Finally, Dennis’s head droops onto Trinity’s shoulder and they decide to call it a might.
They pay their tabs and make their way out of the bar, turning to the right and starting the trek back to Trinity and Dennis’s apartment. Mel and Victoria lead the way, with Dennis trailing behind them, and Samira and Trinity falling to the back. Samira swings her arms back and forth, suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol now that she’s no longer sitting still. Her foot catches on a crack in the cement, sending her stumbling to the left, until Trinity’s hand reaches out and steadies her.
“Oops,” she whispers, and squeezes Trinity’s hand tightly in hers. “Thanks, hero.”
Trinity shakes her head with a laugh, and suddenly pulls her hand away. Samira frowns down at it, then blinks when Trinity moves around her to walk on her left side, and when Samira’s hand sways back down, takes it in her own again. She squeezes it.
“What was that for?” Samira asks, confused.
“Didn’t want you falling into the street,” Trinity explains, like it’s nothing. Stupidly, Samira feels tears well up behind her eyes, blinking them away and cursing herself for being an emotional drunk.
“Take the next left, Melody,” Trinity raises her voice so that Mel can hear, and receives a thumbs up in response.
“You’re killing it with the nicknames tonight,” Samira comments, forcing her voice to remain steady. “How come you never gave me one?”
Trinity furrows her brows as she frowns at her, “I did give you one.”
“Yeah, but it’s just my name,” Samira says with a whine, “Everyone else gets a cute one.”
“You think Huckleberry is a cute name?” she laughs, shaking her head. “No, Mira, believe me. You have the cutest one.”
She doesn’t respond to that, choosing to squeeze her hand again instead.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ
Samira loves her job, but every shift at the Pitt feels like the longest day of her life. She has some days where she swears to herself she isn’t going to come back the next day, only to wake up at 6am and get ready to do it all over again.
Admittedly, today isn’t the worst when held side by side to the ones before it, but it is kicking her ass. She hasn’t had a moment to sit down in hours, and even though she’s always aware that she won’t have time to take a break, she so desperately needs one today. As soon as she even thinks about stopping in the break room, someone else is calling her name.
Finally, about midway into the shift, she discharges several patients in a row and decides she’s earned a moment off her feet. She ducks into the small room off to the side, avoiding eye contact with anyone in case it tempts them into suddenly needing her help. She collapses into a chair and releases a deep breath.
“Hey,” she looks up to see Trinity stepping inside, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Samira nods, propping her head on her hand. “Just exhausted.”
“I feel that,” Trinity agrees, and moves towards the fridge. “You hungry?”
“Didn’t bring anything today,” she mumbles, closing her eyes. Sometimes there’s no point, she just makes do with something from the vending machine and scarfs it down as quickly as possible.
The fridge opens and shuts, and there’s a scrape of the chair against the floor as Trinity takes the seat next to her. She bumps their feet together. When Samira opens her eyes, Trinity has an orange in front of her and is gently peeling back the skin. She looks up, and when they make eye contact, smiles. “You like oranges.”
It’s not a question, so Samira doesn’t answer it. Just watches as her fingernails dip into the peel, pulling it away in large chunks until she’s left with just the orange. Then she’s splitting it into slices, placing them down on the paper plate in front of her. She’s still not done, as she continues to pick away the pith stuck to each slice.
Samira has been undone by the simplest act ever. If someone told her a year ago she would find peeling an orange to be romantic, she’d scoff and roll her eyes. Yet here she is, feeling like her heart is going to thud its way out of her chest.
When Trinity finishes carefully clearing the first slice, she hands it over and watches Samira pop it into her mouth. When she bites, it’s as sweet as Trinity’s expression. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she smiles, and then works on the next slice.
They continue this piece by piece; Trinity making sure the slice in her hand is as clean of pith as possible, and then handing it to Samira to eat. She takes her time with each piece, selfishly wanting the moment to last forever. Someone could be dying outside, but Trinity Santos is feeding her an orange, so she has more important things to do right now.
“I had this dream last night,” Trinity says, eyes focused on the fruit in front of her. “We were all different fruits in a fruit salad. Made me crave oranges.”
Samira can’t help the laugh that escapes her, “We were fruit?”
Trinity nods, a goofy smile spread across her face, handing over another piece of orange. “Yeah. It was ridiculous. Like, the Pitt was just a giant bowl and everyone was a different kind of fruit. Guess what Whitaker was?”
“Hmm, I can’t imagine,” she teases.
“And Crash was a purple grape, Mel was a strawberry, I think Princess was a pear? I don’t know, it got confusing towards the end.”
“What was I?” Samira asks, plucking the final slice from Trinity’s hand and biting it in half to savor it.
Trinity looks at her and tilts her head. “You were an orange.”
Samira swears to God she stops breathing. She opens her mouth, and nothing comes out.
Before she can put together some string of words, Whitaker is skidding into the room. “Guys, we have a trauma coming in.”
Trinity groans loudly as she stands. “It was nice while it lasted. Coming, Mira?”
Samira nods, taking the paper plate of orange peels and throwing it in the trash. She follows them outside, heart still beating in an almost concerning rhythm. Trinity turns her head and flashes her a lopsided grin.
At least if Samira’s heart stops, she’s in a hospital.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ
“I hope you’re ready to party.”
“I think that’s an overexaggeration, Trin,” Samira says as she steps to the side to let Trinity into her apartment.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Trinity winks. She makes her way to the kitchen, unloading the bag of take out clutched in one hand and the tote bag slung over her other shoulder. “We are getting trashed off of shitty wine and watching so many movies.”
“Probably two movies,” Samira corrects, grabbing two glasses from her cabinet. They’re mismatched goblets from the thrift store that Trinity made her buy because she said it was sad that her cabinets were so empty. Why she needed more glasses for one person, she still doesn’t understand.
“Rookie numbers,” Trinity argues, sorting the to-go boxes and taking them with her to the couch. Samira grabs the wine as she follows her. “Fill mine up to the top, please.”
Chuckling, she follows directions and pours two hefty glasses. “Did you pick the movies?” Trinity had called dibs on choosing them, not caring to take any suggestions or opinions from Samira.
“Yes!” she says excitedly, and Samira sits next to her on the sofa. Trinity had sat closer to the middle, so it puts their legs only inches apart. “I have options for you. The Devil Wears Prada, You’ve Got Mail, Moulin Rouge, and Imagine Me & You.”
Samira stares at her, and Trinity looks back unblinkingly. “Those are my favorite movies.”
“It’s almost like I know that, Mira,” she teases, looking a little confused at why Samira looks so caught off guard.
And honestly fuck her for that. She remembers Samira’s favorite movies, and peels her oranges for her, and brings her coffee, and positions herself on the more dangerous side of the sidewalk to keep Samira safe, and then has the audacity to not understand why Samira feels out of her depth. She’s never been cared for so gently. Trinity Santos wouldn’t seem like a gentle person to most people, but Samira knows her. She knows that she’s going to love any movie Samira picks even though she pretends not to. She knows she’s going to give Samira the last bit of the wine when they run out. She knows she’s going to pretend to be cold so she can steal one of Samira’s crewnecks.
And Samira is going to have to do something about it soon.
For now, she swallows and blinks to clear the shock away. “Let’s start with the Devil Wears Prada.”
Trinity smiles widely, “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”
She sets up the movie on Samira’s TV, pulling her legs up on the couch and resting her arms on her knees as she works. Her left foot nudges Samira’s thigh once, intentionally, and then she’s tucking her legs to the side and leaving their knees pressed together. Samira counts every point of contact.
The movie starts playing and they both dig into their food. Samira learned early on that Trinity isn’t one to offer much commentary when watching something, preferring to focus and listen to the TV rather than someone yapping in her ear. Tonight though, she turns to Samira in between bites and asks, “Do you ship them?”
“Of course I do,” Samira scoffs. “Who do you take me for?”
“Just wanted to make sure you’re on the right side of history,” Trinity laughs, then shoves a forkful of noodles into her mouth and says around them, “Meryl Streep is so hot.”
Samira doesn’t even care that she’s speaking with her mouth full, because she’s just that deep into this.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ
If one more person speaks to her today, Samira is going to lose her mind.
Which is inevitable, because she still has an hour left in her shift.
Everyone has been so mean today. Usually she’s able to brush it off, understanding that the people she’s treating are in pain and most of them have been waiting hours to be treated. But would it kill them to understand she’s just trying to help?
She’s walking away from a grumpy teenager when she spots Victoria across the ER, and they share a matching grimace. There’s a free computer at the nurse’s station, which she takes advantage of to try and catch up on some charting. Her moment of peace is short lived as Dennis approaches her, shrugging in apology before he presents some blood results on the man in bed four.
Samira sighs, thanking him and then leading the way towards the curtain, plastering a comforting smile on her face as she peels it back. “Mr. Miller, we have some results back for you.”
“Finally,” the patient grumbles, sitting up straight. “Can I get out of here now?”
“Unfortunately not,” she frowns, moving to the computer and scanning her badge. "We're not seeing anything in the blood we ran, so we’re going to have to run a few more tests.”
“Seriously?” he asks loudly, brow furrowed in anger. “I’ve been here for hours. I’ve been sitting in this bed waiting for you to run some goddamn tests and now you’re telling me you need more? What’s taking so fucking long?”
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Miller,” she says, legitimate empathy waning by the second. “We’re trying to get you out of here as soon as possible, I promise, but—“
“I’m so sick of the excuses,” he interrupts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “You guys are too fucking slow around here. Maybe if you weren’t so busy chatting it up with your friends, you could move fast—“
“Hey!” A voice cuts him off, and Samira turns to see Trinity approaching, voice hardened in anger. “Watch your fucking tone with her. You’d do well to remember she has your sorry life in her hands. If it were up to me—“
“Trinity,” Samira says softly, effectively cutting her off.
Trinity looks at her, face still twisted, and seems frustrated at being stopped from reaming him out further. But Samira knows it will do her no good, and as much as she loves her for it, she doesn’t need Trinity to fight this battle on her behalf.
“Whatever,” Trinity huffs, spinning on her heel and stalking away. Dennis gives Samira a wide eyed look and she nods at him, watching as he follows after his roommate.
When she turns back to Mr. Miller, he looks chastised. She smiles tightly. “I’ll get those tests going.”
She doesn’t see Trinity for the rest of her shift, much to her frustration. She only catches glimpses of her ponytail around corners, always gone before Samira can catch up. She’s able to wrap up her patients for the most part, discharging and passing the rest on to Parker when she clocks in.
Samira hopes to find Trinity by her locker, but the hallway is empty as she grabs her belongings. She sighs and heads to her car, not needing to second guess where she’s driving to. She pulls into Trinity’s apartment complex and locates her car easily enough, parking next to it before finding herself standing in front of her door. She knocks three times.
It opens, and Trinity stands there not dissimilar to a cat in the rain, even though she’s completely dry. She’s changed into sweats and Samira’s own crewneck that has been missing for a month. She says nothing as she holds the door open and allows Samira inside.
“I’m sorry,” Trinity says finally, still standing by the closed door with far too much distance between them. “I know you can fight your own battles, I just—he was calling you slow and I saw red, and—“
“Trinity,” Samira interrupts. “Can I kiss you?”
Trinity stares at her wide eyed, mouth opening and closing several times before she stutters, “W-what?”
“Can I please kiss you?” Samira asks again, unsure what about that is unclear.
“You want—?” she shakes her head as if clearing the thought. “Yeah, Samira, please kiss me.”
Samira is on her in three strides, grasping the sides of her face and slotting their lips together. Trinity’s body melts in her embrace as she returns the contact, squeezing Samira’s hips. Her back hits the door, and she huffs a laugh into Samira’s mouth before adjusting the kiss so that she’s sucking on her bottom lip. Samira makes a small noise in the back of her throat and feels the way it causes Trinity to grin directly against her mouth. It’s the best feeling in the world.
They separate with a gentle smacking noise, and Trinity stares at her. “What was that for?”
“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met,” Samira says simply. Trinity scoffs.
“No I’m not. Samira, I just yelled at a patient because he was mean to you. I’m mean. No one has ever thought I was kind.”
“I do,” Samira argues, still holding her face firmly. “I do, and I know you. You put up these walls because you’re scared, and you’ve been hurt before, but behind them you’re just looking for someone to love you. You want to be loved and to love in return, and we’ve both been doing that for months and it’s fun but I’m sick of pretending like we don’t love each other.”
“You love me,” Trinity repeats, shocked.
“I love you,” Samira affirms. “Don’t act like I haven’t been obvious about it, just like you’ve been obvious that you love me. You peel my fruit and you walk me home and you remember my favorite things and I love you. I want to show you how much and I want you to let me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to let me tell you I love you?” Trinity teases, and it’s so them that it causes Samira’s grin to stretch impossibly wider. “Sounds like you’re just telling me I do.”
“You do,” Samira nods. “Don’t you?”
“I do,” Trinity nods.
“Good. I knew it,” she replies, and leans forward to peck her mouth shortly. “Can we stop talking around it all the time and just be together? I want to tie your shoelaces when you don’t feel like bending down, and I want to give you all my clothes to wear, and I want you to kick me under the covers because you can never keep your limbs to yourself. I think it’ll be really fun to love each other.”
“It’s gonna be fucking awesome,” Trinity agrees, and her thumb is rubbing circles into Samira’s waist through her shirt, doing an amazing job at distracting her. She lets Samira kiss her again. “We’re gonna be so good at loving each other.”
“Trinity,” Samira says, and leans forward for a longer kiss. Her tongue traces Trinity’s top teeth, fingers tugging at her hair. Trinity bites her lip as they pull away. “We already are.”