“she is my scar.”

She shakes her head, smiling softly. “You aren’t going to win them over. They’re harsh judges, Alice still hasn’t made any progress with them.” 

“Alice doesn’t try,” you say bluntly. “She doesn’t want to be in their lives.” 

“And you do?” 

You lean back against the kitchen counter, shrugging. You hope the response you give is the right one. “I want to be in your life. That includes being in their lives, and I’m happy with that as long as you are.” 

“I am,” she says. Gigi comes over and places her hands on either side of you on the counter, effectively boxing you in. “Of course I am.” 

You catch a hint of her perfume, sweet and citrusy and always prone to making your head spin, and her curls brush against your front when she leans in to kiss you. 

Her hands find your hips and she takes a small step forward, pressing into you. Her touch is soft, her hands are warm sneaking up your shirt, and she breaks the kiss to meet your eyes just to see the love that blooms in them. 

“I won you over,” you say. “I don’t know exactly how I managed it, but I did. Your kids will be easy work.” 

Gigi rolls her eyes. She steps back, reaches for her mug of tea and holds it as she considers you. “You’re going to regret underestimating them.” 

— 

It’s not that the candy doesn’t work, but you don’t quite get the reception you hoped for. When Nat drops the kids off at Gigi’s after school and they pad into the house to see you standing there with two giant candy bars, your hopes are crushed when Olive looks right at you and says, ‘Alice gave us candy when she first met us, too.’ 

You give them the candy anyway, of course. Then you look behind you and find Gigi standing in the doorway to the kitchen with her arms crossed and an expression that reads, ‘I told you so’. 

The kids sit on the couch now. They have their homework in their laps and they try to be sneaky with the appraising glances they give you, but you notice. 

You sit in an armchair on one side of the couch, and Gigi sits in another on the other side with her kindle in her hands and a fresh mug of tea in front of her on the coffee table. 

You study her for a moment. She looks so at ease like this, legs folded under her and a heavy crocheted blanket over her, hair pulled up in a claw clip. Black tank top, shorts, a rose-scented candle lit on the accent table beside her. This is home. This is what she has always wanted. 

She looks up briefly and catches your gaze. She raises a brow as if to ask what you’re looking at, and you quickly look down at the paperback you’re meant to be reading. 

You don’t see her reach for her phone, but yours pings with a new notification after a second and you see that the message you’ve received is from her. 

Gigi 

Are you still okay with this? I can call Nat. 

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You’re not sure exactly what to respond with, but you know you don’t want to ruin your chances of getting what you’re on the precipice of: being fully accepted into her family, taking your relationship to a new level. 

You 

I’m fine with this. Are you fine with this? 

You sound anxious over text. You feel anxious, too. 

Gigi 

You’re nervous. 

You 

I want everything to work out. 

Gigi 

I know, but they can sense when you’re nervous. 

You 

The kids? 

As if on cue, Eli looks up from his homework. “Are you two texting each other?” 

You set your phone down on the armrest of your chair and look down at your book. “I was looking at a pizzeria online, actually.” 

From across the living room, Gigi stares you down. You know that if you looked up at her then she wouldn’t need to text you to say, ‘Really? A fucking pizzeria? That’s the best you could come up with?’

But Eli’s face lights up. He sits forward on his cushion and says, “Are we having pizza tonight?” 

You look up at Gigi. Gigi looks at you. The two of you were planning on cooking tonight, but now that it’s been brought up… neither of you are averse to a night free from cooking. 

“Yes,” Gigi answers eventually, picking up her phone again. “We’re having pizza.” 

You send her another text. 

You 

Sorry. I’ll pay, I promise. 

Gigi 

You better. 

— 

The four of you are sitting at the table with the pizza — Gigi tells you she always makes the kids eat at the table even when she usually doesn’t when they’re absent — when the first line of questioning begins. 

Olive is going to be the harshest critic when it comes to you, you think. Eli has proven easy to impress with candy and pizza and a quiet afternoon where you’ve intervened minimally, but Olive is different. She is older and has a better understanding of the world, and her disapproval of Nat’s girlfriend has already soured the idea of her other parent having a partner, too. 

“How long have you been with my mom?” she asks suddenly, staring you down over her plate of pizza in a way that uncannily resembles the look Gigi gave you a little while ago in the living room. You suppose you know where she learned it from. 

“A couple months,” you say. “Your mom was waiting for the right time to tell you.” 

“And you think that you love her?” 

You feel like you’ve been put on trial. This girl is going to grow up to be a lawyer someday. 

“I do,” you say. “I do love her.” 

“Then why haven’t you gotten married yet?” 

You glance over at Gigi for a bit of help, but she only shrugs as if it’s a valid question to ask. She isn’t bailing you out this time. 

“I haven’t found the right ring yet,” you say, and not just because you think it’s the right answer. 

“Why?” Olive asks. “Do you not have her ring size or something? Because I can tell you if you want it.” 

“Olive,” Gigi warns, “eat your food.” 

“No, that might be helpful,” you say. And while it still seems like you’re speaking to Olive, you turn your gaze to Gigi when you next speak. “I’ll ask you someday. I really will.” 

— 

You’re cleaning the dishes at the sink, alone while you work, when light footsteps sound behind you. 

You look back to see Olive in the doorway. 

“Hey,” you smile. “Do you need something?” 

She crosses her arms. “You’re not our mom, you know.” 

You sigh and pick up another dish. “I know.” 

“Alice isn’t our mom, either.” 

“She knows that, too.” 

“She’s always reminding us,” Olive says softly. She sounds sadder than you might have expected, and you look back to see her frowning. 

You wipe your hands on the towel at the sink and walk over to her, looking down. She acts so grown up, but she is still a child and she is still only a little over half your height. 

“Do you think I’m like Alice?” you ask. 

“I did when I first saw you,” she says. “I’m not so sure anymore.” 

You nod, trying not to look like you want her to think of you in one light or another. 

“You’re going to keep coming around, aren’t you?” Olive asks. 

“I am.” 

She nods, taking this in. Then she offers you a small smile, a truce of sorts, and steps out of the kitchen. “See you around.” 

— 

When you get into bed that night, you immediately ask Gigi: “How do you think it went?” 

She lies down beside you, slipping beneath the covers and nestling herself as close to you as possible. “How do you think it went?” 

You consider the progress you’ve made so far. You need more time with Olive, but you think you might have impressed Eli. “I think it went well. Better than it could have, at least.” 

Gigi shifts back a little so she can meet your eyes. You find so much love in hers, and when one of her hands reaches up to cup your face you press into it. “You were really good with them.” 

“I did okay?” 

She shifts again, closer so that she can lean in and kiss you. It’s tired, slow, and so gentle. Her hand is warm on your face still and one of her legs hooks over both of yours. 

“You did fucking amazing,” she murmurs once you pull back, “like I knew you would.” 

And she doesn’t say it, but part of her thinks she has just fallen in love with you all over again. She can see herself living with you, parenting with you, spending lazy nights and rushed school mornings with you trying to get the kids ready for class. She can see you helping Eli with his math homework at the kitchen table and Olive with her history presentations, and she can see the two of you lounging with glasses of wine while the kids are at Nat’s and making plans for family-inclusive summer vacations. 

lorraine who absolutely loves sitting at the edge of the bed with you kneeling between her thighs while she slowly pets your hair and makes you confess every filthy thought running through your head. she’ll ask whether you were imagining her fingers inside your pussy while she prayed. whether you thought about her mouth on your tits while she held her rosary beads. every shaky answer makes her wetter too.

lorraine who gets addicted to the way your body reacts when she starts dirty talking in that calm voice of hers. she’ll slowly spread your thighs apart and hum at the sight of how wet your pussy already is before whispering “look at this mess, sweetheart… all from watching me pray?” meanwhile her fingers are rubbing slow circles over your clit just to watch your hips jerk helplessly against her hand.

lorraine who loves playing with your boobs while kissing you senseless against motel pillows after rough investigations. she’ll squeeze them slowly through your shirt first, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden for her before she finally pulls the fabric down with this hungry little look in her eyes. she adores hearing the pathetic noises you make when she sucks bruises against your tits while rubbing your clit at the same time.

lorraine who loves when you cum with her cross necklace wrapped loosely around your fist. she thinks the image of you trembling beneath her while whining her name and clutching onto something holy is unbelievably filthy. she’ll keep rubbing your clit through every pulse of your orgasm too, watching your pussy clench around her fingers while she softly praises how pretty you look cumming for her.

you who can barely sit still whenever lorraine starts praying after cases now because your brain immediately goes somewhere filthy. the second she kneels beside the bed your pussy starts throbbing and you catch yourself staring at her mouth instead of listening to a single word she says. lorraine notices every single time. she always notices.

you who completely lose composure the first time lorraine gently pushes you onto your knees for her. your hands are shaking. your thighs are slick already. and the second she cups your face while softly asking “can you be good for me tonight?” you feel yourself clench embarrassingly hard around nothing. lorraine thinks it’s adorable.

lorraine who absolutely loves fingering you while still half dressed after investigations. silk nightgown bunched around her thighs while she presses you into the mattress and slowly works her fingers into your soaked pussy. she keeps eye contact the entire time too, whispering filthy praise about how easily you fall apart for her while your legs shake around her wrist.

lorraine who secretly enjoys overstimulating you because she’s fascinated by how sensitive your body becomes after the first orgasm. she’ll keep two fingers buried deep inside your pussy while rubbing your clit slow enough to torture you, calmly telling you “one more, sweetheart… i know you can give me one more.” meanwhile you’re crying and squirming beneath her because your body physically can’t stop cumming for her.

The shift had been a nightmare from start to finish. The cyber attack took the computers offline for hours, forcing everyone to scramble with paper charts, runners, and shouted orders. Fireworks casualties kept rolling in, kids with burns, adults with alcohol-fueled injuries. Your residents, your ducklings, looked like they’d been dragged through hell by the time the systems finally came back up. They were slumped over their compuuters now, dead-eyed and muttering as they transferred every last note from scribbled pages into the electronic records.

You were about to tell them to wrap it up and go home when you heard raised voices from one of the side rooms.

Baran.

You moved before you even registered it, storming down the hall. Through the cracked door you saw Robby looming over her, red-faced, while she stood rigid, arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.

“Hey, hey!” You shoved the door open and pushed between them, planting yourself squarely in front of Baran. “Robby, knock it the fuck off.”

“You knew!?” Robby exploded, jabbing a finger toward her. “You knew she had these seizures and you allowed her into my ED!?”

Your blood boiled. You reached back and yanked the privacy curtain across the glass door with a sharp metallic scrape, sealing the three of you off from the rest of the department.

“Michael Robinavitch,” you snapped, voice low and venomous, “if you think for one goddamn second this is your ED and not ours, you have another thing coming. I think you need to get off your high horse and go on this journey of yours. Take the time away to really reflect on yourself. I’m handling things now. Goodnight.”

Robby stared at you, mouth opening like he wanted to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance. You turned, took Baran by the elbow, and steered her out the other side of the room before he could say another word. She moved with you, silent and stiff, the exhaustion and humiliation radiating off her in waves.

The two of you slipped through the back hallways toward the attendings’ lounge, avoiding the main pit. The department was finally quieting down, the night crew starting to filter in. You grabbed your bags from your lockers in silence, the weight of the day, of everything, pressing down on both of you.

Baran shrugged out of her scrub top first, revealing a deep red tank underneath that clung to her frame. The familiar sight hit you harder than it should have. You followed suit, peeling off your own scrubs to reveal a simple black tank, the cool air of the lounge brushing against your skin.

For a moment you just stood there, bags in hand, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Baran’s eyes met yours, they were tired, guarded, but with that old spark underneath. The one that said the professional wall you’d both tried to keep up today had already started to crumble.

You didn’t say anything. Not yet. You just nodded toward the door, and she fell into step beside you as you headed out into the night.

The parking garage was quiet this late, the kind of heavy silence that pressed in after a brutal shift. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows between the concrete pillars. Your footsteps echoed in sync as you walked beside her, the weight of the day of Robby’s blow-up, the cyber chaos, her second seizure still clinging to both of you like damp scrubs.

Baran stopped beside a dark SUV, keys already in her hand. You halted too, turning to face her. You didn’t need to speak. The worry was written all over your face: the tight set of your jaw, the way your eyes tracked every small movement she made, searching for any sign she wasn’t steady.

She met your gaze for half a second before looking away.

“You know you-” she started, voice rough.

“Please don’t say it. I know.” Her shoulders started to wobble, the strong line of them cracking under the pressure. She looked down at the keys in her hand like they might ground her. “I just got my freedom...” Her voice cracked on the last word, and it tore through you like a bullet sharp, hot, devastating.

You felt it lodge somewhere deep in your chest, right next to all the old wounds you’d never quite let heal. The surgery had been her shot at normal. At driving again. At working without that sword hanging over her head. And now, on day one back in your orbit, it was already slipping.

“Baran…” You stepped closer, the bags dropping from your shoulder to the ground with a soft thud. You reached out, slow enough that she could pull away, and cupped the side of her face. Your thumb brushed across her cheek, catching the first hint of wetness there.

“I’m not saying you can’t do this,” you murmured, voice low and steady even though your heart was hammering. “But I’m also not pretending I’m okay watching you push through another seizure in the middle of our ED. Not after everything.”

She leaned into your touch, eyes squeezing shut. That small surrender undid you. You pulled her in, wrapping your arms around her the way you had earlier in the trauma bay. Her arms came around you tightly, face buried against your neck. You felt the way she trembled, the way she tried to hold it together and failed. You rubbed slow circles between her shoulder blades, breathing her in.

“I’m scared,” she whispered against your skin, so quietly you almost missed it.

“I know.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than you should have. “Me too. But you’re not doing this alone. Not while I’m here.”

You held her until the worst of the shaking eased, then gently eased back. Your hands stayed on her arms for a moment, grounding. Part of you wanted to push—wanted to tell her to come home with you, to not be alone after a day like this. But the other part, the one still carrying the scar from when she’d been the one to walk away, held you back.

You cleared your throat softly.

“I’ll follow you home,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Make sure you get there okay. Then you should rest.”

Baran searched your face, something unreadable flickering in her eyes maybe surprise, maybe relief, maybe disappointment. She didn’t argue. Just nodded once.

The drive was short and quiet. You kept close the whole way, hands tight on the wheel. When she pulled into the driveway of a modest house a few miles from the hospital, you parked behind her and waited while she got out.

She walked back to your window. You rolled it down, the cool night air rushing in.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For today. For… everything.”

You gave her a small, tired smile. “Anytime. Get some sleep, Baran. And call your neurologist again first thing. If you need anything, anything at all you know where to find me.”

She lingered by the car for a second, fingers brushing the edge of your window like she might say more. But she didn’t. She just nodded, that familiar guarded look settling back over her features.

“Goodnight,” she murmured.

You watched her walk inside, waited until the lights came on and the door shut behind her. Only then did you pull away, the quiet hum of your engine the only sound as you drove off into the night.

You kept some distance tonight. You gave her the space and the choice to come to you this time. After all, she was the one who had ended things before. You weren’t going to be the one pushing for more than the fragile pieces you’d reclaimed today. Not yet.

☤⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The drive home blurred by in a haze of streetlights and quiet streets. You kept the radio off, the silence louder than any siren from the shift. By the time you pulled into your penthouse building, your hands were aching from how tightly you’d gripped the wheel.

Inside, you moved on autopilot keys on the hook, bag dropped by the door, scrubs peeled off and left in a trail toward the bathroom. The shower hissed to life, steam filling the small space almost instantly. You stepped under the hot spray, letting the water beat down on your shoulders, your neck, your face.

For a minute, maybe two, you just stood there. Letting it wash away the sweat, the antiseptic smell, the ghost of Baran’s shampoo still clinging to your tank top from the hug in the garage.

Then it hit.

A sob tore out of you without warning. It was raw, ugly, the kind you’d swallowed all day while running the pit, reassuring residents, staring down Robby, holding Baran together in that trauma bay and the parking garage. You pressed your forehead against the cool tile, shoulders shaking as the tears came hard and fast, mixing with the water streaming down your cheeks.

“Fuck,” you choked out, voice breaking. “Fuck, Baran…”

You missed her. God, you missed her with a bone-deep ache that no amount of professional distance could touch. You wanted her to be yours again the way she had been overseas, when the world was simpler and smaller and narrowed down to the two of you between mortar fire and saving lives. Back then it had felt inevitable. Her laugh in the dark, her hand finding yours in the dust, the way she looked at you like you were the only steady thing in the chaos.

You wanted that back. The easy intimacy. The certainty.

But here, in Pittsburgh, outside the warzone… everything was complicated. The hospital politics. Her surgery and the seizures that still haunted her. The way she’d been the one to end things last time, leaving you with wounds that had never fully closed. You’d held it together all day cool, steady, professional, but now, alone under the scalding water, the dam broke.

You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the shower floor, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around yourself as the sobs kept coming. You wanted her here. Wanted to pull her into this shower with you, wanted to kiss the fear out of her eyes and tell her you’d fight the whole damn world to keep her safe and steady. But you hadn’t pushed. You’d dropped her off. Given her the choice this time.

Because she was the one who walked away before.

The water eventually started to run cold, but you stayed there a while longer, letting the tears exhaust themselves. When you finally stood up, legs shaky, you shut off the faucet and pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes.

“Get it together,” you whispered to the empty bathroom, voice hoarse.

Tomorrow was another day in the ED. Another day of pretending the history between you was just background noise. Another day of giving Baran the space to decide if she wanted to cross that line again.

You have on a new black bra with pink peaking through, your black lace thong showing as your legs stay up.

Your black Louboutins glint in the light, catching her attention. Baran’s eyes move down from your heels to your body, then back to your face.

You were sin galore to her.

You smirk and lean on your left side, allowing Baran to get a good look at you. “Hi, baby.” You tease, your eyes gleaming at the sight of her.

Baran’s lips curve into a smile before she giggles, “How’s my pretty girl doing?” Her tone is smooth like honey, drizzling all over your skin and down to your pussy.

Resting your hand on your thigh, your fingertips rub up and down your hipbone, making sure her eyes recognize that.

“I could be better, need you here, in bed with me.” You complain, Baran licks her bottom lip and laughs again. “I miss you more, miss your scent, your smile, your lips, your thighs squeezing every inch of my body.” She whispers the last part, you hum and hook the hem of your thong, stretching it up.

Baran shakes her head while biting her bottom lip.

“Think I miss you more, baby. This bed is so lonely without you.” You sigh and stretch yourself on the bed, purposely making the thong slide down a little.

Baran gulps and rubs her lips, missing the way she stuffed her face against your pussy. The tip of her tongue curling up in your hole as her lips suck hard over your folds. She missed her favorite meal so much.

Her eyes squint as her brows furrow, seeing the black ink on your skin. “Wait.” She pauses, you look at it in the camera, and giggle.

Pushing your hip back and forth as you laugh again.

“You see it now?” You question, and your index finger rubs it gently.

Baran nods, “Fuck, baby, when did you get it done? It looks so sexy on you.” She whispers, her breath shortening as she stares at it longer.

“A week ago, honestly, it was kinda impulsive. I mean, I did always want a tattoo, you know that, but I guess placement-wise, I wasn’t sure.” You shrug, and Baran bites her lip, still staring at the tattoo, her body feeling hot from the sight.

“Perfect place to put it.” She whispers, reading off the ‘bite me’ words and imagining herself tracing her fingers over the tattoo as she fucks you with her strap.

You smile wider and drag your thong further down to your knees, keeping it there.

Baran moves her fingers to her bra straps, letting one drop to her arm, her breast ready to spill out of her bra.

“So, how’s California treating you?” You ask, ignoring the small whimpers that leave her mouth as you make your thong reach to your heels, letting it get somewhat tangled against it before taking it off and tossing it on the ground.

Baran’s heart races as her hands move her bra strap off fully, turning the bra around to see the hooks better. She takes it off and places it beside her on the bed. “It’s been good, would be so much better with you here. Missed waking you up with my kisses.” Baran licks her lips as you sit facing the computer, your back pressing the headboard, as your pillow has been pushed against the back of your waist.

Your legs had been spread open, and your knees pushed up to the sides of your stomach, your stretch marks showing better. The glisten on your pussy appears on camera as your fingers go over to your clit, tapping on it before your middle finger rubs it slowly.

Clearing her throat, she sighs and watches you while bringing her fingers up to her nipples, squeezing and twisting them a little.

“You’ve been such a bad, bad girl for me, baby.” Baran breathily states, her eyes widen a little at the way you insert your ring and middle finger in your dripping cunt. Your lips pressed against your curled fingers as you pump them inside you.

You whimper and sigh, biting your bottom lip as you groan. “Yeah?” You let out, still going.

Baran licks her lips and nods, “Yeah.” Eyes staring at the way you keep your fingers curved, stretching yourself out.

“Slow down, baby, need to see that pretty pussy aching.” She whispers while teasing her nipples, her cunt dripping for attention.

You whine and slow your thrusts, your soft walls squeezing your fingers for more.

You watch as Baran places her computer at the end of the bed, coming out from under the sheets, she’s now only in her panties, looking so beautiful in the way they ride up on her ass.

Turning her body to the left, Baran opens the bedside drawer and pulls her vibrator out, checking the charge.

You smile while your thumb flicks at your clit a little. You let out whimpers and stare at Baran as she takes her panties off and keeps her legs open in front of the camera, mirroring your position.

The low sounds of her vibrator being turned on make her cunt pulsate hard as her mouth salivates at the sight of you and her.

“Need your pretty body so bad, baby, look at what you do to me.” Baran moans as she places her vibrator against her folds, brushing it up to her clit and squirming a little. “Fuck.” You both say in unison. 

Whines take over from both of you as you slide your fingers back in and out of your twitched pussy.

“Baran, baby.” You whine and lean your head back, your fingers hit your g-spot, and your legs begin to shake. 

Baran moans and sighs as she pushes her vibrator against her pussy, visualizing your lips sucking her folds like the good girl you are.

“That’s it, pretty girl, like that, touch yourself just like that.” She pants out, and her free hand grabs her breast, squeezing it.

“Mngh– so cl-close.” You stutter out, thrusting deeper into yourself. Baran closes her eyes and breathes out heavily.

“That’s okay, baby, I’m right here.” She gasps, driving her vibrator up and down, her arousal soaking the device and bedsheets.

You roll your hips up, and Baran does the same, moaning at the same time as you. “Shit, that was sexy.” She chuckles, sweat appearing on her forehead.

You open your eyes and look at her, seeing the way she keeps pushing her hips up, her pussy soaked.

You nod and swallow down your saliva hard. “Yeah.” You let out breathlessly.

“Look at yourself in the camera, see how pretty you are.” Baran coos, her tone making your legs shake, almost closing. “Yeah.” Being the only word you can get out.

The built-up feeling in your stomach comes back, harder now. “Shit, Baran.” You whine and ride your fingers out.

The ache in them became stronger, but you were so close.

She sees it in your face, Baran nods and lazily rubs her vibrator over her clit. “Such a good girl for me, look at you, all fucked out.”

You squeal as you pull your fingers out, only to shove them back in, mimicking Baran’s thrusts. You weep out moans and whimpers, Baran’s eyes darker at the sight as her body jerks forward many times.

You’re covered in sweat as you do one last thrust into yourself, your cum spilling out from your pretty pussy. Your fingers are covered, and so are the bedsheets.

Baran squirms and squeezes her legs at the sight. “Oh fuck!” She moans and rides her vibrator.

“Shit, baby, you make me feel so good.” Baran moans out as she orgasms, her pace getting slower. Your fingers still deep inside your hole, you lay your head against the headboard. 

Your eyes stare at the ceiling, finally reaching the peak you’ve been dreaming about ever since Baran left. 

Baran slows down and looks at you, admiring the way your cum spills out of you. Wishing she could suck it up and tongue it back into your hole.

“Damn.” She says breathlessly. You blink a couple of times and look back at her on the computer.

You laugh with her and sigh. Seeing the way her cum covers her, her clit swollen, deserving of being sucked at.

“So beautiful, so so beautiful. I can’t wait to get home.” Baran rasps, and you smile shyly.

“Me too, we should do more of this.” You state, covering yourself with the bedsheets, feeling cold now. Baran nods and licks her lips, “Promise, we definitely will in the near future.” You laugh with her and blow her a kiss.

“Later, baby.” You respond, and she blows you a kiss back. “Love you.” Baran finishes and ends the call.

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“you’re an R2 now, you can take patients by yourself.”

you sigh, crossing your arms as you stand opposite cassie. the corners of her lips are lifted in a small smile as she nods her head toward trauma three, where your newest patient is waiting. 24-year-old blue collar worker who was exterminating under a house when the crawlspace collapsed in on him. blunt trauma to the head is extremely likely, his lungs aren’t in much better condition, and there’s certainly other injuries that are awaiting your assessment.

“it just feels weird, i mean, you were there all last year-”

“i know. i’ll be here if you have any questions, but you’ve gotta leave the nest at some point, yeah?”

you sigh, giving a nod, and cassie whispers an encouraging “go.”

you pad over to trauma one, knocking on the door before introducing yourself. the man is awake and responsive despite his condition, even trying to smile at you. a tough one, you think. he’s covered in dust and debris, as well as gashes and wood lodged into any bits of exposed skin. thankfully, he was wearing protective gear on the job, so his state is a lot better than it could’ve been. he’ll make it, so long as you do your job right.

you order morphine through a drip, then page for dr. garcia to ask for further instruction. never remove a foreign body, you remember cassie telling you. leave that to surgery. call garcia, and she’ll decide what to do from there.

“you’re in good hands,” you tell the man- thomas, you’ve learned from his record- giving the most encouraging smile you can. “we’re gonna perform a minor operation to get the wood out of you, then disinfect your wounds and clean out your lungs. you should be out of here by the end of the week.”

“thank you,” he says, and you nod once again as you finalize the order. dr. garcia exchanges glances with you before she assesses the situation, and you head out to report back to cassie.

no longer dr. mckay, cassie.

“he’s doing well. good vitals aside from shallow breathing, but that’s to be expected. some wood lodged into his ankles and neck, no major arteries impacted, and i’m waiting for further instruction from garcia.”

“good,” she affirms, and you feel something light up within you.

the relationship between you and your attending is.. complicated. both of you keep it professional within the walls of pittsburgh trauma medical center, not wanting to ring any alarm bells for any of your colleagues. not wanting to start a messy situation that results in someone losing their job, or worse, a lawsuit. 

outside of the pitt, though, you’re close. that’s the easiest way you think you can put it. you’re good friends, finding common ground in music taste, your favorite books, and sense of humor. you find cassie incredibly fascinating, considering she seems to have lived several lives in just one- and she finds you promising. a bright student, an excellent doctor. empathetic, with a strong sense of discipline. 

the fact that you look up to her goes without saying. she’s older, more experienced, and has overcome a lot to be where she is in her career. she’s incredibly humble, nonetheless, and you only hope that one day you can boast the same way about your own life.

the two of you have vowed to speak about work as little as possible outside of it. you see enough in the emergency room, you don’t want to dwell on the devastating reality of your job for any longer than you have to. you spend more time at her apartment than you do yours, flirting over takeout and downing wine together like you get paid to do it.

you’re not quite lovers, though. very close friends, as cassie puts it. you started hooking up about three months into this friendship, and two months after that, you asked her the fateful “what are we?”

and cassie sighed, smoothing her auburn hair back with a heavy sigh. “i’m not saying you’re not worth committing to, because you are,” she said, lips pulling into a thin line. “but i’ve just got so much shit going on in my life right now, i’d feel bad roping you in. between this damn custody battle and the restraining order and trying to keep myself out of trouble.. it just wouldn’t be fair, you know?”

you do know. despite cassie telling you that you’d make a great girlfriend and almost treating you like you’re actually hers. and as much as you want something more with cassie, you’re aware of the workplace policies. you’re aware of the importance of your education and career above all else, so you affirmed what she said and told her it’s best to keep things the way they are. it’s been pretty easy, actually, and you’re happy with the arrangement you have.

but fuck, when cassie looks at you with those warm eyes and tells you, “you did a good job. he’s in good hands, keep it up.”

you want to jump her bones. 

instead, you muster a quiet, “thanks,” before she leads you back into the room to get started on working on thomas. 

you’re good at turning off your personal feelings and urges. you have to be in order to get anywhere in the medical field. but the aching for her lingers in the back of your mind, festering there because you have no time to quell it otherwise.

on a slow day, you’d excuse yourself to the staff bathroom and plunge your fingers inside yourself while clapping your other hand over your mouth. making futile attempts to get yourself off, when you know cassie manages to do it so much better for you.

“scalpel, prepare saline.”

“heard,” you put a sterile pad on top of your tray and get to work preparing the supplies as thomas waits, the iv drip working to put more color to his complexion.

all you need to do is get through this shift.

you offered cassie a ride home from work. you ended up getting out later than expected, and considering her legal battles, it’s been difficult for her to find the money for a car. you double-parked outside of her townhouse, giving her a little smile and wave, but the woman furrowed her brows in feigned offense. “you’re not gonna come in?”

that’s how you wound up on her bed.

just light chatter at first. her tossing her head back in laughter, a magical sound, her loose hair falling over her shoulders. she’s stunning. 

“fuck, you can’t say that,” she gasps, but her smile betrays her. you laugh along with her.

“what? i’m just saying what nobody else will.”

“you’re gonna have to repeat your residency if you keep this up,” the woman playfully shoves your shoulder, which just makes you laugh even harder. 

“alright, i’ll cut it out,” you resign. “only cause you’re so gorgeous.”

her brows raise, and the corner of her mouth tilts up in a little smirk. 

“oh, flattering me now, huh?”

you shake your head, inching closer to her as you feel the air thicken between you. your heartbeat starts to pick up, your mouth goes dry, but you still muster a playful smile to mirror hers. 

“not flattering. just being honest.”

“you’re dangerous,” cassie whispers, voice low and husky, and without a moment’s notice, she closes the distance.

it starts off slow, sweet even. her lips moving against yours in a steady rhythm, an addicting ebb and flow. your hand finds the nape of her neck, tangling in soft locks as her hands creep underneath your shirt to find your waist. her cold, calloused fingertips make you gasp against her mouth, and cassie’s tongue slots between your lips.

slowly, she lays you back on the bed, crawling on top of you as you let out little sighs and hums against her mouth. she breaks loose for one second to tug your top over your head, smiling as soft tits spill out, then connecting your lips once more.

she leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, then down to your neck before forming a seal and suckling. her teeth lightly nip at the skin, causing you to jump and shiver, and she just smiles against you. cassie’s hot tongue soothes blooming hickeys that you’ll undoubtedly have to scramble to cover up at work tomorrow. 

“you want this?” she breathes out, as if you’d ever say no to her. you nod frantically, and you feel her chuckle against your throat.

“there she is.”

cassie pulls her own top up and over her head, revealing the scarred skin you adore so vocally. she unclasps her bra, and you swear the sight never grows old. plump. heavy. perfect size for your hands. 

something tells you, though, that she won’t be the one being taken care of tonight.

your suspicions are all but confirmed when she kisses down your torso, starting at your collarbones, pressing her slightly-chapped lips to your tits and taking one of your nipples into her mouth. suckling as she starts to massage the other one, pinching and rolling the nipple with her finger and thumb. just that makes you whine.

she laughs lowly against your breast as she swirls her tongue around the bud, making you start squirming underneath her and your breath quicken. it really can get to be embarrassing, how needy you get for the other doctor- but how can you not be, when she can read you cover to cover? when she can please you this fucking well?

“so pretty..”

cassie releases your nipple with a wet ‘pop’ before descending down the valley between your breasts, your stomach, right to your pubic bone where she hooks her fingers into the waistline of your pants. she looks up at you with expectant eyes, a silent request for permission.

“yes,” you breathe out. “please.”

she scoffs in mild amusement before pulling them off and discarding them to some unknown corner of her room. her eyes widen the slightest bit as she looks at the damp patch on your panties, clear as day. her middle and ring finger find your clit through the thin cotton, rubbing over your clit and making you squeal.

“you’re already so wet,” she murmurs. “did i do that, baby?”

“mhm, can’t help it..”

she huffs and shakes her head, clicking her tongue as she rubs in slow, mean circles. your hips start to roll against her hand, but she pulls her hand away as quickly as it was there.

“uh-uh.” cassie reprimands. “flip over. ass up. panties off, get yourself ready.” she pats your thigh twice, her voice taking on a more commanding tone that makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“i’ll be right back.”

you could scream. you’re so worked up already, why does the woman have to be so mean? it’s clear as day how bad you want this- want her, yet you know that’s part of the thrill.

cassie might enjoy testing your patience, but she’ll always give you what you need in the end.

so you roll over and scoot closer to the edge of bed, getting onto your hands and knees as you hear the rustling of her digging through drawers and the clinking of metal. your hand trails down your body, past curls above your clit, then sink deep inside you. you’re damn near dripping onto your inner thighs already.

you dip two fingers deep inside, scissoring them inside of you and letting out helpless little mewls. it feels good, but not as good as cassie’s fingers do. you feel weak. useless, almost. the woman has thoroughly broken you in, rendering you only capable of pleasure by her hands.

then you hear the zipper of her jeans going down, and she pads back over to you within seconds, rough hands smoothing over your ass. deceivingly sweet.

pussy glistening in the light, back arched so prettily, all for cassie. she chuckles lowly to herself as she watches your fingers go in and out, thoroughly soaked in your arousal, before one of her hands closes around your wrist.

“alright, enough. you’re ready.”

you whine, but retract your hand and immediately feel the fat head of her strap pressing against you. teasing, not quite going in yet, you can already tell it’s going to be difficult to take this. a shiver runs up your spine.

“please,” you breathe out, and cassie chuckles yet again.

“jeez, didn’t know you were that needy..”

regardless, she starts to press in. feeding you inch by inch and giving you the burning sensation of being stretched, you let out a choked moan. she’s not even halfway inside.

you start to grip the sheets as she goes in further and further until the woman is bottomed out, thick cock buried deep inside you. cassie doesn’t give you a minute to breathe before she starts moving, and you gasp like the air’s been punched from your lungs.

“fuck- ah!”

“yeah, that’s it,” she breathes out, hands settling on your hips and tugging your ass impossibly closer. “shit, you’re a wreck.”

cassie pulls out halfway, then slams back in, then repeats again and again. fucking you at an animalistic pace as her rough fingers dig into the fat of your hips, tugging you closer to her, letting out low grunts.

every time the plastic tip kisses your cervix sends you closer to oblivion as lewd noises spill from your lips. “ngh- please, more, fuck-”

“more?” she laughs, slamming into you even harder somehow with a pause for emphasis. “greedy fuckin’ girl.. it’s okay, i love it.”

cassie drills into you, your walls fluttering around her thick cock and your nails near tearing through her sheets now. she grabs a fistfull of your hair and you yelp at the harsh sting, yet it hurts so goddamn good.

“ungh- shhhiiiit,” you cry, and cassie’s free hand comes down on your ass before grabbing hold of it yet again.

all that’s audible is the slap of her hips against the plush of your ass, strings of moans and grunts from the both of you, and the obscene squelching noise of your sopping cunt. 

you’re too far-gone for words at this point. it’s like your brain has been wiped clean if only for a moment, and your ears stuffed with cotton.

“awh,” cassie coos, voice full of mock-sympathy as she pistons into you again and again. “my smart girl, all dumb when she gets dick.”

you can’t even argue. you just nod with all the energy you have, weakly pushing your hips back to meet hers in a desperate attempt for more. she lets go of your hair only to push your head into the pillow with her iron grip, slightly muffling your moans.

from where your head is, you can see the slightest glimpses of her. messy bangs stuck to her sweat-coated forehead, her pretty lips parted, her heavy tits bouncing with every thrust. cassie’s lips sinking into her bottom lip as she looks between your legs- strap coated with your arousal, cunt throbbing and gushing all for her.

an absolute visionary. a piece of living art.

she swats at your ass again, making you squeal out and whimper.

“that’s alright,” she breathes out. “i’ll just think for ya, huh? yeah? this what you needed, dirty girl?”

you nod once more, and cassie scoffs. you feel yourself climbing higher, the familiar knot in your lower stomach forming. coiling tighter and tighter, so fucking close yet so far- cassie knows your body like no other, and her hand moves from your ass to between your legs, landing two fingers on your swollen clit to rub quick circles. 

you near scream, cassie folding over you and grunting into your ear, feeling her breasts push against your back. “you gonna cum? already?”

“yes-” you gasp. “yesyes-”

her fingers press down the slightest bit harder, and you shatter.

white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins as you scream, pussy spasming around her cock and leaking onto the bedsheets. she fucks you through it, rocking into you with harsh groans- like she’s the one being fucked. 

you swear, your ears start ringing for a second.

“there it is,” she encourages. “that’s it, gettin’ all over the place.. you love this, huh? love it when i turn that pretty little brain off, sweet thing?” you nod weakly, frantically, your breath and words failing you. “yes, yes-”

slowly, cassie’s pace comes to a winding halt. she delivers a last few firm thrusts before pulling out, silicone fully coated in sticky cum. she huffs in amusement. 

you let your fingers loosen from the bedsheets as your breath slowly evens out, and cassie unbuckles the harness from her hips.

“..you okay?”

her voice has switched from the dominant woman that was just rearranging your guts to the sweet, caring woman you became close with. you nod weakly against the pillow, and cassie giggles. she smooths her hair back, grabbing a half-empty water bottle off her nightstand and taking a swig from it. then gestures for you to sit up.

your limbs feel like jello, your mind is still catching up to you. but you maneuver yourself into a sitting position, and cassie presses the tip of the bottle to your lips. you take gentle, steady swigs from the bottle until the plastic is crinkled up and empty.

“there you go,” she murmurs. “feeling okay?”

“more than okay. that was.. wow.”

she huffs and laughs, shaking her head. “wow is right. you were great too, for the record.”

“didn’t know there was a record.”

“there’s not. i’m just saying.”

you smile and playfully elbow your side, cassie gasping as if she’s been fatally wounded. “i know. i’m messing with you.”

cassie rolls her eyes before draping one arm around your shoulders, coaxing you to lay down on the bed beside her. purposely avoiding the wet spot you’ve left, you curl into the warmth the older woman offers and sigh. her arms are a safe heaven. her lips brush against your forehead, and you press a chaste kiss to her collarbone.

“you’re warm..”

“am i? i’m usually told i’m cold..”

you shake your head weakly against her. all fourteen hours you worked are seeming to catch up to you at the same time, weighing down your eyelids and lacing your voice with exhaustion. you snuggle up closer to cassie, and her free arm wraps around you. fingernails lightly scrape your spine, up and down, making your eyes all but flutter shut.

she sees your weary expression, and isn’t feeling much better herself. she’d feel awful, though, if she just let you go to sleep like this. so she gently shakes your shoulder, and a groan escapes you.

“come on, honey. we should get you cleaned up.”

“fuck that,” you grumble. “just wanna sleep.”

cassie’s instinct is to argue. to insist. that’s the doctor in her- but cassie herself understands perfectly well, and vows to get you properly taken care of before you head to work in the morning.

“okay. i hear ya.” she presses another chaste kiss to your forehead, before letting her own eyes slip shut.

“Hey, D.” You approached the central nurses’ station from the ambulance bay, a tray of coffees in one hand and a light-blue athletic jacket in the other. “You know where Baran is?”

“Why are you here?” The charge nurse asked in lieu of an answer, appraising your jeans and sweater over the bridge of her glasses.

“Baran lent me her jacket after the whole cric fiasco, so I thought I’d return it to her.” You held up the article of clothing like it was evidence and set the drink tray on the counter.

“Al-Hashimi,” Dana pointedly corrected, a lilt of teasing in her voice, “is in south 15 treating a patient, doing her job. You ever heard of that, Barbie?”

“Ouch.” You clutched your chest with mock offense before holding out a cup for her to take. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

Dana’s stare sobered and softened slightly as she accepted the drink and took a sip, letting out a hum of approval when she tasted her usual order.

“So you came all the way down here on your day off just to return a jacket?” Dana raised a brow, not bothering to hid her disbelief, and you couldn’t blame her.

If it were anybody else’s jacket, you would’ve just held onto it until your next emergency consult, and who knew when that would be. No, actually, you wouldn’t have even done that. If it had been anybody else, you would have just given the jacket to Walsh or Garcia, or even Shamsi, and had them to return it for you.

Yet, here you were, on your rare day off, bringing coffee for people, all to return Baran’s jacket.

Baran.

You had only interacted with the woman twice but there was something about her that piqued your interest. Obviously she was attractive, there was no questioning that, and she was clearly more than competent to run the ED, seeing as the department was no longer one breakdown away from complete collapse. But there was something else, something more, that caught your attention.

Whether it was the way she carried herself with a composed air of compassion, or the fact that she didn’t back down from your flirtatious quips, or how her big brown eyes practically bore into your soul every time she looked your way, you weren’t sure. But whatever it was, it had you down in the emergency department at 7 am with the hopes of speaking with her again.

You couldn’t exactly tell Dana all of that, though based on the look she was wearing, you had a feeling she already knew.

Before you could explain why you were really here, the woman in question approached you, her soothing voice cutting through all the chaos.

“Doctor—” the syllables of your last name rolled off Baran’s tongue with ease, causing your insides to coil— “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I wanted to give this back to you.” You held up her jacket before pushing the tray now holding only two cups in her direction. “I also come bearing caffeine.”

“Oh, thank you.” Baran smiled, pleasantly surprised, as she took the jacket from you. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here just to return this.”

She noticed you weren’t in your scrubs, your autumn outfit making you look softer than usual.

“I wanted to see you.” Your lips curled up into a grin, and Baran clung to the trace of earnestness in your voice.

Then, as if to play it off, you shrugged and added, “I had to pick something else up anyways.”

Baran’s eyes narrowed barely, but before she could ask further, Emery Walsh ambled up to the station. “So I’m a thing now?”

“Finally,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you plucked the cup of coffee labeled “DC” out of the tray and handed it to the other surgeon. “You usually take this long to do a routine cholecystectomy?”

“Just trying to match your speed, Spook,” Emery retorted, taking a sip of the drink before scowling. “What the fuck is this decaf shit?”

“You have a problem.” You shot her a glare, one that told her you knew about her personal consultation with cardio a couple weeks ago. “You can get order whatever you want at breakfast. My treat.”

“You spoil me,” Emery snarked as she downed the rest of the coffee.

Baran watched the interaction with an itchy feeling creeping up her spine. She couldn’t tell whether this was just another instance of you being naturally flirtatious or if you and Emery were going on a breakfast date. After all, you had come all this way on your day off just to pick up the surgeon. Either way, Baran felt a pool of envy twist in her gut.

“I should get back to my patients,” she excused herself with a tight smile. “Thank you for returning my jacket.”

Sensing the shift in the other woman, her expression more tense and posture more rigid, you softened. “Wait.”

Baran paused, turning slightly on her heels as you grabbed the last paper cup from the tray and held it out for her.

“This is for you.”

As Baran reached out to accept the drink, her fingers brushed against yours, the slight contact sending a jolt straight to her chest.

“Your usual.”

When she raised a questioning brow, you chuckled awkwardly. “I asked around.”

Baran couldn’t help the amused glint in her eye at the sight of the faint blush dusting your cheeks. There wasn’t enough time to figure out the whiplash of emotions she had just experienced in the last five minutes, so Baran simply raised her cup.

“Thank you,” she said your name fondly. “I hope to see you around.”

“Likewise,” you replied, a satisfied smirk creeping back onto your lips.

Nodding, Baran turned on her heels and disappeared into the chaos of the emergency department. Your eyes followed her retreating figure, admiring the curves and angles of her movements, committing them to memory.

“You’re drooling.” Emery’s deadpan voice interrupted your trance.

You slapped her hand away from your face, earning a laugh from her. “Shut up,” you grumbled.

“I see Yoyo wasn’t lying.”

“About what?” You frowned at the idea of your two friends talking about you. The three of you had a friendship where if two of you were talking about the third behind their back, it was usually out of concern. While that concern did manifest itself in the form of snippy, sarcastic comments, it was still concern nonetheless.

“You have a crush,” Emery sang with a teasing grin.

“What? No, I don’t,” you refused quickly, too quickly, which Emery noticed, her grin widening even more.

“You returned her jacket,” Emery noted.

“After she lent it to me,” you countered, but the other surgeon ignored you.

“On your day off,” she finished with a pointed look.

“And—” she held up her hand to silence whatever argument you had ready— “you brought her coffee, her usual at that.”

Emery wiggled her brows suggestively.

“I brought you coffee,” you argued teasingly.

“Yeah, but decaf,” she said it like a curse word.

“Because you’re a bitch,” you quipped, and Emery let out a hearty chuckle.

“What are you two still doing here?” Dana’s Yinzer accent interrupted your bantering as she reentered the nurses’ station. “Go talk about Barbie’s crush somewhere else,” she said, having clearly heard enough of the conversation.

“Not a crush,” you corrected, grabbing the empty drink tray from the counter with one hand and pulling Emery’s elbow with the other.

“Okay, lover girl,” Dana muttered under her breath, shaking her head at you and Emery, as the two of you continued to bicker on your way out.

From across the department, standing at a computer, Baran watched the entire exchange with narrow eyes. While she couldn’t hear the words you and the other surgeon were exchanging, to anyone with eyes it looked like flirting, and based on the little she knew about you, she’d take one guess to say that’s what was happening. You and Emery seemed to interact with an ease and familiarity, and Baran couldn’t help but wonder what kind of history was there.

As her eyes followed you out the door, she took a sip of the drink you had given her. The familiar flavors of Assam tea with a splash of milk and just a dash of sugar hit her tongue, and yet it tasted warmer, sweeter, as if somehow the fact that you went out of your way to find out her order changed the taste.

“Hey, doc,” Dana’s voice snapped her back to the moment. “Labs are back on South 15, and we got an ambulance ten minutes out. Girl with a failed epi-pen”

Baran inhaled sharply and straightened her posture. “Thanks, Dana,” she said, taking the tablet from the nurse to scan the lab results.

As she moved to go check on her patient, her half-full paper cup still sitting on the desk, Dana interjected with a knowing smirk, “Don’t throw that away. Looks like it’s got some important information on it.”

Baran frowned, but before she could ask, the other woman was already walking away. Turning around, Baran picked up the cup and rotated it. As the sleeve slid down an inch, she finally noticed a line of digits scribbled on the cup and she knew it could only be one thing.

baran batted her eyes at you with a playful smile. 

mature today, honed over the years. it was wider then, sharp teeth and all, jubilance waning over the treacherous months of senior year. 

you stared back with vigor, quaintly robust in the wee hours of the night, silently requesting again, cautious about who’s in on the secret.

“i thought you’d never ask,” she frisked, disappearing into the main suite, sighing as the click of the door locked. the shuffling through her tote bag rang through the room, turning her head at you for a second as you settled at the doorframe, aware it would take her a while. 

“aha!”

baran whipped out a half-burnt stick with a proud look on her face, throwing you the lighter, retrieving it from the ziplock. she unlocked the bay window and jumped on the other side of the wall. you followed, laughing in amusement. 

it’s two-something in the morning and you’re supposed to be asleep for the move out tomorrow. instead you both post-watched a shitty movie with a marinated skincare, indulging in a bad not-so-habit, originating from those days in college. 

past tense. as if you’ve already graduated. 

it’s surreal getting something you’ve anticipated for as long as you remember, finally on the way to your lap, the days compressed into one singular moment. 

you closed the bay halfway and passed the lighter to baran who immediately lit the stick, puffing out smoke with puckered lips, the outline of her face illuminated by the flicker. you grin when she sucked at the stick, warmth and satisfaction spreading through your chest. she fluttered her eyelashes as she passed it to you, fingers brushing at a familiar pace. 

you inhaled, lips wrapped around the stick, taking you there. you exhaled out, humming, missing the smell of the drug. 

“i’ve been meaning to steal you from them since after dinner, but i knew diego would be looking for you,” you admitted.

baran kept silent. 

it’s obvious, you both know this, that they both want each other. you don’t know what’s holding them back. 

you met baran the summer before junior year, daisy duked to the nines, president of center of medical futures, the highest donated college organization of your university. she showed up to the pool party with her friends, mingling around the area, leaving her to your care. 

you wanted her the moment you met her. and her the same, or so you thought. batted doe eyes and a touch on your arm here and there, wishing she could see you wet in the pool. it turned out she didn’t swerve that way, blabbing about a sweet guy named jeremy and why they’re most likely to work out in the long run. “he’s pretty okay with my busy schedule,” she quoted. 

somehow it always ends with a man, you think, her silence and/or your hope. baran is a natural at giving people that, hence, you’re certain she’ll be an amazing doctor. 

there’s nothing much to talk about but allowing the silence to linger. you’re still buzzed from the numerous shots from dinner, the exhaustion of cosplaying as nomads for the entire day in the city for the last time, the wee hours of the night, and the growing tension between you and your next step as a graduate. 

it’s surreally confusing. 

you might never see baran again. 

or you might, but it’ll never be the same. 

but it hasn’t been the same, not really, not since the group’s second vacation together, both crammed in the lower bunk bed, a small cabin rented a few miles away from the sequoia national park, roommates by choice. you struggled to bring yourself to the upper bunk, drunk off your bones. baran couldn’t prop you up either, so as a result, you ended up giggling at each other—two girls who can’t keep their hands off each other—the brunette ultimately finding her way on top of you. straddling your lap all the while steadying your posture, drunk with liquor and merit. 

“you always smelled so good,” she whispered like it’s a secret unburied. you sniffed yourself; then her. she giggled.  

“i did it for you,” you quipped. 

baran grinned, bunny teeth on full display. she hugged you close, burying her face in your neck for a second before coming up for air. 

“i’m so happy you’re my best friend,” she said. 

which is kind of unfair. 

because then she pecked your lips and thought you can’t kiss her back. 

you don’t, too stunned at the drunken gesture, which is why you’re still here; a best friend, wasted with a shared stick between fingers. it’s better than nothing. this is better than a sobering confrontation and a great divide. this way you can coat her saliva with your own and drag it to your lungs, eventually sending it away with the lingering feeling you’ve learned to tame over the years. 

“how many kids do you want?”

she laughed quietly. you both share the same ache for motherhood. in a decade or so you’d finally master how to raise a child of your own, pumped with passion and worry. 

“right now? none,” baran sucked in a breath, “i refuse to contribute to SIDS,” she responded, eyes trained in the abyss. 

you chuckled. 

“but seriously?” 

she straightened her posture, in her thinking pose, “two. four max,” deciding with finality. and then, after a pause, laughed, shaking her head in amusement. she presented a smile, sheepish and peculiar. 

you hummed. “t’was eight last time, correct?”

“i was having the time of my life then,” she conceded, taking the stick from you. 

“you’re not, today?” you asked, scanning her face and then landing on her curls. you wished to tangle your fingers through it. comfort her hidden troubles. 

baran nodded her head, looked around the backyard, and then finally met your gaze. 

exhausted and yet alive, she grazed her hand to yours. you shivered, her warm touch sparking the contrast of the cold in your surroundings. 

“with you i can think straight,” she started, “i know i can confide in you without fear of judgement,” bringing her lips to a thin smile, like this acknowledgement is the brink of her collapse. “i’m your practical friend…”

“my most practical, genuine, genius, best friend, yes,” she exclaimed, moaning as you snatched the stick back. “i didn’t even–!”

“who i occasionally do crimes with,” you cutted her off, dragging a puff. 

she tamed. “you? still 10?”

you hummed. 

“i want a loud house,” you declared, gesticulating a wide space. 

baran deadpanned, “you want 10 children to take care of you.”

nodding your head, you pinched her cheek, grinning as she squinted. “yes, i want 10 children to fight over my will,” you humored, passing her the remaining joint. 

silence enveloped the both of you, cocooned in the smoke of repose, mastering the familiarity of yourselves before the world tries to drain your character. 

the joint is almost done. three drags away. you’re about to lose her altogether. 

“i’ll get married one day,” you blurted out, eyes watering at the cold. the temperature dropped suddenly. you both shivered. 

“can i be the maid of honor?” baran asked, genuine, her pitch higher, childlike. 

you could have been more than that. 

you hummed, pretending to think, the string of words you curated coming out playful and calculated. “depends. would you stir my future wife in the right direction? influence the choosing of the ring for me?”

“wouldn’t she already know that then?” baran scoffed, “when she proposes, wouldn’t she know everything about you by then?” bewildered, ‘cause today she knows you more than your future spouse, and that was just unacceptable. 

you thought about it, but all you drew was a blank. you haven’t really thought that far, you just wanted to hear baran’s opinion. “i was only kidding. i guess if you win the nobel peace prize in the next five years…” you challenged, leaning your head further against the cement. 

“is that a bet?”

“yeah,” you uttered. 

baran took another drag, body fully relaxed. she pouted. 

“wouldn’t you want to give it to me because you want it for me? because you love me?”

you mimicked her doe-eyed stare, batting eyelashes, and deepening pout. your heart raced. 

“of course i love you,” you said, “you’re my best friend.”

“and your future maid of honor?” 

you shook your head. the grin was permanent there. you opened your palm and she handed you the stick, barely an inch. 

“i’ll think about it,”

the brunette made a sound of disapproval. “you and your stupid remarks,” she grumbled, brows furrowed. you moved a feet towards her, bumping her shoulder in provocation. “maybe when you get married first,” you decided. 

“hah!” baran exclaimed, as if you were saying a joke. then she frowned, crossing her arms together. “i don’t know if i’ll ever get to that point, to be honest.”

“still?”

“yeah it’s just…the world changes a lot i…i’m still learning about myself…”

you hummed. baran gets like this, unsteady in her declarations of devotion, an ever-changing channel of passion and persuasion, a lust for effect but a fear of commitment. she couldn’t be more beautiful than this, but then again, it seemed this is the final version of her you could know. 

“what have you learned so far?”

baran liked radiohead, how they were so abstract yet so personally in her. she was secretly training for the LA marathon as she waited for her acceptance at standford, nothing but anxiety and pride in her quivering bones. she was beginning to like pineapple on pizza after an italian woman fed her a slice with sexy bare hands. baran said she thinks her preferences have grown. 

your eyes widened. 

you posed a question, walking delicately through the subject, watching as she inched farther from you as the words left your mouth. 

“how are you navigating through that? liking girls?”

baran didn’t answer, mouth occupied, finishing the life of the stick. she dropped and stomped on it. 

“i don’t know yet,” she shrugged, tapping her foot on the ground. she combed through her hair, unable to meet your gaze. 

“i’m proud of you.”

for a minute, she didn’t move. she stayed stiffened in her stance. only her hair showed life, dancing with the wind. and then, her shoulders quivered. 

baran looked at you with water in her eyes. 

just like the first time she stared at you in need of acceptance, failing her physics test for the first time. 

or when jeremy ended things, unsure if he wanted to live his life on her terms. 

or when you surprised her with a birthday party, with everyone she loved dressed up as their favorite version of baran al-hashimi. 

you placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her for an embrace. it knocked her off-balance, and yet she held onto you, arms hooked in your armpits, digging her face in your neck as she does, mumbling her gratitude. you can’t pull away and face her, not yet, not when you’ve been waiting for this for so long. 

graduation is in two days. 

it seemed a little too late.