first, do no harm

samira huffed out a small breath that was almost a laugh,  one corner of her mouth curving upward.  ❝spiritual experience,  huh?❞ she said,  glancing down at her sneakers,  their edges now dusted with red earth.  ❝if that’s what this is,  i think i missed the memo that enlightenment comes with sore calves  &  questionable trail maps. ❞ there was humor in her voice — dry,  but not unkind.  she wasn’t built for this kind of quiet,  not really,  yet she could admit it was… nice.  strange,  but nice. 

for a few spare seconds,  she let her gaze drift toward him.  the sunlight caught in his hair,  the line of his jaw softened by warmth  &  distance.  he looked at ease in a way few people did — grounded,  unguarded —  &  it reminded her why she trusted him as much as she did.  not because he tried to fix things,  but because he never asked her to. 

jay h. ... ▇▇▇ they were going on a getaway. finally, they'd managed to get a few days off at the same time. it wasn't that neither of them hadn't had any vacations day to take for themselves, they had too many. it was just the fact that chicago had been a greedy woman lately, demanding more and more - taking and taking. from both their jobs, so it was turning into late night stolen kisses and sleepovers, that bled into early mornings and more long days. he was excited to get out for a while, just to be with the woman his heart had chosen to make a home with. and then the storm came, and she was a wild one. came along with hard rain - so much that the highway was vanishing before his eyes, and they'd both seen how that could end too many times, so they found a quick solution, far stretched from romantic, but a safe place where he could watch her get some rest until they could drive again.

the detective walks in, right after the love of his life. his hard chest brush against her back when she stops, and jay halstead is quick to sneak an arm around her, smiling as he presses his lips to the back of her head. " let's hope they've got rooms available - i'm not letting you sleep in the lobby, " he wouldn't have been all game for any lobby, but especially not this one that looks like a drug deal or two have gone down close by. looks like a place he'd be called out to at work, for a murder or two. " i feel like splurging, my treat. " aka, he was getting them a room for the entire night, just to make sure samira could actually sleep - even if the angry storm would calm its winds during the nighttime. " come on, pretty girl. i got you, " wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he walks to get them a room for the night, and no longer than that.

she huffed out a breath that could’ve been a laugh,  leaning back just enough to let his arm settle around her shoulders.  the contact was familiar — steady,  unhurried — but her gaze lingered on the rain outside,  tracing the way it blurred the highway lights into ribbons.  the place was a dive,  no question,  but it was quiet,   &  that was rare.  almost too rare.  she wasn’t used to this kind of stillness;  her body was trained for motion,  for the hum of monitors  &  clipped voices calling for instruments or blood draws.  even now,  part of her missed it — the rhythm of the er,  the pulse of purpose that threaded through every chaotic hour.  but jay had coaxed her out of chicago with that patient,  knowing grin,  the one that made it hard to say no.  ❝splurging on a roof  &  four walls, ❞ she said,  voice even,  the faintest thread of humor weaving through.  ❝you really know how to make a girl feel spoiled. ❞

he stews on it. sits in it as he watches samira in silence as she tries processes their predicament and, of course, tries to fix it as if the vehicle is just another patient to diagnose and cure. he kinda likes the thought of her beneath the hood of a smoking car. he keeps that thought to himself as he approaches, deciding not to leave her staring at the mess. if it were flesh and sinew he has no doubt she could solve their problem. unfortunately, it's all metal and plastic and rust and more up his alley than hers.

sort of...

he deals in a world of flesh and blood as well, but unlike her he doesn't mend it.

emil wordlessly reaches down for her wrist, holding up her hand palm first so he can ensure she has not burned herself. touching her skin fills his nerves with more heat than the scorching sun ever could. ❝ you should be more careful, ❞ he mumbles gruffly. a muscle in his jaw pulses, his thumb just lightly brushing the outer edges of her wrist before he releases her. a doctor's hands are a bit too valuable to be put out of service from such a simple slip.

samira’s pulse hadn’t quite recovered from the brief touch of his fingers around her wrist.  the moment was nothing — routine,  practical — but it landed with the weight of something else entirely.  the ghost of his thumb lingered there long after he’d let go,  warmth blooming where it had no right to.  she flexed her hand once,  as if to shake it off,  but the sensation only deepened,  spread. 

❝ i was careful,  ❞ she said,  voice softer than she meant it to be.  she watched him tug his shirt free,   &  for a second she forgot to breathe.  the air between them thickened again — sunlight glinting off sweat,  the scent of salt  &  dust  &  him.  he made even irritation look graceful,  frowning at the engine like he could will it to cooperate. 

❝ i suppose you’re right, ❞ she murmured instead,  stepping closer to the open hood.  ❝ though i’m not sure a taxi will find us out here. ❞ she leaned beside him,  peering into the mess of metal as if trying to divine something from it,  a habit more than anything — her hands itching for something to fix.  ❝ you can’t tell me this is how you pictured spending your afternoon,  either. ❞