Uhm Yeah I Know What Im Doin

——————

The day of the Pitt barbecue has finally arrived. Despite saying you did not want to do anything for the barbecue, you ended up making a brownie— giving in to Baran and Arya’s requests— and a watermelon-cucumber-feta-mint salad. Because Baran said she expected there to only be carbs, meat, and booze or soda. 

You and Baran load the containers of food into the car, storing them safely for the drive to pick up Arya at his dad’s house and to Dana’s.  

You’re wearing a light brown sundress, with a semi-modest neckline— Baran’s lips were quick to press a kiss as far down as she could when you showed off your look: a crimson lipstick print now barely visible— if you know where to look for it. The dress flares above the hips and ends just above your knees. 

Your dress does not quite match Baran’s outfit, but they go together nicely. She’s wearing darker brown slacks, with a lighter grayish blouse. Her blouse has a more plunging neckline, with several golden necklaces dangling between her neck and cleavage. 

Your raindrop necklace rests over your sternal angle, Baran’s eyes can’t help but trail to it every time she sees you reach for it. It has become a soothing habit of yours, rubbing it between your thumb and index finger whenever you have nothing to do. It keeps your mind from drifting off with anxious thoughts, as you stare off into the street.

“Hi, Eshgham.” Baran murmurs, stepping into your space, the scent of her lavender grounding you immediately. Her hand settles over yours, fidgeting with the necklace, and she carefully unclasps your hand, and wraps it around the cool golden pendant hanging from her neck. “Chetori?” 

Your eyes are focused on the golden round shape between her breasts, the metal catching the light. “Do you ever think we might be moving too fast, Babe?” You say softly, eyes not daring to move to meet hers. 

At your question, her breathing hitches, her right hand comes up to grab your chin, moving your face to look at her. “I do not, I am fully content as we are. Is that something you’re concerned with, Love?” Her eyes shine softly, anxiety bubbling up in her heart. 

You shake your head, and Baran lets out a breath she barely knew she was holding. Her thumb brushes your bottom lip. “I was just thinking about what others think of us.” Your eyes blink slowly, followed by Baran blinking at you dumbly. 

“Baby, I couldn’t give a fuck what others think of us. As long as you, Arya, and I are happy, the world can burn for all I care. This is no one’s relationship but ours. And I love you, if it were up to me we would be engaged already, Shirinam.” 

You can’t help but kiss her. You pull her in for a languid kiss, her hand sliding along your jaw as yours grip her hips. 

She breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against yours, her skin warm against you. “You know, it’s really hot how you keep saying you fully intend to propose to me. But what if I beat you to it?” You challenge, already forgetting what led you to this point. 

Baran chuckles softly, her warm breath fanning your face. “Impossible, you’d never steal my thunder.” She thrusts her chin down to peck you quickly. 

You shake my head with a snort. “Nooo, I’d neveeeer.” You retort with a playful tone. 

Baran steps back, her hands sliding down your arms to hold your hands. “Besides, I have to wait at least half a year. I think Cassandra will make you promise the same if you mention wanting to propose.” 

You swing your hands side to side. “Asheghetam, Cassie can try to tell me what to do, doesn’t mean I’ll listen. But we gotta go, Love.” You smirk at her, nodding to the car. Baran stifles her giggles, shaking her head with a smile.  

—

You click on Baran’s ex’s address in the GPS, you know she can drive there on autopilot— even you almost can. She likes the confirmation, the reassurance that everything is under control and going as it should be. 

You both look at the estimated time of arrival; 30 minutes from now, it’s always around 30 minutes, but you still feel the urge to check. 

Baran is focused, eyes on the road, only occasionally flicking to you. Both her hands hold the steering wheel loosely, and you pout, wanting her touch and attention. 

You kick off your flip-flops, with a soft thud, shifting in your seat, draping your legs across Baran’s lap. “Oh, hello. To what do I owe this pleasure?” She grins, a surge of affection running through her, lowering her controlled composure. 

Her right hand immediately falls to your knee, rubbing small circles. Her hand slides up your thigh, bunching the hem of the dress higher and higher. Her fingers stroke your soft skin, the warmth or her touch sending a shiver up your spine, not straying too far from your knee.

At a stoplight, Baran does more than glance over, she takes a long, lustful look up your legs. Her eyes shine with a predatory glint as she catches sight of the lace panties you put on. 

“Now, why did my girlfriend feel the need to put on lace for a work barbecue when you normally wear my boring cotton? Hmm?” She points out with a knowing grin. 

You sheepishly laugh at her. “I just thought you’d enjoy them, later— or now.” You shrug almost offhandedly, and this response makes her brown orbs darken. 

You feel her hand trail up your inner thigh. Your breath momentarily catches in your throat, not expecting this from her. 

Her fingers brush over your lace-covered heat, the delicate fabric doing little to dull the sensation, making another shiver run through you. 

Baran can’t help but avert her eyes from the road to look at you, before they flick down to look between your thighs. As she does, you open your thighs more for her and jut your hips against her hand. 

She grins at your willingness, and with a deft motion, she slides her fingers into your panties, swiping them through your dampening folds. 

You take in a deep breath, trying not to lose your mind before anything has happened. Baran could easily turn on you and leave you high and dry. 

Baran pulls her hand back, much to your dismay. Until she takes the two moist digits into her mouth. She lets out a content hum at the taste of your sweet and heady arousal. 

You let out a strained moan at the sight, the slick between your thighs growing. Baran’s fingers easily find their way back to your warmth, pushing in without any issue. 

You grind your teeth as her thumb taps your clit at an insane speed. Your hands try to find purchase on the dashboard and the center console, afraid you’ll drift off if you don’t hold on.  

Baran works her fingers with a slow, rhythmic deliberation, driving into you with a steady, controlled pace that comes with her disciplined nature. 

She bites her lip as her eyes move from the road to your cunt and back, like clockwork. Her focus is split neatly between the cars around you and your walls sucking her in deeper. 

You move one hand to palm at your breast, wanting more stimulation. “Fuck, Aziz. I just wanted to stretch out.” You hum between thrusts of her fingers. 

“I didn’t expect this from you, Baran. In the car, unconcealed— public, on the way to pick up our son. This is so naughty and sexy of you, Khoshgelam.” You can’t help but point out with a cheeky smile after a particularly loud moan. 

A low, melodic chuckle sounds in Baran’s throat, a sound that you’ve heard many a time, but the world rarely gets to witness. Her fingers stick to the pace she set. Your comment only spurs her on; her fingers thrust deeper and more insistently. 

She glances at the mirrors for a moment, checking for any notable traffic. Her eyes settle back on you, warming with maternal pride and intense, unadulterated desire for you. You calling Arya your son, even while you’re being intimate, brings a soft smile to her lips. Instead of it damping the mood as expected, it propels her even more, the proof of your devotion and love for her your son. 

Baran watches as her fingers sink into your vagina, licking her lips at the squelching noise. “If you keep making pretty sounds like that, I might just turn the car around and take you home.” She murmurs, her voice sultry and velvety. 

You can feel the air shift, the tension thickening between you. Baran leans in closer, getting a whiff of your cyprine mixed with your perfume. She increases the tempo of her fingers, her analytical personality momentarily surrendering to the beauty and chaos of fingering her lover in her car. 

You whine as you feel her start to avoid touching your sweet spot and clit. “I’m so close, Baby, please.” Baran tuts, withdrawing her hand from you. 

You grip her wrist, pulling her back in before her fingers fully leave your heat, holding her hand in place as you start bucking your pussy into her fingers. Baran shakes her head in mock disappointment.

You wither on her fingers. In a last-ditch effort, you reach over and grab her breast tightly, feeling her nipple harden at the rough grope. “Park the car, Baran.” You order, leaving no room for her to question you. “You can eat me out, I know you want to. You’re practically drooling, Joonam.” You offer, also desperately wanting to cum, thumbing away some saliva collecting at the corner of her mouth. 

Without hesitation, Baran pulls over in the first open space along the road. Luckily, you’re not driving through a residential area right now, rather a business and commercial area of sorts. 

Knowing the rear of the car has tinted windows, you slip over the center console as the car rolls to a stop, and Baran’s fingers slip out of you once more. 

You cram Arya’s booster seat over the headrests into the trunk as Baran opens the driver’s side rear door. She uncharacteristically and ungracefully stumbles in. The sight of you waiting for her, an unobstructed view of your dripping vulva, sends an heated jolt of lust through her veins. Immediately, she pushes you onto your back. 

Baran, knowing this is risky, feels the rush of rebellion run through her. You’re on the side of the road, on your way to pick up your son, headed to her staff barbecue that you came up with. Baran chuckles to herself at the realization. 

She kisses up your thigh, starting at your right knee. “Oh, what are you doing to me, Golam?” She shakes her head in amusement, getting lightheaded at the smell of your ever growing musk. 

You smile innocently at her, reaching out to brush your fingers through her hair. “This is all you, Beautiful. I was fully content with just having your hand on my leg.” You flash a toothy grin at her, and Baran’s eyes darken at you putting the blame on her. 

She rolls her eyes before diving toward your awaiting core, not bothering to remove your underwear. Instead, she merely pushes it to the side so her tongue can find your throbbing clit.

Her hands slide up to grip your thighs, holding you steady and impossibly closer. “Fuck you.” She growls with love, before getting to work, knowing you don’t have enough time right now you have forever, and that you’re close. 

She begins lapping at your folds, strongly and deeply with her tongue, determined to taste every drop of your arousal she’d expertly conjured up. 

In the back seat, under a thin veil of privacy, the thrill of being caught still runs through Baran. It motivates her, working quicker and more efficiently at the delicious wet friction at hand. 

Your fingers dig into her scalp. “Christ, Mommy. You’re thirsty.” You moan out, and her honey-brown eyes lock onto yours as her tongue continues to lap at your cunt. 

You brush her hairline with your thumb. “Asheghetam, Baranam.” You speak softly, almost teasingly, before your eyes roll back. 

A low moan works its way through you, vibrating off the walls of the enclosed Volvo. 

Baran pauses for a heartbeat, just taking in the sight of you; blissed out, fucked to kingdom come, and so deeply in love. 

Your fingers tangle in her dark curls, pulling her closer. Baran gives in, without a second thought; she leans into it, her tightly controlled behavior crumbling into an insatiable desire. 

She spent her life trying to control the impossible, most of it an uphill battle. But bringing you to the edge of pleasure and beyond: that was the easiest thing she had ever learned. 

Her tongue works urgently against your clitoris, her eyes still on yours. She looks like a hippopotamus lurking in a river, you think to yourself, momentarily pulled from your pleasure with a laugh. 

The intimacy of her native language rolling off your tongue in such a raw, carnal moment hits her harder than any physical touch ever could. It feels like a sacred vow, between you two and whatever, or whomever, may be up above. 

Baran is still working your sensitive nub. “Mâl-e Man, you are mine and mine alone.” She whispers, her voice thick with fierce, protective, near-possessive adoration. Her voice trembles at the intensity of her feelings, the uncomfortable position of the back seat making it even more difficult to contain.

Her mouth reclaims your cunt with a renewed desperation. She wants to worship you, taste every drop of you, and promise with every flick of her tongue that you are wholly hers as she is yours. 

You let out breathless, rough whines, command her to make you cum. 

She had given you control, without question. If her princess wants something, she’ll get it, timely, too. Your whine, the last catalyst, snaps what is left of her restraint.   

She shifts her position, tilting your hips by moving to rest on her forearms, the leather seat damp against her skin, and her fingers still digging in your upper thighs. 

She speeds up, switching between different shapes of tongue strokes. She can feel your thighs start to shake, your muscles tensing around her head, under her grip, ready to release. 

She leans in impossibly closer, breathing in the intoxicating scent of your arousal, her heart pulsating against her ribcage. 

She laps up your folds with a flat tongue, then with a pointed tongue, then focuses on your extremely sensitive clitoris. She flicks her tongue at it with an unrelenting pace, before sucking it lightly. 

She doesn’t stop or slow down until she feels the staggered contractions of your orgasm, your abdominal muscles contracting, and you squirming to fold in on yourself in overstimulation. 

You feel a warmth gush out of you as your body relaxes. Still breathing deep, you slot your fingers with Baran’s, still around your thigh, your other hand tenderly brushes hair from her face, hoping it won’t stick to her skin, slick with sweat and your cyprine. 

She pulls away, licking her lips as she does. She presses a few kisses to your inner thighs before she quickly wraps her hair in a messy bun. “I love you too, Hame Kasam.” She finally echoes, her mouth now unoccupied. 

She sits up on the seat, her hands calmly stroking your legs, bringing you down from your high. 

She glances in the rearview mirror; her eyes still dark and hooded, her expression softening. Her mouth and chin are covered in your slick, you had been right; she had been hungry for you— well, she always is, you are her favorite taste, after all. 

As you’re coming down from your high, she wipes your slick off her face with the back of her hand, before licking the smear of you from her hand. 

In a surge of love, you softly tug at the neckline of her blouse, bringing her closer. You kiss her with a fierce hunger. Your eyes are nearly black as you look at her, not out of lust but reverence. Against her lips, you mumble that she’s your person, the only one for you. 

Just admiring her face, centimeters from yours, you tenderly thumb the last bit of your pleasure from her cheek. You pop your thumb into your mouth, and Baran playfully pouts at that. 

You can’t hold back a giggle at her big, sad brown eyes, pulling her in for another sweet kiss. Her hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing it softly as she deepens the kiss.  

You let out a soft hum as she lays her upper body on yours. Her head nestles in the crook of your neck. 

Your fingers run along her back as you both catch your breath and try to settle. “I hope you’re not as uncomfortable as I am in this back seat.” You sigh with an awkward laugh. 

Baran’s lips hover over the damp skin of your neck. “I am too. But it’s okay, for you I’ll happily be uncomfortable. Just a few more minutes, before we should go, don’t want to be too late.” She hums, as she watches your eyes droop a little. 

“If we stay like this any longer, I’ll fall asleep, and my back will kill me in the morning.” You laugh.  

Baran rests on her elbows to look at you with an understanding smile. “I didn’t think you were that old yet. I didn’t get those issues until around the time I got pregnant with Ari.” She teases you with a knowing smile. 

You grumble. “Well, sorry, Mrs. Pilates and Good Genes. Most people get these things in their twenties, or, well, almost everyone I know did.” You roll your eyes, giving her a light shove which makes her smile. 

Baran drops her weight back onto you, making you force out a huff of air. “That’s Mrs. Al-Hashimi-McKay or McKay-Al-Hashimi to you, Dear.” She kisses your cheek giddily. 

You shake your head. “You gonna marry my sister then?” You pose rhetorically. 

“I don’t mind taking your name, Baran. With your ancestry, being a refugee of different cultures. I think its strength and history are more encompassing than the name that I got through being adopted.” You admit honestly, understanding how much her name means to her. 

Baran’s eyes move between your eyes and lips, seemingly stuck in a repetitive pattern. “You’re so beautiful, you know. Inside and out.” She whispers pressing a kiss to your lips before moving to leave a peck on your chest, over your heart. 

She sits up, knowing you should start to get a move on again, this intermission took long enough. She pulls you to sit up too. “What if we made your name a middle name? So the name can be carried on through our children.” She suggests, tidying your hair, trying to make it less sex-messy.

You lean over to press a chaste kiss on her cheek. “You’re a genius, Azizam. But this is a bridge we’ll cross in at least half a year. I do love where your mind is at though, Darling.” You praise, before deciding it’s time to get a move on. 

Back in the driver's seat, the analytical, problem-solving, and need for control in Baran make her calculate how far behind schedule you are. However, she only has to look over at you to be reminded of what life is about: what she learned in Kabul and every day in the Emergency Department; living in the moment and enjoying the smaller things in life. 

So she starts the car, takes your hand in hers, and checks her mirrors before signaling to go back onto the road. Only 20 minutes behind the agreed-upon pick-up time of your son. 

——

You arrive at Dana and Benji’s house, more than fashionably late thanks to your little side quest. Arya lets go of your hand, quickly swept into a game of tag with the other kids: Harrison, Penny, and Tanner, and adults: Crus, Dennis, Donnie, Frank, Mel, Nazely, Trinity, and Victoria. The adults are more and less involved in the game. When you later ask Trinity about it, she tells you she’s only playing with Langdon because his kids asked her to join, and they’re innocent. 

Baran goes to greet her coworkers as you go to grab yourselves a drink, having spotted Samira and Emma chatting with an unfamiliar woman. 

“Hi, Darlings, sorry for our— my delay to my party. We got stuck in traffic picking up Ari” You greet the two, giving both a hug. 

Samira responds with a pshaw at your words, you only blush a little, and give them a light shove before turning to the third woman.

The woman is roughly your age. You notice she has neatly manicured acrylics— not a medical worker then. She is stunning, in a casual outfit— perfect for a barbecue, hair neatly, yet seemingly effortlessly pulled up, and gorgeous eyes. 

You hold out your hand and greet her, telling her your name. “I’m the Pitt’s resident non-patient visitor. Cassie’s little sister, and I’m dating Baran, so I’m Harrison’s aunt and Arya’s stepmom?.” You explain, pointing to the respective people, struggling with naming your relationship with Arya— feeling comfortable calling him your son, but not quite his mom per se.  

The woman, Sophie, shakes your hand, telling you she is Parker’s wife. She goes on to tell you that she’s a lawyer and they met while both attending Columbia. When she asks how you and Baran got together, you tell her that out of all the two or so million people in greater Pittsburgh, you managed to get stood up and then unintentionally picked up the one superior of your sister’s you hadn’t met yet. 

You make light conversation with the three before you catch Baran’s gaze, reminding you of your mission: drinks. You excuse yourself and pick a can of lime seltzer for Baran and a soda for yourself. 

On your way over to your girlfriend, you greet everyone you come across, promising you’ll circle back to them at some point in the evening. 

“Hi, Joonam.” You whisper in Baran’s ear as you sneak up behind her. She chuckles, unfazed, turning her face to kiss your cheek. “Salam, Khoshgelam. What did you get me?” 

You hold her seltzer and your soda out with your arms wrapped around her waist, offering both, as if she would drink a whole can of sugared soda. She rolls her eyes at your antics, opening both cans while they’re still in your hands.

Baran takes your soda from you, taking a sip. Shivering, she complains about how sweet it is before taking her seltzer and washing the sugar down. 

At her complaint about the sugary drink, Arya comes running up, as if summoned. “Oh, what’s that, Hamsar?” He asks innocently, acting as though he doesn’t know what you’re drinking. 

You let go of Baran and help him sit up on your hip. “You’re getting too big already, Pesaram.” You complain, and he gives you his mom’s naughty smile. “How about you take a sip of mine, try it before you commit to a can. You know Maman’s rule: only one can of soda, otherwise you and Mop will be bouncing off the walls all night long.” You mockingly point out, knowing Baran is listening intently from beside you.  

You glance at Baran as Arya takes a careful sip from the can, you wink at her with a smirk, and she grins back at how casual and normal this all appears to be. 

Arya smacks his lips as he hands you back the noticeably lighter can. “Hmmm, I don’t think this is what I want, Hamsar.” He concludes, assuredly. 

You chuckle at him as you squeeze his waist with your arm wrapped around him. “Are you sure, Bunny? Cause between you and Maman, both taking a sip, my can is suddenly half empty.” You playfully chastise. 

Baran steps in closer, pinching Arya’s side, making him squeak. “You, little rascal, Mama is being nice and you do that?” Baran scoffs humorously, making Arya mumble out a halfhearted apology. 

You turn him away from Baran, protecting him from another assault at his mom’s hand. “Don’t mind her, she’s just jealous she didn’t think of drinking that much.” You whisper in his ear as you kiss his hair, causing him to giggle. 

You tell him that as long as Baran doesn’t notice, you’ll allow him to have two sodas tonight. He nods conspiratorially, “I love you, Hamsar. You’re the bestest.” He whispers back as you lower him to the ground, after he kisses your cheek. 

“Now go play with your cousin and the other kids, Bud!” You call after him as Baran wraps her arm around you, bringing you over to join a conversation between Perlah, Princess, and Jesse. 

—

The barbecue is in full swing now, drinks are being drunk, sides are being eaten, and protein is on the grill. 

Dana pulls out a chair and urges you to stand on it and speak to the group of hospital workers and their respective family members. 

“Hey, all. Welcome to Dana and Benji’s. Glad you’re all enjoying it so far. I’d like to thank you all for misinterpreting my girlfriend’s relationships with my closest friends— making this all possible.” You joke, referencing the bet that financed all this. 

You look over at Cassie and Baran, standing side by side, looking at you in admiration. “I would also like to thank you all for being so welcoming—“ You cough with an obvious shake of your head, “Robby—“ “to your interim and soon-to-be co-chief attending, and my girlfriend.” You announce Baran’s permanent position at PTMC, making congratulations and woos erupt.

After the cheers die down, you motion to Dana, Benji, and the grill. “I checked with our lovely hostess, the woman who keeps you all in line during the day, everything is vegetarian or beef. So it’s all halal, kosher, gōspandān and whatnot.” Arya grins up at you as you do your best pronounce the word that says the food is clean and safe according to Zoroastrianism, the religion that Baran, Arya, and you by proxy, loosely adhere to. 

You raise your drink to the group. “So enjoy, and drink responsibly. The closest hospital is the Pitt, and all their most capable hands are here.” You salute, finishing your toast. 

You stand on the chair, considering how to get down. Arya calls, “Wait, Hamsar, let me help.” 

On his tippy toes, Arya holds up his hand to help you down. You and most others, still watching, swoon at the gesture. You pull him in for a hug, lifting him to your full height— his feet dangling off the ground. “Thank you, Little Prince. Ready?” You say gratefully, waiting for a nod before releasing him, making him stick the landing like a gymnast. 

—

At some point, you drift over to chat with Benji by the grill. You’d met him at last year’s barbecue. There’s no real overlap in your interests as he’s a 50-60-year-old straight man, quite literally the opposite of you. 

You hand him a new beer, which he accepts gratefully. “Your sister and my wife seem to be hanging out quite a lot recently, while I’m away with work. Do you think they’re—” 

Dana interjects, cutting off Benji’s suggestion, “Ben, no need to bother our guest of honor about any of that right now.” 

She grabs your hip, wraps her arm across your back, and drags you away from the grill toward the trampoline where the kids are calling for attention to their tricks. 

On the trampoline, Trinity is assisting the kids in doing backflips one by one. Dana happily told her coworkers with children that Benji never took the trampoline out of the backyard. Even though their daughters are both college-age now, the trampoline hasn’t been seriously used in over a decade. 

“Hamsar, Maman, Khahar, look what Trinceratops taught me!!!” Arya yells out, urging the others off the trampoline. 

Baran and Cassie turn their attention to the young boy from further away. 

Arya does an unassisted backflip after bouncing for a few seconds. His flip is nowhere near magnificent, but it’s a flip nonetheless. 

He lands on his feet, stumbling back a little into your arms as you quickly move to intercept him before he might fall. 

Arya starts to let out a yelp before you secure him in your hold. “I got you, Baby, don’t worry.” You whisper, pulling him close. 

He lets out a giggle. “Thank you, Hamsar.” “Always, Bun. That was a neat flip. I think Trin will have some pointers if you want to improve. But that was really good. I’m so proud of you, Sweetie.” You praise him.

Arya takes your hand and pulls you onto the trampoline. Before you know it, you’re bouncing in a circle with the four kids, all holding hands. Minutes later, you’re functioning as their launching device. At first, you hold the hand of the kid you're boosting until Harrison says he’s big enough to not need your assistance, he falls flat on his ass. You do your best to stifle your laughter as you help him up, and he grumbles that you did that on purpose. 

“Okay, kiddos, go get a hot dog. I think, they should be perfect to eat now.” You direct them to the tray of hot dogs Benji pulled off the grill a couple of minutes ago. “Go sit by anyone you want. I think everyone will be excited to tell you a story. Or just sit together in the grass, that's also really nice.” You say, hoping they’ll bother other people rather than their respective parents. 

—

From a distance, Baran, Cassie, Dana, and Lena watch you with the kids. Baran’s eyes crinkle with a loving smile at how effortlessly you fool around with her son and the others. A light, secure warmth blooms at the apex of her chest, her heart pounding with affection for you: as a mom, her partner, her person. 

“They really took to each other like fish to water, huh?” Dana grins, patting Baran’s shoulder. Cassie and Baran nod. 

Cassie points out, “Except for maybe their looks, you’d never assume they’re anything but mother and child.” Baran hums at her sister-in-law’s words. 

Lena turns more towards the women, lowering her voice. “Would you consider having another with her? It seems like she’d love it.” The night charge nurse suggests, only for the three to hear. 

Baran and Cassie respond at the same time to the redhead’s words. 

“Only all the time, she’s the best mama to Ari.” Baran says, barely having to think about her words as they feel so natural— inevitable, even. 

Cassie’s eyes widen at Lena’s idea. “Hey! They’ve only been together for two months. So let’s cool it on the kid talk, no need for more baby trapping.” She says, her voice stern and hushed.

Baran and Cassie look at each other, having half-heard the other’s words. “Oh!” “Oh?” They mirror dumbly. 

Cassie apologizes. “Sorry, I know you’re super happy together and my little sister loves you dearly. I just can’t help but worry about my little sister. I moved too fast when I was her age. It got me where I am now: a divorced mom, still a recovering substance abuser after being sober for nearly ten years, who shares custody with her ex and his tween girlfriend.” Cassie admits her sincere worries. 

The other women know she’s not spiralling as the third-year resident is still able to formulate a jab at Chloe, her ex’s problematically younger girlfriend. Dana rubs a comforting hand up Cassie’s arm, and Baran sees a tenderness shared between the women she hadn’t seen between either of them before.   

“I understand, Cassandra, I know it’s nothing personal to do with me. Just know that I don’t do or push for anything that Eshgham isn’t 100% in agreement with. I know I’m settled in my life, the pace is all up to her. I’d never force anything upon her: Arya and I love her too much for that.” Baran tries to reassure Cassie, not giving away genuine details but being honest nonetheless. 

Cassie is understanding, while Dana and Lena hum in support. 

——

You’re eating a burger— or, well, just about finished eating one— as Nazely recounts a funny story from her night shift a few days ago. “So then, after thoroughly asking questions, upon inspection and extraction, this man had a 21cm tall perfume bottle up his rectum. And for some reason, it was an Eiffel Tower-shaped bottle?!” She laughs out, still confused by the whole ordeal. 

You, Dennis, and Crus laugh along. “Well, that’s fucking dumb. Shoving glass up your ass. He was lucky that shit didn’t break. And then, also butt plugs are like 50$ at most. That perfume alone would be worth more than that.” Trinity pipes up, stumped at the stupidity of some people.

Crus pats Trinity on her back. “Santos, trust me, I’ve pulled worse things from anal cavities since I was an R2.” Trinity just grumbles at the world. “And with that, I'm happy I finished my burger before either of you shared this.” You just motion vaguely between them all, making them laugh. 

Meanwhile, the boys have hit their second wind, post-hotdog drowned in Pittsburgh’s finest: Heinz. They’re now doing handstands while John, Mel, and Frank have taken over the trampoline.  

Harrison and Arya spot each other doing handstands, with varying degrees of success. “Maman, can you help us?” Arya calls out to Baran only a few yards away. “Ask Mama, Pesar, I was just about to take a seat.” Baran waves him off, having stood idly for too long. 

“Hamsar?” “Oh, so I’m your second choice, am I?” You tease, walking up and tickling him until he tells you he thought Baran felt left out.

You spot them both a few rounds before they ask you if you can even do a handstand. With an insulted gasp, you tell them you used to, but haven’t tried to in a while. 

You ask Trinity, thinking you’re giving her an out as she is in a deep conversation with Dennis and Benji about something way too political for a fun work barbecue. 

You ask Baran, giving her your biggest puppy eyes. She shakes her head but gives in with a smile and a soft, “Okay, ‘cause I’d like to see you try as well, Eshgham.”

You beg her not to drop you, as you won’t survive such embarrassment. “I promise, I’ve got you, Aziz. Always.” “Okay, Golam.” You accept, before taking a breath and mumbling to yourself, “Here goes nothing.” 

Baran is quick to stabilize your legs and hold up your dress before you flash everyone. She grabs your thighs, holding you and the dress before she eases you back to your feet. 

“Wow, Auntie, that was really good for an old person.” Harrison jokes. “Excuse me, you little shit?!” “Cassandra, your spawn just called me old. Come beat his ass before I do.” You joke calling for your sister’s attention. 

Cassie looks over at the commotion and you calling her name. “Nah, he’s all yours, Pea. You have my blessing to do what you must.” She smirks dismissively and turns back to her hushed conversation with Dana, standing a ways away from anyone else. 

Lowering your posture, you stage-whisper to Arya and Harrison. “Bud, if you want to call anyone old, go to Robby and Jack, they’re ancient. ‘Cause women never get old. They only get sexier as they age. Like both your moms.” You smirk, making both boys groan out a gag, barely understanding your words. 

Baran blushes at your words. You grab her chin, giving it a wag before pecking a kiss to her lips. “You’re beautiful, Khoshgelam.” You murmur, still in her personal space. 

Baran smooths out your dress. “Mmm, says you, Darling. You’re the prettiest thing here, by far.” She whispers, smiling as she kisses another quick kiss to your lips. 

You chuckle against her cheek. “Now I know you’re lying, Baranam, ‘cause Sami is here, and they definitely are the prettiest thing here. But I’ll happily take being the prettiest woman in your eyes.” You jab playfully. 

Baran laughs heartily at your joke. “Sure, Azizam. If that makes you accept the truth, then gladly.” She rubs her hands up your torso, making a shiver run through you. 

——

Arya and Harrison are fooling around by the trampoline, Tanner and Penny were taken home by Frank not long ago. You and Victoria are pestering John about coffee. Baran is chatting about something or other with Nazely, finally having time to go into Armenian culture. 

You offer John a deal: he can only drink non-iced coffee for a week, or just no Dunkin’, and you’ll go full Dunkin’ as a trade-off. 

The usual non-superstitious man freezes. “I can’t do that. If I don’t have my Dunkin’, the shift will go terribly.” He rebuts, making you assume he has to be from New England: only a Bostonian is that serious or passionate about their Dunkin’. 

Victoria chuckles dryly. “I thought you didn’t do our superstitious bullshit?” She retorts unbelievingly. “In the ED, yes. Dunkin’ is my life, my loyalty lies with them, and maybe my partner.”

—

While bouncing on the trampoline, Harrison asks Arya if he wants to have a sleepover tonight. Arya nods and says, “I just need to ask my moms first.”

Arya turns more to the groups of adults. “Moms?” Arya calls, walking over. You can’t help but instinctively turn to his voice, not even registering his word. 

You and Baran aren’t too far from each other, so Arya just walks over until he’s a few yards away. “Moms, can I sleep over at Khahar and Pesar Khaleh’s tonight?” He beams, his big brown eyes fixed on you both. 

Baran stills and just looks at you as you tell him that of course he can, if Cassie is cool with it— she always is.

Arya cheerfully runs back to Harrison, urging him to go inside to play on the “ancient Switch” Nintendo Wii that Dana and Benji still have hooked up. 

Baran is still frozen, staring blankly in your direction. You can’t help but worry as you look up at her, fearing she may be having an absence seizure. 

“Joonam, halet khubeh?” You ask whether she’s okay as you step closer to her, your conversation now no longer important. 

Baran’s eyes stay on you, trailing your movement as you come closer. This eases your worries as she’s clearly not catatonic. 

She softly shakes her head. “He called us moms, Mama.” She starts to grin at you as she speaks softly. 

You shake your head in disbelief, denying her claim. “Yes, Eshgham, he recognizes you as his mother— together with me at least.” She reaffirms. 

You subtly cheer and pump your fist. Baran looks at you lovingly, proud of how happy the term of familiarity coming from her son . 

—

The boys are entertaining themselves inside; they’re struggling to stay awake already. So the Pittcrew decided it was time to wind down, chairs now circled around a campfire Dennis had offered to light not too long ago. 

You’re sitting on the grass, between Baran’s legs, leaning against her and her chair. Her free hands resting on your shoulders, to keep you tethered. 

A light breeze makes you shiver, and Baran rubs your shoulders to warm you. The fire crackles in front of you, as you sit on the cool grass, Baran warm and steady behind you.  

A bit later, as you’ve warmed up a little, Baran’s hand moves to caress your shoulder, later she shifts to tenderly trace along your clavicle. 

——

Cassie gets up, tossing her empty soda can in the bin. “Okay, it’s time for me to take my son and nephew home.” Cassie states, starting to hug a few people goodbye. 

Baran gets up from her chair behind you so she can move Arya’s car seat to Cassie’s car. She flashes the keys as Cassie greets you both, telling her she’ll help move the sleeping boys from the living room to her car. 

Dana snatches the keys from her hand with a scheming smile, telling her to sit back down. “Don’t worry, Hon, I’ve got it.” The charge nurse says, followimg your sister inside. 

You exchange a confused glance with Baran at the offer, Dana hadn’t seen anyone out so far. 

—

Over 20 minutes later, Dana returns. Expertly, she tosses your car keys at you. 

You take the blonde in; cheeks slightly flushed, hair mussed, breathing more rapidly than the walk would have caused, swollen lips, and a dazed smile. 

Your eyes widen at the woman, at the realization of what likely transpired. 

Turning to Baran to hand her the keys back and ask for your phone— stupid dresses without pockets and your unwillingness to bring a purse for just your phone— she’s already holding it out for you. 

Baran clearly noticed what you had, wordlessly having already opened your text thread with Cassie. 

Cassandra Is there anything I should know about you and Dana??

You don’t get a response until later that night, when you’re comfortably snuggled up with Baran in bed.

Maybe? We are not having an affair! She and Benji opened their relationship years ago and are now considering divorce  

——————

Part 15 of My Little Sister?! Series <- Part 14 — Part 16 (coming soon) ->

Author’s note

Like, reblog, comment, interact, all that good shit 💕

Sorry that it’s been so long between chapters lately. I’m struggling with writer's block and the heatwave that coursed across Europe, it was too warm to think.  

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DYLbnhpz_3W/?igsh=cm1weHliNzh1d2Fn and https://www.instagram.com/reel/DYDMeWBstSz/?igsh=cDR3MTg4NTRxeWZi had me going crazy, I needed Baran to do this.

xx Liz

——————

After your shower, with your wrists dried, slathered in ointment and wrapped in bandages,, Baran gently guides you onto the bed to help with the sunburn you got for her. Both of you are just towel-dry and fully nude, the chilly bedroom air cool on your skin. You have your damp hair pulled up to expose the back of your neck.

The fresh, neutral scent of aloe vera takes over your senses as Baran opens the tube with a soft click, ready to soothe your skin.

Baran settles herself on your lower back, her warm thighs a comforting pressure against your skin. Rather than just spreading the lotion, she intends to give you a light massage. She dispenses some of the cream on your back, the cool gel a shocking contrast against your heated skin. Goosebumps rise on your arms in response to the sudden chill.

Baran’s tender fingers begin to rub the aloe into your damp skin, the lotion absorbing quickly under her touch. Her strong thumbs work in rhythmic circles on your right shoulder blade, then glide to the left.

A low groan escapes you at the light sting in your sunburned back as she works out the tense muscle along your spine.

You let out a deep sigh as the soothing touch of your girlfriend’s lotion-slicked hands ease your tension. Baran can feel your body relax under her fingers, and she grins at how peaceful you look.

The soft curls of her bush tickle your skin as she leans up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Better, Aziz?” You murmur, your eyes already practically falling shut, the massage and warmth lulling you toward sleep.

Baran rolls off you and settles beside you, coming to lie close. She brushes her knuckles gently from your eyebrow to your jaw. Your lips curl into a sleepy smile at the soft touch. “F’ve m’n’t nap, okay, L’ve?” You mumble barely coherently.

Her hand warm and familiar finds yours, intertwining your fingers. Your girlfriend leans over, placing a loud, smacking kiss on your hair. “Sure, Sweets. Just till the aftersun is absorbed.” She coos sweetly.

“Okay, Khoshgelam. Wakey, wakey.” Baran, her brown eyes gleaming with mischief, prods her fingers into your side, making you squirm at the unexpected assault.

Your eyes shoot open, you momentarily glare at Baran, before you see her loving gaze. Her honey-brown eyes, warm and charming on you.

You shift your weight to caress her cheek, her eyes briefly flutter closed at the touch. “I love you.” You whisper smiling gently. Baran kisses your palm, “I love you too, Mama.” You smile deepens, utterly charmed by her response.

“We could just never open the door. They'll fuck off to KFC eventually. We can just lie around like this, buck naked.” You suggest with a mischievous grin.

She shakes her head, amused. “Oh, I wish, Joonam. But we asked them to drive out all this way. The least we can do is throw on some clothes and serve them dinner.”

You groan, rolling on top of her, your back flush against her front. “I’ll make it worth your while though, Lovely.” You rest your interlocked hands on your abdomen, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. “No, Pretty. You aren’t the one who works with them. And they’ll take any tiny excuse to poke fun at me for loving my girlfriend— even your sister.” Baran pushes you both up to sit, you now in her lap.

—

“I was thinking of that one black button-up on you? It’ll easily cover your wrists and back, and is soft and breathable. And you could leave a few buttons undone for me.” Baran’s fingers gently trace down the slope of your bare breasts, the light touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You stand together in front of your closet, figuring out what would hide the most marks for either of you. Both of you are already wearing bottoms; you in low-hanging linen pants to avoid irritating your sunburned skin, and Baran in a stylish off-white skirt.

You find said shirt and pull it on, leaving it completely unbuttoned. “Yeah, sorry about the hickey, Baby. I mean it could look worse, like this one.” You point to a fresh bruise she left in the shower twenty minutes ago. She dismisses you with a wave.

Grabbing a lilac blazer, the soft fabric brushing against your skin, she takes your hand. “Let’s get started on dinner, yeah? Play some music and enjoy some tea before your friends come.”

You tut, standing your ground and pulling her back as she starts to walk downstairs. “Our friends, Eshgham. If you expect me to call this house ours or mine and Arya my son, then my friends are yours too.”

Baran’s steps falter, and she looks at you with soft eyes. “Friendship doesn't work the same, Golam. It takes time and effort to build.” You roll your eyes, scoffing in amusement at her stubbornness.

—

In the kitchen, Baran acts as your sous-chef, following your every order. Noah Kahan plays from the music box you’d added to the decor when moving in. As you tear up chopping the onion, followed by celery and garlic, she grates a chunk of parmesan for you.

You cook the onions before adding the celery and the garlic. Meanwhile, Baran has moved on to seasoning chunks of bell pepper that you asked her to roast in the oven beside you. You pour a can of tomato paste into the pan, turning the heat up to cook off its raw edge.

As you add the risotto rice to your pan, coating it in the fragrant onion-garlic-celery oil and tomato paste before adding half your stock, Baran comes to stand behind you. Her arms wrap around your waist, and she slowly sways you both to the music as you stir the pan, the rhythmic scraping of the spoon against the metal pan filling the air.

She holds your body close to hers, her hands threading together just beneath your belly button. You turn the induction stove down, stirring once more before interlacing your fingers with hers. You lean your weight more fully into her as her head rests on your shoulder. Baran softly hums along to the music, the vibrations of her ringing through your body warmly.

You feel her take a deep breath against your neck, and you chuckle at her. “Baby, I smell like the same soap you do, with a dash of aloe. You saw me avoid my perfume.” You say, your voice dry but your eyes twinkling. Despite being unable to see your eyes, Baran has a knowing smile.

She places a small kiss on your neck and shakes her head playfully. “No, Lovely. You still smell like you. Under all the scents and layers, I know your smell.” Her lips brush your neck as she speaks.

You quirk a brow, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Oh, yeah? What do I smell like?” You tease.

Baran inhales deeply again, taking you in once more. “There’s a faint muskiness to you, something warm and amber-like, and something pointedly mine.” Her hold tightens, pulling you impossibly closer, as if she could attach herself to you forever.

You can’t do anything but titter as those words leave her lips. You squirm in her hold, turning to face her. She has her hair pulled up with a claw clip, a few strands of hair framing her face and practically accentuating the light hickey on her neck. Your eyes trace over her, just taking in her beauty in silence.

Your lips find hers in a soft kiss, the warmth of her mouth as important as the air you breathe, as you hum. “Yours? Like how the people coming over are your friends?” You tease, grinning against her mouth.

She rolls her eyes as she lets out a sigh in playful frustration. “Azizam, no. Sure they’re my friends, I guess.” She relents, giving in to your words with a softening voice. “But you smell like mine, in a way that I don’t intend to ever let you go.”

“Good.” You breathe against her lips. “I don’t want to be let go, ever. I can’t imagine my future without you or our kids— Arya and those yet to come.” You kiss her like you need her lips to breathe, desperate and tender all at once.

She pulls back from the kiss, resting her forehead against yours. “Truly?” Her honeyed eyes search yours like she might catch you in a half-truth, warm and intense. “Genuinely. Actually, I never really saw myself as a maternal type— birth kind of scares me.”

You take a beat, thinking how to phrase your words, and Baran clearly sees this and lets you have a moment. “But Ari brings something out of me. I want to see him do well, I want him around— but it’s a different love than I have for Harrison. It’s not that I’m less worried about him, or that I worry about Arya. But it is something else entirely.”

She smiles widely at you, her thumb rubbing your hip, a loving and possessive touch. “And somehow, the idea of having kids, of birthing them, doesn’t feel as scary with you as my partner. When you first mentioned it, I couldn’t stop seeing myself: with your loving support around me.”

Baran giggles at that, whispering out words of agreement. She says that she had concluded that Arya would be her one and only child and she had made peace with it. But that your shared sexual fantasy awoke something lurking just under the surface: that you made her desire more.

At her confession, you can’t help but softly brush her hair back. You murmur soft words about how special this— she is to you.

Her hands slide down to your ass, her fingers kneading them. You play with the baby hairs at the base of her head. You want to rest your forehead against hers, but you bend your neck a bit too enthusiastically and end up conking your head against hers.

You both pull away with strained laughs, as you mutter apologies. Baran kisses you on the place of impact while rubbing her head. Just as you’re about to return the favor, the doorbell rings.

—

Baran goes to open the door while you say you’ll follow her after stirring the risotto once more. You close a few buttons of your shirt, still showing heavy cleavage; just less likely to cause a nip-slip because you’re not wearing an undergarment.

You hear your sister, Samira, and Victoria laughing as you enter the foyer. Your eyes find Baran’s unusually rosy-colored neck and you walk over and wrap a semi-protective arm around her waist.

“Everything good here?” You ask no one in particular, though your gaze lingers on your girlfriend. The three at the door start another symphony of cackles.

Just as you’re about to ask what they’re getting at, Trinity, Mel, and Dennis walk through the door. The Filipina immediately screeches, “Holy fuck, Robo-Doc with a hickey?!” Your eyes snap to the mark on Baran’s neck, a blush now taking over your cheeks as well.

“How’d you manage that, Pea? I mean, Baran has left you black and blue before. But I’ve never seen a bruise or bite on her.” Cassie joins in, reaching out to prod her boss’s neck, her fingers hovering just shy of contact.

You swat your sister’s hand away, your nails grazing her skin, hissing like a cat.

“No, no. Cass is right. We’re used to seeing that, and that on you. But never on Baran.” Victoria points to your neck and your thigh. Your thigh? You look down to see a dental imprint sticking out of the bottom of your rucked-up shorts. When the fuck did sh— oh, the shower!

You snort out a laugh as you meet Baran’s guilty eyes, despite the cheeky smile on her lips. You lace your hands together and squeeze hers, a silent promise between you two.

“Okay, anything else you want to accuse my girlfriend or me of before we let you into our house? ‘Cause I gotta get back to my risotto.” You ask, as they all neatly take off their shoes, the sound zippers and laces filling the foyer.

Orderly, they follow you and Baran to the dining room, like little ducklings. Baran tells them to take a seat, and she herself does too. You still hold her hand even though your seat next to her is empty; you had to finish up dinner, and Baran had to get more familiar with the group of friends.

You squeeze her hand before leaning down to kiss her cheek, the scent of her perfume tingles your nose. “Anything I need to put in the fridge? I still need to put the final touches on dinner.” You call out to the table. Cassie lifts the tote bag from her shoulder.

Before you can take the bag from Cassie, she pulls out one of the wine bottles. Baran had put an ice cooler on the table, the condensation building up on its outside, knowing this would happen.

“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen. If you bully my girlfriend or if any of you spill more dirt on me, I will come out of the kitchen prepared: with Baran’s favorite knife.” You raise a challenging brow at Baran and Cassie, and they both feel a hint of sincerity behind your words.

—

The group got to chatting, them paired with the still playing music gave you a good background noise to work with while cutting up tomatoes.

Only a few minutes after you left them, you call from the kitchen:

“Hey, could someone quickly loan me a hand?— not my girlfriend, sister, or Victoria!” you ask, slightly distressed, from the kitchen, interrupting the soft chatter around the doorway.

Silence sets over the table, and Baran’s golden eyes and Cassie’s blue ones meet over the dining table. “She cut herself.” Baran announces, while Cassie says, “Dumbass is bleeding.”

Samira’s hand on Baran’s shoulder as they get up, offering to help. A little confused, Mel interjects, “Wait, why would she not want Baran or Cassie there to help?” Samira leaves to help you, as the others can explain as she stops whatever amount of blood is pouring out of you.

“Her girlfriend and sister will yell at her for hurting herself, Melatonin. And Crash has passed out at the sight of blood.” Trinity explains, to which both Mel and Dennis let out an understanding hum.

Everyone looks at Dennis questioningly. “What? I don’t know McCookie well enough to know how her relationships work. She mostly tolerates my existence.” Dennis offers softly.

Your voice draws them to look at the doorway, and you say, “No, I like you, Huck. I just like your roommate more.” You smile impishly.

Samira appears by your side, holding up your left hand for show. “Practically a false alarm, bandaid had it covered. And what did we learn?” Samira asks with an amused smile.

“I should grab a tomato knife when cutting tomatoes and not try to make them my bitch with a pairing knife.” You respond, looking at the floor in embarrassment.

At your statement, Baran, Cassie, and Trinity all call your name in exasperation. “It’s my one fatal flaw, okay? But you all love me, no matter how often I try to cut a tomato with a pairing knife.” You grin at the table, walking over to kiss the top of Baran’s head as you let her her tender hands check your finger, mindful of your still-bandaged wrists.

She presses a small kiss to your bandaged finger, making you smile giddily at the sweet action.

“Pittlings, can you help me bring the plates from the kitchen?” You cheekily ask Mel, Trinity, Dennis, and Victoria?. The four get up without question and follow you; in the kitchen, they all grab two plates.

You follow after them with a wineglass. You grab a seat next to your woman, putting your empty glass on the designated coaster. Without a word, Baran reaches for the open bottle of sauvignon blanc on the table and pours you a glass.

You squeeze her thigh in silent thanks before explaining the dish. “So I made a summery roast bell pepper risotto, with burrata and potentially a dash of blood.” You joke. “No pork because of yours truly, no beef for Tori, fully vegetarian— even the rennet in the burrata for Sami. And it’s full of high-protein cheese for tumble girl and farm boy. Enjoy.”

—

“So, where’s your kid?” Samira asks, as most plates around the table are being scraped clean. You respond as Baran is mid-bite, “He’s with his dad. He’ll be here most of the time when school starts up again, so he’s spending as much time with his baba as he wants.”

Cassie does a surprised intake. “Wow, Baran, how do you have majority custody with our job?”

“I don’t? My ex and I never did the divorce court thing. At first, when Ari was younger, we planned everything according to my schedule. Now, Ari has a lot more influence over it. And it helps having a girlfriend whose job aligns with the school’s schedule.” Baran shares like it’s nothing.

Trinity adds on to Baran’s words. “And the boy loves McMini a lot. He didn’t mention having any other grownup than her when I met him, not even a word about Baran.” Her comment makes everyone laugh.

You butt in on Trinity’s words. “Well, apparently he didn’t stop talking about me to Baran’s parents or his other grandparents. Was really fun to have his father tell me that when we met for the first time. Also, I love that my estranged-parents-in-law spent the whole time hearing about their daughter’s partner.” You laugh with your friends.

As Baran finishes her plate, she moves to wrap her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to lean a little awkwardly against her. You kiss her hand, and her hand then starts toying with the collar of your blouse. You smile over at her, a clear glimmer of love visible to your friends.

Tori chimes in from between Samira and Trinity, “Kiss, kiss!” You glare at her.

“One, I won’t be peer pressured by you, Barney girl. Two, you’ve all already seen us kiss.” “And then some.” Cassie whines out with a grimace, making everybody glance curiously at her.

Baran chimes in, “You don’t want or need to know.” Her cheeks already glow at the memory. “Let’s just say it was not the ideal way to meet your sister-in-law.” Baran concludes for the group, hoping they somewhat catch the hint.

You turn to Baran, ready to change the subject, and ask, “What do you say, Joon, wanna put on a show for Vic?” You smirk. “I don’t know, I’m their boss?” “Yes, but they’ve all seen us…— or worse before, and you’re no longer Vic’s attending.”

Baran grumbles, rolling her eyes at you. You get up from your chair and straddle the hesitant Persian’s lap. Despite herself, she smiles at you, and her hands find your waist, steadying you.

“Hi, Azizam.” She can’t help but whisper as you smile down at her. Her eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and back, a soft, Alamo’s shy smile appears on her face.

You murmur, “Asheghetam.” Then you lean in to kiss her softly. Your tongue slips into her mouth automatically. Baran has to restrain herself from deepening the kiss. Her hands grip higher up your back, the linen of your shirt textured under her fingers, needing to distract herself from going too far. The others around you seem to fade away; you don’t hear anything but the low sounds of yourself and Baran.

Her hands, however soft, combined with the linen of the shirt, feel rough against your sunburned skin. This forces you to pull away as you take a sharp breath, masking the sting. Baran’s hands drop immediately.

She opens her eyes, and they apologetically find yours. “Sorry, My Love.” She says in a hushed tone, only for you to hear as she kisses your cheek, her lips certain and soft.

You give her a small shake of your head to signify that everything is okay. You peck her lips once more for good measure.

Then, the sound of someone’s water glass being set down on the table snaps you out of your focus. Suddenly, you’re reminded of the group you’re with; not that you’d forgotten about them entirely.

“Oh my God, you guys! That was so cute, sexy, and wholesome.” Victoria exclaims to you and Baran, super excited by the sight.

Cassie and Samira eye your back, where Baran’s fingers had pressed moments before you cut the kiss short.

You get off of Baran, feigning stretching your back to ease the indent of Baran’s fingers. Baran stands beside you, softly rubbing your back with barely there caresses. She then asks everyone to bring their plates to the kitchen and tells them there are popsicles in the freezer that she thinks will be lovely on the patio with drinks.

As you’re all in the kitchen, Baran orderly stacks the plates in the sink to soak. You had neatly put all the utensils you used for cooking in the dishwasher. You had left the cheesy-risotto residue in the pan submerged with water on the stove, in hopes of easy cleaning after your friends leave.

You hand out popsicles, with little added sugar and mostly real fruit. Mango, strawberry, or pear. You grab one for yourself and Baran: a pear and a strawberry, you had noticed she liked to switch to a pear after having half of a strawberry— ‘It’s too sweet’, she’d told you when you called her out.

Meanwhile, Baran leads your friends back to the table to grab their drinks before showing them to the patio. Knowing your brunette would grab your wineglass, you slip onto the patio from the kitchen, extra bottle of wine in hand.

You set the bottle on the table before taking a seat on the bench. Baran had gotten pillows for the patio furniture from the garage earlier; ‘to zhuzh up the patio’s vibes’ she had told you.

You stretch out, pillow behind your back and feet resting on the table as you unwrap your two popsicles.

Mel walks out first, patting your back and commenting about you double-fisting popsicles. You flinch at the touch, making Victoria come over and yank your shirt down.

“Dude, what the fuck!!” You exclaim, tugging your shirt down to cover yourself.

Sadly, the damage had been done; Victoria, Trinity, and Dennis had seen your sunburned back.

Trinity whistles lowly, “Damn, Baby. Did your girlfriend let you outside without sunscreen?” You stammer out half a response while everyone sits around you.

Dennis, as he sits down, eyes the sunbeds, your towels still on them. He connects the dots and tries to get the others’ attention, hoping they connect the dots the same way.

“Ooooh, you fucked in the yard. Fresh bruises and a sunburn.” Dennis can’t help but theorize out loud. “You so did!” Samira eggs them on. You just shake your head in denial.

Victoria starts softly, barely audible, until Trinity joins her. Before long, five of your six guests are chanting, “Fucking in the garden! Fucking in the garden!”

You, albeit a little awkwardly, laugh along with your friends. Baran, who had since come to sit between you and the edge of the bench, her legs crossing your lap, strawberry popsicle in hand, is bright red.

You know that there’s nothing truthful for you to say that will get Baran off the hook. Your free hand grips her thigh, just above her knee.

Cassie gives you a look, begging you to deny the allegations your friends and her coworkers are making. “We did not fuck in the garden, guys.” You dismiss, not particularly wanting to go into it.

Baran’s face is practically hidden in the crook of your neck, looking away from the group in embarrassment. “Oh, do you prefer the term ‘make love’?” Mel asks good-naturedly, making you and a few others snicker softly.

You turn to look at Baran, her eyes grow timid as they meet your wicked smirk. You turn back to the group. “She wanted to, trust me. But I wasn’t interested in a chemical infection via sunscreen.” You laugh. “Or the neighbors seeing.” You add on, much to the amusement of your friends.

Baran turns impossibly redder, and you feel her cheeks burning against your shoulder. You reach for her chin, tilting her head so you can kiss her forehead— she wanted to keep PDA minimal after all, and you knew that kiss earlier was close to crossing the line.

“But I don’t love you any less, Eshgham.” You caress her cheek with your thumb, as she tries to decrease the blush by taking deep breaths. Her smile is soft and loving as you hold up the pear popsicle to her.

Cassie catches the tender moment and decides to draw attention to herself to change the subject. “Sooo, anyone have any tea—” Cassie looks at Victoria for confirmation; Victoria is nodding vigorously. “to share?”

Trinity perks up at the suggestion. “Huckleberry is finally going wild in his twunk era! He’s had more guys over the last week than times I’ve seen Yolanda at work.” She shares with a sad sigh.

This piques your interest. You reach over to toss your and Baran’s popsicle sticks on the table, whispering that you’ll clean the table in the morning— anticipating that Baran is about to tell you off. “Good for you, Finn. But Trinny, what’s the deal with Yolo now?”

You feel Baran shiver; the sun has started to set, and a warm wind blows over the patio, rustling the leaves of the sycamore. Your hand slides up Baran’s back, scratching her skin fondly, the touch drawing a small sigh from her.

Trinity rambles on about Yolanda, admitting that Garcia didn’t return her feelings, or at least wouldn’t admit it when Trinity asked her to. So, for her own emotional well-being, Trinity decided to call things off, favoring either a genuine relationship or a no-feelings friends-with-benefits arrangement.

Somewhere along the conversation, Baran is reminded of something. “Lovely, would you like to come on a work trip to LA with me? I have been invited to speak at a cyber conference because of the shit show that was July Fourth. And they want to highlight the importance of cyber experts in non-cyber fields.”

You turn your full attention to the woman, your guests momentarily forgotten. “When would it be, Golam?” You unintentionally lower your voice, the intimacy of the moment drawing you in.

She tells you it would be the third week of September, and they’re flying her out for three days while her panel only runs for half of the second day.

She leans in close and murmurs into your ear that you could go to UCLA to maybe start the procedure, if they decide to accept you. She can’t help herself and presses a small kiss beneath your ear before pulling away, the warmth of her breath lingering against your skin.

Glancing at your chosen family, her eyes settle back on you. “We could also consider visiting my parents, if you’re comfortable, of course.” Baran suggests in a tone that the others can hear.

You nod at her words, smiling widely. You know that despite her having an estranged relationship with her parents, she would still like to introduce you, no matter the outcome.

You coo loudly, unable to help yourself. “Aw, Baby. You want me, your sapphic girlfriend, to meet your disapproving parents. That’s so sweet.” You chuckle before sobering your words a little, “If you would like that, I’ll happily do that, B.” You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anything for you, Azizam.” You wink.

As if it’s miles away, you can faintly make out the sounds of Victoria and Mel whining for a relationship like yours, their voices a distant, envious murmur in the background.

——————

Part 14 of My Little Sister?! Series <- Part 13 — Part 15 ->

Author’s note

I’m currently in LA for a few days: caught the tail end of LA pride, despite going on 4h of sleep and 24h of being over actively awake and sun burn :3 and no food between lunch and breakfast next morning.

+ day 2: big day out at Big Bear and Arrowhead, and saw at Philippines heritage night at the Dodgers :))

Be nice!

Like, reblog, comment, interact, all that good shit 💕

xx Liz

——————

You are gently woken up just before 7 AM the next morning. With a foggy brain, you try to figure out what woke you, though it’s too early for you or your partner to be up on her day off.

Your back is turned to Baran, and her left hand is barely holding on to your boob, softly kneading the tender tissue— the warmth of her palm seeping into your skin, the faint scent of the bath soap lingering between you. 

You hear soft sighs coming from behind you— her warm breath ghosting against your neck. 

You fear Baran may be having a nightmare— she has had a few so far, mostly work/Kabul related— the haunted, distant look in her eyes after you help her wake up from them, still fresh in your mind. 

You carefully turn to your girlfriend, your movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle her, in case she’s half awake.

As you turn to face her, Baran’s hand fully cups your boob. You feel her blunt nails pressing into your soft flesh— each crescent a delicious contrast against your skin. . 

Your gaze first falls to her face, quickly assessing her— without possibly waking her.

Her mouth is barely open, her chest rises and falls quickly, and you can practically feel the puffs of air escaping her lips— each breath warm against your skin.  

Her eyes are hooded;  you can’t tell whether they’re focused on anything in the dark room. The dim light coming through the blinds doing barely enough to see through the cast shadows.  

You carefully exhale, a quiet sigh escaping your lips, relaxing as she doesn’t appear to be having a nightmare. 

Only now do you feel her right arm, the one you’re almost pressed up against, moving in a slow, rhythmic pattern. 

You subtly look down, your breath held, not trying to wake her or be caught by your love. 

You can’t help but let out a small gasp as you realize what is going on. 

Beside you, in the curtained darkness of your bedroom, Baran is quietly masturbating. The musky scent of her arousal is thick in the air, finally hitting your nose. 

At the mere sight of her index and middle fingers playing with her clit a jolt of arousal shoots through you, shocking you fully awake. You slide your hand up your body to softly hold Baran’s on your breast, your skin prickling with anticipation, letting her know you’re awake without startling her. 

Her head snaps to you immediately, her unfocused eyes suddenly locking onto yours. Her fingers still between her thighs. She lets out a labored breath. 

Your voice, rough from sleep, can not help the hurt creeping in as you whine: “Baby, why are you doing this on your own?” 

She feigns innocence, poorly disguising what she had been up to. “Doing what, Darling?” She murmurs, trying to settle her uneven breath. 

You reach your hand across her body. Your hand trails down her stomach, over the dip of her pubic bone, to the apex of her thighs. Your fingers feel the heat radiating from her core as they near. 

A sharp breath hisses through her teeth as your fingers brush past her swollen clit. Your fingers slip through her folds with ease, she’s already soaking wet.

“Why did you not wake me, Baby?” You huff, turning onto your side to half-lie on her and find her lips. Before Baran can respond, you tease two fingers along her entrance, your thumb teasingly prodding her clit, making her whine out. 

She does her best to stabilize her breathing, knowing she caused this reaction by not involving you right away. “I had a hot dream, and it woke me. Then I saw you— felt you. You were so comfortably sleeping, I couldn’t wake you, but you just looked so pretty. I couldn’t help myself, but then you turned away from me.“ 

Her fingers release and regrip your boob, a little tighter. “So I decided to hold you and just get it over with.” She admits softly. “I didn’t want to annoy you, Aziz.”

Your lips ghost along her jugular vein, leaving little nips that make her breath catch as you slip two fingers into her dripping cunt. “Lovely, I’d rather you use me while I’m asleep or you just wake me up to please you. Helping you cum will never— and I mean never, be annoying. It’s one of the few things you may actually interrupt me for at any time.” You grin, bringing her in for a toothy kiss. 

You curl your fingers into that lovely spongy part inside her, making her toes curl. “Fuck, Khoshgel. Oh my.” She whines out as your thumb nudges her clit a bit more intentionally. 

A giant smile takes over your face. Watching your partner; freshly awoken, hair a mess, in the thrall of euphoria at your touch. She was not lying when she said getting herself off would be quick. Her walls are already quivering around your fingers.

You pull back, eyes pitch dark, pupils blown wide as you look at her beautiful face. Your fingers still as your eyes trace along the freckles on her cheeks, the light curve of her lips as she muffles back a whimper, the soft crows' feet by her eyes as they’re nearly squeezed shut in enjoyment. 

“You look gorgeous, Baran. You are without a doubt my favorite sight to wake up to.” You confess before effortlessly finding her pulse point with your teeth, your thumb rubbing her clit, and your fingers rubbing her cunt in more than the right way. 

She moans softly as her walls clamp down on your fingers, more of her wetness covering your hand and her vulva. 

It wasn’t anywhere near the most explosive orgasm she’s had, but it was definitely one she needed. After the long week she’d had, and the lack of emotional intimacy you’d shared during intercourse since. 

You gently ease her down, fingers still slowly sliding in and out of her slick heat. “More, Pretty Girl?” You whisper, your voice think with desire, staying in your own little world. 

She shakes her head with a soft sigh and pulls you into her chest. “Cuddle.” She whispers, her her strong arms wrapping around you. You carefully slip your fingers back into her warmth, grabbing her hip to ground her. 

“I love you, Golam.” Baran mumbles, her voice sleepy, trying to merge your bodies into one. “I love you more, My Love. If you promise to involve me next time, I’ll let you put your baby in me.” You tease, pressing a lingering kiss to her chest. 

Baran cards her fingers through your hair, as you feel her breathing slow to match your own. “For real?” “I’d never lie about such things, Baranam.” You say earnestly, your eyelids growing heavy, eyes falling closed with sleep once more. 

Her fingers cease their movement in your hair as you, like her, fall back to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, both of you falling into a comforting, warm slumber

—

You groan as sleep reluctantly leaves your body, a sudden chill sweeping through your upper body as your brain finally registers that your Baran isn’t beside you— pressed against you. You do, however, feel a weighted warmth between your thighs. Maybe Baran is lying diagonally again? You think to yourself, assuming she’s likely drinking tea, but you’re too far from the nightstand for her to be laid comfortably next to you. 

So you decide to roll over to her, only to be pulled down by your arm. Just now you notice your arms are stretched out over the pillows. They seem to be tied to the bed, as you can conclude by the rough sisal rope rubbing around your wrists. 

Your eyes shoot open, and you look up at your wrists. Yup. Precise knots bind you to the bed frame. 

A light tickling touch down south pulls your attention from your wrists. Looking down you understand why you were chilly, yet your legs were warmer—  you assumed the duvet was responsible. But, no. 

Between your thighs is Baran, hair messily pulled up. You can’t help but smile at the messy mop of perfect curls on her head. The sight of her hair like that; so domestic, unkept, and personal, a total contrast to Baran away from her home.   

“Hi, Joonam. I got a little bored while you were sleeping, I hope you don’t mind?” She purrs with a hungry smile, leaning in to nuzzle your folds. 

The sight of her bright, dilated eyes, soft yet hungry smile, the feeling of restraint of the rope, and the pressure of her arms around your waist. It is all too much yet nowhere near enough. 

Some combination of a coo and a whine escapes you. “Fuck— uhh— yeah.” Your hips buck up to her, making her tighten her hold on them. “Shirin, what’s going on?” You ask, willing your brain to clear the sleep quicker, arms tugging on the rope in question.

“I thought I’d thank you for yesterday, earlier, and all of last week, honestly. But I can’t have you pushing me away or trying to return the favor.” She grins, huffing hot air at your core. 

You lightly tug at the rope— likely some of the sisal rope you’d bought to make a scratching post for Mop.  

You whine, not knowing what you can do really. “Mommyyyyy” “Hush, Darling, I’ll make you feel so good. But we have to keep it down a bit— Pesar is watching cartoons in the TV room.” She purrs back, going for a leisure lick up your folds, tongue swirling around your clit. 

She’s clearly been down there for a while, you’re more worked up than your sleepy brain can explain. 

She makes you come on her tongue in what feels like seconds, it could be hours— you have no clue. 

The only thing you do know is that you want to touch her— no, you need to. You need your hands on her face, in her hair. So you start tugging on the rope.   

You keep tugging at the rope; eventually, it starts to chafe, but you desperately want to touch her. 

The rope burns into your skin as Baran forces another orgasm out of you in no time. Her lips wrapped around your clit, expertly knowing how to drive you insane. 

You try to stop squirming as she goes to overstimulate you, or at least try to stop using your arms— the rope genuinely hurting now. It does not work. 

“Fire!” 

You whimper, both your wrists raw, stinging at every small tremble going through your body. 

The second the phrase leaves your lips, Baran pulls back: stopping, dropping, and rolling away. Concerned eyes look you up and down, assessing the situation. 

“Talk to me, Aziz. What can I do for you?” She snaps into a near-professional mode. 

Despite Baran no longer touching you, you continue to jerk your wrists— a fight-or-flight action taking over, trying to rip yourself from the source of your pain. 

Tears start welling in your eyes, the pain, overstimulation, and embarrassment all catch up. “Rope. Burns.” You say breathlessly, grinding your teeth to keep from really crying. 

The moment Baran knows what you need, she’s quick to untie you. Sitting herself higher up the bed, she pulls you into her arms, whispering soft apologies as she rocks you. 

You hiss as the abraded skin of your wrists makes contact with her sides, while wrapping yourself around her. “I’m so sorry, My Love. I should have thought it through better.” She murmurs, brushing your hair. 

Your tears wet her chest, where your face is nestled. “I’m sorry for safe-wording, I could have just said something.” You sniffle back. 

“No, Princess. I’m so proud that you safe-worded. You did so well for me, Baby. You were clear in telling me when it was too much.” She kisses the top of your head.

“In a bit, when you feel up to it, we’ll take a quick shower to clean you up. Then I’ll put some antibiotic ointment on your wrists and wrap them up, okay? And after that, we will have breakfast in the yard and enjoy the sun all day long. Okay, Lovely?” She shares her plan. 

You sigh out, nodding against her chest with a soft hum. “You looked really pretty earlier, I really wanted to touch your face.” You mumble into her collarbone. 

She coos at that. “Baby, you could have just said that. I love it when you tell me what you want, even if you may not get it.”

She moves a little so your face is closer to hers. She kisses your cheek. “You took such good care of me this morning, I just knew I needed your divine taste on my tongue. The noises you made when you were in me earlier drove me mad.”

—

After the shower, she did as she said, taking care of your wrists. She then made breakfast as you made tea for the three of you. During which Arya happily recounted what happened on the Power Rangers episodes he’d watched earlier. 

You and Arya wae making a puzzle in the living room as Baran is doing something in the kitchen, you think. 

“So why can’t we let Mop outside yet?” Arya asks curiously, looking at Mop over by the patio door, wanting to leave. “Because Mop likely doesn’t know this is her home yet. Cats need three weeks to get used to the scent of a house before they can find it. If Mopulent went outside now, she’d probably walk back to my apartment, no matter how far away it is.” You explain before Arya cuts you off. 

“But we smell the same as at the apartment, isn’t that enough?” He suggests, looking sadly at the cat desperate to go outside. “Maybe, but I’d rather not risk losing her. And also, Mop has never been an outside kitty. She may get hurt or stuck in a tree, you know. We want to take it slowly.” You further explain, and this placates Arya’s thoughts. 

The doorbell rings, and the boy bounces over to open it, greeting his dad, before allowing him to step into the house. 

“Baba, I’m almost ready to go. Just need to help clean up and say goodbye.” You hear Arya tell his father as he leaves him behind in the hall. 

Arya is quick to help you roll up the puzzle mat and place the box and mat on a shelf, to be made when he returns in a few days. 

He then heads to the kitchen to say goodbye to Baran. You hear some animated sounds from the pair before he returns to you. He quickly walks toward the white cat, still by the patio door. “Mîbînamet, Moppie.” He pats her fur softly before marching your way. 

Taking your hand, Arya brings you to the foyer to check if he has everything he needs. “Maman is making iced chāi for you. Enjoy.” He smirks, his excitement for the tea clouding his jealousy of not getting any. 

“Okay, Bun, you have your favorite bunny in your backpack and To Kill a Mockingbird; I think you have everything you need. Otherwise, your dad will let B know, and we’ll figure it out, alright?” You tell the boy after crouching down to his eye level. 

He wraps his arms around your neck. “Okay, Hamsar. I love you and I’ll miss you!” He says, kissing your cheek. “Doostet dāram, Ari. See you in a few days, Sweetie.” You ruffle his hair, pulling away. 

His dad gives you both a raised eyebrow, confused by the name Arya called you— apparently, he exclusively refers to you by your name or as his maman’s girlfriend when you’re not around. 

You sheepishly look at your partner’s ex-husband. “I’m not— we’re not. Ari just likes calling me Baran’s wife, and it’s kinda endearing.” You wink at the boy, causing him to giggle. The young boy takes his father’s hand and pulls him out of the house. “Love you mostest, Hamsar!” He cheers as they reach the car. 

You shake your head and close the door. Curious as to what your girlfriend is getting up to, you make your way to the kitchen. 

—

You wrap your arms around the woman, leaning your chin on her shoulder. “Pesar said something about iced chāi. I have no idea what the fuck to imagine with that, honestly. Other than maybe cold tea.” You admit with a giggle. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d deserved a treat. It’s black tea with cardamom, honey, and rose water, chilled and with added ice cubes. But it’s definitely no sweet tea, Janeh Delam.” She says, mostly focused on the jug of warm liquid in front of her. 

You press a kiss to her neck. “I love you, you know.” You whisper just simply. This makes her turn away from her concoction, giving you a sideways look. “Any reason you remind me, or just because?” She poses, now fully turning to lean in for a kiss. 

“No, no real reason. Your son just left, and you’re making me his favorite drink, I think? And he was so happy for me to get it that he didn’t mind any of it being for him.” You speak against her lips with a wide smile. 

She tuts at your words. “Our son, Azizam. I need to speak with his baba about it, and I’ll sit Ari down and check in with him. But to me, he’s yours, nearly more than he’s mine, Baby.” She says, wide brown eyes sparkling as they bore into yours with so much love and adoration. 

“I want you to be his legal guardian. Legal step-parenting needs us to be married, and while I never intend to separate from you— ever. This could be done tomorrow. It would make you eligible to be considered a parent at school or, god forbid, for emergencies.” She confesses, like it’s a weight off her shoulders. 

Your eyes widen at her words, but you can’t help the smile that takes over. You kiss her, happily, cheerfully, and giggly. “Baby, has anyone ever told you, that you may be psychotic? Like, don’t get me wrong, it's hot, so attractive. But I doubt many people have moved in, practically proposed, and adopted a child within two months of dating.” You laugh, but are genuinely happy. 

“But are we the average person? No. You’re not average in any front.” Baran charms, turning in your hold to fully face you. “And I’m not psychotic, though it could be a severe side effect while on Keppra. I’m just so in love with you it drives me a little crazy at times.” She stills mid-shake of her head, her eyes bleeding into yours, just enamored by you. 

“You know great linguists would write epics about the way you look at me. And I just might start writing too. Your presence and your eyes give me more than enough passion to try my unqualified hand at it. I could write essays about the nations I’d fight for just a single moment with you, Eshgham.” Your thumb brushes her cheek, making her smile brighten even more at your tender touch.  

—

Baran had sent you upstairs to grab sunscreen and your book and asked you to grab her iPad from her office. You hadn’t been in the room much— to be fair neither had Baran since you’d been around. But you were astounded by the contrasting aesthetic of the room compared to the rest of the house. 

The office had a dark academia style to it. Mahogany wood framed nearly every inch of the room. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, nearly covering all four walls, except for the windows. A solid, likely over 200 kg mahogany table placed centrally. And a few glass tables on metal frames. Yet the room has no shortage of bright colors, in the form of the endless medical books on the shelves. 

There was even a fireplace— clearly decommissioned— with a small sofa in front of it, on top of a pretty, yet worn Persian rug. 

You’d almost call the office a waste, knowing that Baran couldn’t really work from home, so she rarely used it. But you assume it almost came like this when she bought the house, she’d told you she barely changed anything around the house— due to a lack of time or need to. 

You quickly spot the iPad on the desk. Grabbing it, you turn it on to check the charge, 87% should be fine. Her lock screen shows a sleeping you and Arya, taken after her nightshift a few weeks ago. However, the iPad automatically unlocks, of course, the cyber trained doctor would believe she’s too good for a passcode.

The iPad opens on her email, and your eyes can’t help but fall on the subject line: ‘human experimental in vitro gametogenesis and fertilization’, and the email was sent from a University of California, Los Angeles account. Now curious, you read a few sentences, however, much more than the greeting the other person sent goes over your head. 

You turn the iPad off, and you’ll just ask Baran later. You never really went deeper into talking about wanting kids, other than during sex and affirming the notions while you were cuddled up after or something of the sort. 

—

Walking back to the living room, you see Baran out in the backyard, lugging a second sunbed from the garage. You want to go help her but freeze as she drops the bed onto the grass: she’s topless. 

Stepping onto the patio, you hesitantly ask, “Babe, what happened to your shirt?” She looks up, a little startled, a wide smile meeting your gaze. “We’re tanning— or well, enjoying the sun while pretending to read and keep my hands off you— I don’t want tan lines.” 

She waves you down to the grass. Only now your eyes land on the side table, overfilled with little bites and bits of fruits and vegetables. Under the table, out of the sun, you see the jug of iced chāi and two glasses with straws, all covered with cling film— to keep the wasps out. 

You put the iPad and sunscreen on Baran’s bed, matching blue-purple hibiscus-print towels on the beds. You go to sit on your bed, but before you can lean back, Baran straddles your legs. You look at her challengingly, “I thought you were keeping your hands to yourself?” 

She shakes her head. “Never, with you, My Love.” She grins, knowing you called her bluff and were right. “But I need your shirt off.” She continues, hands softly tugging on your shirt. “But I’m not wearing anything underneath this.” You try to explain, but Baran just rolls her eyes playfully. 

“So? It’s just me here, not that Ari would care if he were here.” She says, lifting your shirt. “And what about your neighbors? Won’t they see?” You ask in worry as she carefully tugs the shirt over your face. 

“Let them. We can do as we please in the privacy of our own home and garden, Khoshgelam. The only part of you I want covered, is your wrists.” She concludes, pressing a kiss to your somewhat stunned face as she drops your shirt to the ground beside your bed. 

She makes you lie back, taking her time to cover every inch of the front of your body— she'll do your back when you want to turn around, so the sunscreen doesn’t wipe off on the towel. Her hands thoroughly rub your breasts. 

She gets off of you, sitting in front of you in the middle of the chaise. Her hands smear the lotion over your stomach— fingers dipping into your underwear for complete coverage. Her fingers trace your abdomen, it reminds you of the email you saw. “B?” You start, pulling her attention from your thighs, that she’s rubbing. 

“I saw something when I grabbed your iPad, and though I liked biology in high school and college, not everything stuck. I saw an email from UCLA, and I think it was about IVF, but most words turned into a jumble as I read it.” You admit to having read her email and not really understanding it. 

Baran nods silently and finishes covering the front of your body. “That’s about right, Darling. They’re doing research into making spermatozoa from stem cells and then, through that, with IVF make embryos.” She explains as you take the sunblock and start working on her skin. 

“Okay… I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but you work in emergency medicine, Babe. So my mind is only going to one thing, really.” You point out. Baran nods her head proudly at your deduction. “They started trialing with couples willing to try or needing IVG to have genetic children earlier this year. However, it’ll be a few years before its outcome can be considered safe and for public use.” She goes on as you smear cream on her arms.

You lean in for a quick kiss, going on to rub her torso. “So I asked them to look into possibly taking another couple, two women specifically. And if we could do most of the process at a clinic near us rather than fly out to LA for everything.” Baran informs you, a nervous blush covering her cheeks. 

Your eyes light up at the idea. This way, you would get to have your own kid while also possibly helping others in the future. Your cheeks turn bright red. “I love you so much, Baranam. And I can’t wait for a Shabnam. But next time, do tell me when you’re planning something like this. I was this close to asking your ex to consider being our sperm donor so our babies would at least be similar to Arya and you in ethnicity.“ You laugh, holding your thumb and index finger millimeters apart. 

“Well, I am glad you didn’t. I’d first like to try making a girl that is half you and half me.” Baran whispers, her sunscreen hands sticky on your sides. “Also, how do you know the Persian word for dewdrop?” She asks, proud yet confused. 

You grin, pointing to Arya’s bedroom. “He was reading a kids’ book to me. I could follow along with the pictures, but ‘Shabman’ I couldn’t make out. So he told me, and then I concluded that’d be a little Baran: rain taken up by the earth and brought out by the light and spread through the wind.” 

Baran grips your jaw, pulling you in for a wet kiss. You don’t hesitate to straddle the brunette, deepening the kiss. You push her down, lying on the foot of the lounger. “And two seconds ago, you were afraid of going topless?” Baran laughs humorously, her hand gripping the base of your head— keeping your lips on hers. 

Her other hand slides down your stomach, holding your hip. “Sorry that my morals go out the window the moment the other genetic mother of my future children tells me it’s actually a possibility.” You kiss the edge of her jaw. She plays with the waistband of your panties, you shake your head, pulling back. 

“I’m not letting you finger me with sunscreen on your hand, Deldaram. That’s a UTI or irritation waiting to happen.” She throws her head back and groans in frustration. “But Asalam, please.” She almost whines in response. 

You just shake your head before bringing your lips to Baran’s neck, leaving soft kisses, barely coloring the canvas that is her throat. Until Baran starts playing with your pussy over your underwear— sneaky thing. You sink your teeth into her skin as a reaction.

Your teeth and tongue worry the section of her neck, as an expression of your overwhelming feelings: love, lust, and, most importantly, excitement. 

Baran’s fingers grip your hips as she lets out a small moan at your teeth against her submandibular area. You have a go at her neck for a minute before realizing you are in fact practically naked. You pull away slowly, eyes a little dazed, you sigh out. 

Baran holds your head from pulling too far, her smouldering eyes meet yours as they flutter open. Despite the sun blazing down, you can see her pupils dilate a tiny bit. She directs your lips to hers in a soft kiss. 

“Asheghetam, Darling.” She murmurs mid-kiss before giggling and helping you back up, needing to finish applying sunscreen. 

“Baby.” You say with guilty eyes. “Yes, Dear?” Baran asks, handing you the sunscreen to continue where you left off. “There may or may not be a substantial love bite on your neck…” You fess up, humorous and guiltily.

Baran rolls her eyes with a smile, clearly more amused than annoyed. “Get me an ice cube from the chāi; let’s try to minimise the damage while we still can.” She shakes her head, she should have expected this to happen. 

You hand her an ice cube and make quick work of covering her with sunscreen. You give her an awkward smile before she kisses you, telling you it’s fine, and moves to her own lounger. 

You turn on music on your phone, some poppy sapphic playlist you occasionally listen to while running. Mindful of wanting to read, the phone is on low volume. 

Baran holds out your glass of tea, making you take a sip. “No dehydration, Love.” You take it and place it under your bed after taking a sip. 

You take her outstretched hand, struggling to open your book with one hand— yet you manage. Baran closes her eyes, just basking in the sun, music, and your touch. 

mi amor/hayati by FOX GUNN starts playing, you softly hum along. Baran’s ears strain, trying to pick up the lyrics of the song. 

“That song is scary accurate to us, Baby.” She laughs, opening her eyes to admire you. “But ‘hayati’ is only a term of endearment in Arabic; I don’t speak much of it, my parents taught us more Persian. Its meaning, however, isn’t lost per se in Persian. We just say ‘joonam’, but ‘hayati’ means vital. That describes how essential you are to my life.” Baran cheeses, swinging your hands back and forth between you. 

You drop your book beside your head and quickly move over to Baran’s lounger. “I love you, you cheesy fuck.” You kiss her softly before lying on top of her, your head on her shoulder, looking up at her. 

Her hand brushes your back. “Just so you know, you proposing would be less cheesy than that just now.” You laugh, joking at how sappy it was. “I promised your sister to wait at least till the new year, Golam.” Baran chuckles, her hands squishing the skin of your back. “We didn’t put lotion on your back; you’re going to burn, Baby.” You can hear the frown in her voice. 

“Do you want me to get off of you?” She shakes her head at your question. “Well, then let me enjoy five minutes here; I’ll bear the heightened risk of skin cancer, please.” 

Baran holds you like that until Hymn for Her by Ames finishes playing. She then scoots to the side, making a bit more space on the bed, pulling you on your back beside her. 

Her hand comes to rest on your sternum, lightly tracing the skin as you both doze off. 

——

You and Baran step back into the bedroom, all tired out by the sunlight, eager for a shower together. 

Baran softly kisses the nape of your neck. “Your back is indeed a little burned, Golam.” She whispers, fingers tracing the inflamed skin, leaving light streaks in their wake, proving her point. “Worth it.” You declare, knowing that she’ll massage aloe lotion on your back after your shower. 

“Baranam, could we invite some guests over for dinner? I feel like having adult company tonight. Otherwise, I may want you to fuck me senseless and skip dinner.” You suggest as you walk into your en-suite to shower. 

“Of course, Lovely. But I have to admit, I don't hate the sound of the alternative.” She husks into your ear as she presses her front flush against your back. Her hands are palming your boobs as she mouths along your sternocleidomastoid muscle. 

“Watch yourself, Baby.” You say with a serious tone, and Baran just chuckles it off. “Uuh, Trin and Yolo? But I don't want to have them fighting in our house.” You suggest and answer yourself.

Baran shakes her head on your neck. “Nope, they're still keeping it casual. Whatever the fuck they mean by that.” Baran kisses your neck again as you chuckle at her words. 

“Mira, Mel, Tori, and Cass are all single. So we either invite a pair over or try to get a double date with Whitsantos.” You offer. 

Baran hums in question, “I thought Samira was seeing that attending surgeon, the one who bickers with Abbot whenever they see each other?” Baran points out. 

Now it's your turn to shake your head. “No, but Mira has one hell of a crush on Doctor Emery Walsh.” Your hands mime out a rainbow, making Baran snicker at the action. “But good to know there's substance from both sides.”

“We could invite Doctor Ellis or Langdon and their respective partner?” Baran suggests, you can only bark out a laugh at that. 

“Baby, Lovey, no. No way in hell are we inviting that man to our house. I'm cool with him at your work, but that's about it. He traumatized and pariahed one of my best friends and got away with multiple crimes. And Parker is way too cool for us. And I know nothing about her girlfriend— wife; maybe the woman has told me nothing over the years. But I'll try to corner them at the staff barbecue, yeah?” You propose while typing out a text on your phone. 

Baran just nods at your words. “Are we not cool? Am I not hip enough?” She asks with a hint of insecurity. You immediately turn to face her as the words leave her mouth. 

“Eshgham, you're the coolest. Sure, you're a bit geeky and a stickler for rules, but that's also admirable and cute. But I more meant myself. I didn't go to a fancy college, and I'm not a doctor. And I don't have the could-not-care-less-unless-I-care swagger Parker has.” 

You hold her face, phone limp in your other hand, looking in her sleep-filled eyes. “No one's cooler than you, Love. But asking if you're hip makes you sound like a boomer, and you're very much a millennial, My Love. And I absolutely love that about you.” You admit, warmth in your stomach growing at the blush and smile on your lover’s face. 

Baran leans in for a kiss, and you happily oblige. Keeping it short, however, you still need to shower if you're having guests over for dinner. 

Pulling away with a heavy sigh, you text your group chat, knowing it’s easier to just invite all and hope for some to decline. 

Funnest Day Residents(+Crash&BetterSister)

Hiiii B and I want to host a dinner party tonight  Lmk if you can make it!! Come by around 7pm? (you losers have to get your own booze, we don’t keep any in the house :3) Count me in!! (S) Yes please🧡🧡 (M) Can the twink cum? (T) Jesus Trin (V) Free food Ill be there💕 (V)  Yes the twink is welcome You two are attached at the hip  B even said he's always welcome?!?? Okay, two cars headed to you tonight. Who's in for a beer-wine(?) run with me? (C) Cool so there's 8 of us 😅 Wine, white preferred! Making risotto :p

“Shirin, we’re having a whole circus over for dinner. I'm so sorry; I was expecting at least two to decline the offer.” You step back into her hold. She gracefully wraps her arms around you. “It's fine, Mama; as long as we have enough to feed them all.” 

You look up at her from her shoulder, where you automatically rest your head. “Yeah, I may or may not have thought of this when Ari and I went to do groceries yesterday.” You smirk at the olive-skinned woman, she can't help but give you an amused smile. 

——————

Part 13 of My Little Sister?! Series <- Part 12 — Part 14 ->

Author’s note

Most is based on fact, and the UCLA IVG-IVF thing is the most coherent stuff I could find in the USA-academic world, but I have no clue how far they are in said research :)

I promise, I thought of this before I saw this beautiful sketch made by Ed. But they practically brought my mental image to life!

Like, reblog, comment, interact, all that good shit 💕

xx Liz