ᛪ༙

her gaze locks for half a second, that stare you used to catch across the kitchen table back when things were good, or at least not shattered. then she looks away fast, turning to the chart in her hands like it’s the most important thing in the room. no nod, no acknowledgment. just the quick cut of her eyes to the side, jaw tightening a fraction.

ok, wow. you definitely did not expect to see her here, or maybe you did. deep down you knew that one day you’d be doomed. your stomach twist and you want to turn around and walk away. you know you can’t, unfortunately. this is your job after all.

you knew there was going to be a new attending replacing robby. what you didn’t know is that the so called new attending was your fucking ex-wife. perfect.

you swallow it down and head straight in, grabbing gloves from the cart. the ER’s already picking up with a trauma call crackling over the intercom. mvc, multiple victims, eta three minutes. everyone moves. you fall into the rhythm because that’s what keeps you sane here. but your eyes keep drifting back to her.

she’s directing a med student with her calm, measured voice, no raised volume, just authority that cuts clean. composed. always so fucking composed.

you step up beside her at bay three. “dr. al-hashimi,” you say, keeping it even, professional enough for the techs hovering nearby. “bay three’s got the mvc coming in hot. you want me on airway or you taking lead?”

she glances over again, slower this time. her mouth presses into a thin line before she answers. “you handle the airway. i’ll run primary survey. let’s see if the team’s as sharp as robby claims.” her tone is neutral, but there’s that faint softness threading through, the one that used to soften for you when she’d come home exhausted and lean into you on the couch. now it just feels more like a wall.

she looks away again, focusing on the incoming gurney, but her fingers flex once at her side.

the patient crashes through the doors and it’s controlled chaos. sirens still echoing, family shouting from the hall that security’s trying to contain. blood everywhere, monitors alarming, the guy’s airway closing fast. you move in, tube ready, your hands steady from years of this.

baran’s right there with you, calling out orders without hesitation. “hold pressure tighter on that bleed. get that tube in before sats drop. someone page neuro if he seizes.” her voice stays level, but you catch the way she watches your every move. evaluating. or maybe remembering how you used to sync up perfectly, back when you were married and your schedules felt like something you tackled together instead of against each other.

you get the tube in clean, confirm placement, and the room exhales a little. baran nods once, curt. “good. now fluids wide open. let’s get him stable for ct.” the team hustles and you step back to chart quick notes, heart still pounding from the adrenaline.

she peels her gloves off beside you, tossing them with precision. her shoulder brushes yours for a moment as she reaches for a fresh chart, and neither of you pulls away immediately. tension sits heavy, unspoken words from the divorce. her burying herself in work, you resenting the distance. you’d fight about it, her shutting down, you pushing until it all exploded.

“you haven’t lost your edge,” she says after a minute, low enough that only you hear. she’s staring at the monitor readings, not you.

you let out a short breath, almost a laugh but too bitter. “yeah? high praise coming from the new attending. didn’t expect to see you back in pittsburgh. va not progressive enough for you anymore?”

she huffs, crossing her arms, a stubborn set to her shoulders. “needed the volume. pittsburgh is trying to modernize. i can push that here.” a pause, her eyes flicking to your face finally. “didn’t know you’d still be here. r3 now. i know you worked hard for it.”

the words are polite on the surface, but the undercurrent drags. like she’s measuring how much you’ve moved on without her. it stings, because part of you hasn’t. the fights echo in your head, her saying she couldn’t keep dragging you through her schedule and her condition, you accusing her of never letting you in, of hiding everything behind that composed front. the silence after the papers were signed had been worse than the yelling.

another page cuts in, pulling you both toward the next mess. a kid with a nasty laceration from some backyard accident. you work side by side again, her advocating hard when the social worker suggests sending the family home too quick. “he needs observation upstairs. malnutrition signs, possible neglect. i’m not discharging until we rule it out.” her voice is firm, that strong patient advocate streak shining through.

you back her up without thinking, adding details from your exam. she gives you a small nod after, but it feels loaded. thanks mixed with something sharper. resentment? the way you used to call her out for overworking until her seizures got worse, and she’d pull away harder.

you catch her in the break room later, staring into a cup of coffee like it owes her answers. jacket off, hair still perfect but her eyes tired. you hesitate at the door, then step in, grabbing water from the fridge. the room’s too quiet compared to the ER chaos outside.

“first day like you expected?” you ask, leaning against the counter opposite her. trying for casual, but your voice cracks just a little on the end.

baran looks up, sets the cup down. her fingers tap once on the table. “busy. but that’s what i signed up for.” she studies you for a beat. “you seem settled here. you got a good team and robby runs it tight.”

settled. the word lands like a punch. you think about the empty apartment, the way her stuff slowly disappeared after the split, how you threw yourself into work to fill the gap. “settled enough. pays the bills and keeps me distracted.” you pause, then push. “look, if this is weird having me under you-”

she straightens, arms crossing again. that restrained emotional wall going up before cutting you off. “it’s not weird. we’re professionals. we handle it like adults.” but her eyes don’t match the words. they linger, searching your face like she’s looking for the cracks she left. “you think i planned this? showing up here like this? pittsburgh was the right move for my career. didn’t expect…” she trails off, glancing away. the silence stretches, filled with the distant beep of monitors.

you remember her distancing herself from you, refusing to let you in properly after years of good communication. it had felt like betrayal then. still does.

“expect what?” you press, quieter. your chest feels tighter. “expect your ex to still be here? wondering why we couldn’t make it work? you never let me help, baran. with any of it. the seizures, the hours, the way you’d shut down.”

her jaw clenches. she takes a step closer, voice dropping. “helping wasn’t your job. it was mine to manage. i didn’t want to drag you through my mess. and you resented it anyway. every late night, every time i prioritized my job for once.” her hand brushes the counter near yours, close but not touching. the air feels thick, charged with everything unsaid. regret, anger, that pull that never fully died. she looks away first. “doesn’t matter now. we focus on the work.”

you nod, but it doesn’t feel resolved. “yeah. okay.” the break room door swings open, santos poking in for coffee, and the moment shatters. you both head back out, shoulders brushing in the narrow hall. her arm against yours sends unwanted heat through you.

the day drags with more cases. an overdose that has baran pushing back against protocol, voice steady but insistent. “he’s stable enough for psych consult here, not some cell. find resources or i escalate.”

you watch her from across the room, that determination, the spine of steel everyone talks about. it’s the same fire that drew you in years ago, and the same one that burned everything down. you step in to help chart, covering a detail she missed in the handoff. she notices, gives you that subtle thanks in her eyes, but the tension lingers. every interaction feels like walking a wire.

near the end, you end up charting side by side at the station. elbows almost touching, the hum of the ER never stopping. pagers going off, voices overlapping. she leans in to point at your screen, close enough you catch her shampoo again. “adjust that dose. kidneys aren’t great on this one.” her breath is warm near your ear, neither moves away. the contact burns with old familiarity and new frustration.

“got it,” you mutter, typing the change. “you’re still good at catching small stuff.”

baran straightens but stays close. “someone has to be.” a beat. “you did good today. on the mvc. quick thinking.” it’s praise, but it carries weight. like she’s fighting not to say more. the divorce, the way you both walked away pretending it was clean. her stubbornness hiding vulnerabilities, your resentment building until it snapped. now it’s all bleeding back in the pitt’s pressure cooker.

“thanks,” you say, voice rough. “you ran a solid primary. patients are lucky to have you pushing for them.” you hesitate, then add softer, “even if it means hiding your own stuff to stay in the game.”

her expression flickers, something vulnerable cracking through the composed front before she locks it down. “we all hide what we need to.” she pushes back from the desk eventually, grabbing her jacket. “i’ve got more charts. see you later.” her hand brushes your arm as she passes, light, gone too quick. you stay there, the station too loud and too empty at the same time.

the shift finally winds toward handover, but the ER doesn’t release you easy. another consult, a quick suture, baran stepping in once when you’re slammed. her presence is everywhere, pulling at every unresolved thread. you watch her head toward the nurse’s station, jacket slung over one arm, posture still straight despite the exhaustion.

the hours keep piling on and your skin feels too tight, every brush of her arm or shared glance twisting something raw in your gut. you can’t do this anymore. not with the way your pulse jumps every time she says your name in that clipped tone, not with the memory of your past still burned behind your eyelids.

you catch her alone near the supply hall, chart in hand, and you don’t think. you just grab her wrist, firm but not rough, and tug her toward the nearest supply room.

“what are you-“ she starts, but you’re already pulling her inside, the door clicking shut behind you. your hand finds the lock and turns it. the room is dim, shelves stacked with gauze and saline and sterile packs, the air cool and smelling faintly of plastic and antiseptic.

baran yanks her wrist free, stepping back until her back hits a shelf. her eyes are wide, her mask slipping just enough for you to see underneath. “this is not appropriate,” she says, voice low and tight. “we are at work. i am your attending.”

“yeah, and you’re also my ex-wife who’s been looking at me like you want to either kill me or fuck me since i clocked in,” you shoot back, stepping closer. your heart’s hammering so hard you can feel it in your throat. “we need to talk, baran. actually talk. not this professional bullshit where you pretend nothing’s there.”

she swallows, chin lifting like she’s steeling herself. “talking is what got us here in the first place. the fights, the distance-“ her words cut off when you close the gap, one hand bracing on the shelf beside her head. you can feel the warmth coming off her, see the quick rise and fall of her chest under that lilac top.

“then don’t talk,” you murmur, and kiss her.

it’s not soft. it’s months of missing her crashing down all at once, teeth and tongue and the sharp little sound she makes against your mouth. her hands come up to your shoulders like she’s going to push you away, but they fist in your scrubs instead, pulling you closer. for a second it’s just heat, her lips parting, her familiar taste flooding your senses. then she breaks it, turning her head, breathing hard.

“this is unethical,” she whispers, but her fingers are still twisted in your top. “we can’t. not here. the closet is no place for… this.”

you press your forehead to hers, hand sliding down to her waist, thumb brushing under the hem of her shirt. “tell me to stop and i will.” your voice is rough, barely holding together. “but i think you want this as bad as i do.”

she curses in farsi under her breath, you realize that you’ve missed hearing her talk in her mother tongue so bad. she squeeze her eyes shut for a beat. “you’re annoying.” but she doesn’t say stop. instead her hips shift forward just a fraction, like her body’s already deciding for her. you take it as permission, mouth finding her neck, sucking lightly at the spot you know makes her knees weak. her breath hitches, one hand sliding into your hair.

“fuck,” she breathes, head tipping back against the shelf. “we shouldn’t… god, i’ve missed this.” the admission slips out like she can’t hold it back anymore, and it undoes something in you. your hand moves lower, palming her through her scrub pants, feeling how warm she is. she rocks into your touch with a quiet groan, biting her lip to keep it down.

you slip your fingers under the waistband, slow at first, teasing along the edge of her underwear until she’s shifting restlessly. “tell me,” you say against her skin, voice low. “tell me you want me.”

baran’s eyes open, dark and glassy. she looks wrecked already, hair starting to come loose. “this is insane,” she mutters, but her legs part a little wider. “yes. fuck… yes. i want you.”

you push her underwear aside and slide two fingers through her folds, finding her soaked. she’s so wet it makes your head spin, the slick heat of her pulling a low sound from your throat. you circle her clit first, firm and steady, the way you remember she likes it, and her hips jerk forward. her hand grips your shoulder harder, nails digging in through your scrubs.

“quiet,” you remind her as you press one finger inside, then another, curling them just right. the tight, wet clench around your fingers makes you dizzy. baran’s mouth falls open, a shaky exhale escaping as she tries to keep some control.

“we have to be fast,” she gasps, even while she’s riding your hand, thighs trembling. “someone could… ah- need supplies.” but her words dissolve into another quiet moan when you thrust deeper, thumb pressing against her clit in tight circles. she’s gripping the shelf behind her now, knuckles white, head thrown back. the sight of her like this, composed dr. al-hashimi falling apart in a fucking supply closet, is almost too much.

you lean in, kissing her again to muffle the sounds, tongues sliding sloppy and desperate. your fingers keep moving, curling, stroking that spot inside her that always made her lose it. she’s clenching around you, slick dripping down your hand, her breaths coming faster against your mouth.

“that’s it,” you whisper between kisses. “come for me, baran.”

she shakes her head once, like she’s still fighting it, but her body’s betraying her completely. her hips move in little desperate rolls, chasing your fingers. “i’m- oh god, i’m close,” she admits, voice breaking on the words. the vulnerability in it sends heat through you, making you groan. she only ever let you see her like this, and you pray it stays that way.

you speed up just a little, thumb pressing harder on her clit, and she comes undone with a muffled cry against your shoulder, body shuddering hard. her walls pulse tight around your fingers, wet and rhythmic, thighs clamping down as she rides it out. you keep stroking her through it, gentler now, drawing it out until she’s trembling, little aftershocks making her whimper softly.

you stay there for another minute after she comes down from it, your fingers still buried in her, her forehead against your shoulder and her breathing slowly evening out. the supply room feels even smaller now, the faint buzz of the ER outside the door reminding you exactly where you are. baran’s hand is still wrapped around your wrist, not pulling you away but not letting go either. her scrubs are rumpled where your other hand had been gripping her hip.

you ease your fingers out carefully, feeling the way she shudders one last time at the loss of contact, and she lets out a shaky breath that ghosts across your neck.

neither of you says anything right away. your heart is still racing, while she smooths her hair back and tucks the loose strands behind her ear. her cheeks are flushed, lips a little swollen, and she looks so human like this. like your baran.

she clears her throat softly. “we should get back before someone notices we’re both missing.” her voice is low, composed again but with a rough edge that gives away how affected she still is. she doesn’t meet your eyes right away, instead reaching for the door lock.

you nod, swallowing hard. “you’re right.” the door clicks open and you both slip out one after the other, trying to look casual like you’d just been grabbing extra gauze or something. the hallway feels too bright after the dim closet. a nurse passes by without glancing twice and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. your scrubs feel sticky with sweat and the evidence of what just happened clings to your skin, making every step feel loaded.

the shift drags on in this weird hazy way after that. cases keep coming but nothing too crazy, just enough to keep everyone moving. you and baran avoid being too close, but it’s impossible not to brush past each other at the station or catch each other’s eye during a handoff. the air between you crackles with this new awkwardness on top of all the old stuff. do you talk about it? pretend it didn’t happen?

your mind keeps replaying the way she fell apart around your fingers, the little sounds she tried to hold back, and it makes focusing on charting feel impossible.

baran stays professional on the surface, directing the team with the same calm authority, but you notice the small cracks. the way she fiddles with her hair, the extra second her gaze lingers on you before she looks away. it’s almost time for handover when things finally slow enough that you both end up at the nurses station wrapping up notes. the ER hums around you but it all feels distant.

she finishes her last chart and logs out of the computer with a soft click. “shift’s almost done,” she says quietly, not quite looking at you. “you heading out soon?”

you shrug, capping your pen. “yeah. just a few more things.” your voice comes out rougher than you want it to. the memory of her breathing hard against your mouth is still fresh and it’s messing with your head. part of you wants to pull her back into that closet and do it all over again. the other part is terrified this is going to blow everything up worse than the divorce did.

silence stretches for a second too long. you both stand there like you’re waiting for the other to say something. finally she straightens her jacket over her shoulders and tilts her head toward the exit. “you can finish for the day. walk with me to the parking lot?”

you hesitate but nod. “sure.” you grab your stuff and the two of you head out together, the cool air hitting your face as soon as you step outside. the lot is half empty at this hour, streetlights buzzing overhead, your shoes crunching on loose gravel. her car is parked a few spots down from yours. you walk slower than usual, shoulders almost brushing, the tension thick enough to taste.

“about what happened in there,” she starts after a minute, voice low so it doesn’t carry. she glances sideways at you, jaw set but eyes softer than they’ve been all day. “that was… not professional. at all.”

you let out a short breath, kicking at a pebble. “yeah. no shit. you gonna write me up for it, dr. al-hashimi?” the words come out awkward, teasing, bitter. it makes it even more awkward between you now, like neither of you knows if you’re supposed to ignore the fact that you just fucked your ex-wife in a supply closet or confront the mountain of unresolved crap underneath it.

baran stops walking near the hood of your car, turning to face you fully. her arms cross over her chest but it’s not defensive, more like she’s holding herself together. “i’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen. and i’m not going to pretend i didn’t want it.” she pauses, looking you dead in the eye with a tilt of her head. she doesn’t shy away from what she wants, even when it’s messy. that much you know. “i’ve been thinking about you since the divorce. more than i should, it’s hard not to. we left too much unsaid. too much anger.”

you lean back against your car, arms loose at your sides because you don’t know what else to do with them. your pulse is thudding again. “so what, we just fuck in supply rooms now and go back to acting like coworkers? don’t do that.”

she steps closer, close enough that you can smell her shampoo and the familiar body lotion she still uses apparently. “no. that’s not what i want.” her hand lifts like she might touch your arm but she stops short, fingers curling back. “i want to see you again. outside of here. properly, with no sex and not as your attending. just us. dinner or coffee. whatever feels right but no work talk.”

the words hang there, simple but loaded. she’s watching you carefully, her intense stare mixed with something warmer, more vulnerable than she usually lets show. you remember her like this from before the walls went up completely. direct. decisive. the woman who fought for her patients and once fought for you too, until it all got too heavy.

“a date,” you say, testing the word. it feels weird on your tongue after everything. “you’re asking me on a date after… that.”

baran’s mouth quirks, not quite a smile but close. almost self-deprecating. “yes, i am. because ignoring this hasn’t worked for either of us. and pretending we can just coexist in the ER without addressing it is going to make us both miserable. i don’t want miserable anymore.”

she shifts her weight, glancing toward the hospital building like she’s making sure no one’s watching, then back to you. “tomorrow night? after shift change. there’s that quiet place on south side. it’s nothing fancy but we can talk. or not talk. whatever you want. i just… i want to do this right. if we are doing this. the cards are yours.”

you search her face, the exhaustion from the day mixing with that spark that always drew you in. the knot is still there, sharp in your chest, all the old hurts and the new heat from the closet swirling together. but there’s something else too. hope, maybe because you are still very much in love with her, how could you ever fall out of love?

“yeah,” you say finally, voice softer. “tomorrow is fine. i want to. to do this right, i mean.”

she nods once, satisfied, but doesn’t move away right away. her hand does brush your arm this time, light and deliberate, thumb grazing over the fabric of your sleeve. then her hand moves up to your temple, brushing your hair out of the way. “good. drive safe.” she steps back with a smile, one you adore so much. she hesitates for a moment, then she turns toward her own car.

you watch her go, the click of her door echoing across the lot, and sit in your car for a long minute after she pulls out, engine running, mind spinning with everything that just happened.

the hospital looms behind you, lights still bright against the dark. first day down with her back in your world and already everything’s different. the supply room, the almost-fight in the break room, the way she came apart under your touch and then asked for more like it was the most natural thing.

you don’t know if this is going to fix anything or make it worse, but for the first time in a long time it feels like there’s forward motion instead of just spinning in place. tomorrow night hangs there like a promise and a threat all at once. you pull out of the lot, the road stretching ahead, and wonder how the hell you’re supposed to sleep after all that.

you pad out there barefoot, the wood chilly under your feet, and lean against the doorframe. she’s in downward dog, back straight, muscles tight.

“this is early. even for you,” you say, voice scratchy.

baran holds the pose another second then lowers down, sitting back on her heels. her bun is slipping a little, strands sticking to her neck from the movement. “couldn’t sleep. figured i’d get ahead.” she doesn’t look at you right away, just adjusts her mat with precise fingers.

you cross the room and drop onto the couch. “ahead of what, exactly? the sun?”

she exhales through her nose, almost a laugh. “everything.” she simply says, hands flexing once, then still. you’ve seen her like this before, like that one time before telling her son about the two of you. same tight jaw, same way she channels it all into something useful instead of letting it spill out.

you pat the cushion. “come sit before you tweak something.”

baran hesitates, then unfolds and joins you, leg pressing against yours. she sits too upright at first, shoulders squared like she can’t seem to calm down. you nudge her arm with your elbow until she slumps a fraction.

“worst case,” you start, keeping it light. “you walk in and you realize you forgot lunch.”

“i never forget,” she says, deadpan. her fingers tap once on her thigh, that restless habit when her brain’s running scenarios.

you grin. “i know.” you reach over and cover her tapping hand, thumb pressing the back of it until the movement stops.

you tilt your head so it rests near hers. “you’ve run worse shifts at the va.”

“different,” she mutters. “this is… new system. new faces judging the changes i want to make.” she doesn’t elaborate, but you catch the undercurrent. baran isn’t the type to talk about her feelings for long. she just tightens her grip on your hand for a second, solid and certain.

you squeeze once. “they’ll adjust. or you’ll make them. either way, you’ll do good.” your free hand finds the spot on her lower back where tension usually knots up. you rub small circles there until her next breath comes easier.

baran turns her head slightly, forehead grazing your temple. “my son called last night, from his dad’s phone. asked if i was nervous. i told him no.”

“but you are, right?” you always read her so well, she appreciates it at times. but times like now, she finds annoying because she wants to appear stronger.

she huffs. "maybe." her hand shifts to your knee, palm flat like she's grounding herself. you both stay like that for a bit, the couch dipping under your weights, her scrubs laid out on the chair across the room catching the first hint of dawn light.

you get up eventually and head to the kitchen, baran trailing after a minute. she watches you pull out the pancake mix, arms crossed, eyes fixed on your measurements. "that's too much water."

“it’s fine.”

"it's watery." she steps in, hip checking you gently out of the way, and adjusts the bowl. her movements are quick, precise. you lean on the counter and take a sip from her too bitter coffee.

"stealing my caffeine now?" she says, narrowing her eyes at you before flipping the first pancake.

"there's something called sharing." you tease her, staying close while the pan sizzles. the kitchen fills with the smell of batter. when the pancake lands a little crooked, she sighs but doesn't comment, just corrects it with the spatula.

she huffs and you slide behind her for a second, arms loose around her waist, chin near her shoulder. baran leans back into it briefly, her back solid against your chest, before she straightens to flip the next one. "you're distracting me."

“good. you need it.” your fingers brush her side once, feeling the fabric of her shirt. she doesn’t pull away, just works around you, pouring more coffee for both.

when you’ve both finished your food and talking about nothing in particular she heads for the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. the water runs for exactly eight minutes. you know because you’ve timed it before like a freak.

you clear the plates while she’s in there, stacking them in the sink with a clatter. her lunch containers are already on the counter, she prepped them last night with the kind of precision that makes you shake your head. quinoa salad for you, something with chickpeas and herbs for her.

she comes out with damp hair, wearing street clothes, dark jeans and a plain shirt that looks better on her than it has any right to. scrubs are folded neat in her bag. you pull on your hoodie, and grab your bag too. the house feels smaller with both of you moving around it, keys jingling, shoes scuffing the floor.

“ready?” you ask, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“almost.” she double checks the lunch containers one more time, then zips her bag. her shoulders are still a little high but the shower took some of the edge off. you hold the door for her and she brushes past.

outside the air’s crisp, morning chill biting at your necks as you walk to the car. she drives because it gives her something to focus on and you slide into the passenger seat, immediately starting to fiddle with the radio until she swats your hand away, claiming she wants silence.

“i want to bring bagels.” she says, pulling out onto the street. her fingers tap the wheel once, then stop.

you grin, leaning back in the seat. “smart. everyone likes free carbs. i’ll help pick. if you want.”

she nods, eyes on the road. the bakery’s only ten minutes away, this little spot with the good everything bagels and the cranky old guy behind the counter.

inside it smells like fresh dough and coffee grounds. baran stands at the case, scanning everything like it’s the most serious mission in the world.

“get some plain ones,” you say low, pointing. “and just a few sesame’s.”

she adds a few more, including a couple asiago ones you know she likes herself even if she won’t admit it’s for her. she lets you pay because you insist, muttering something about how you owe her. once the the bag’s secured you head back to the car.

you load up and she starts driving toward the hospital, traffic picking up now that the city’s waking up. both your bags sits between you, the bakery one on top. you rest your hand on her thigh for a second, thumb rubbing a small circle over the denim. she doesn’t say anything but her leg presses back a little.

“they know i’ve got a girlfriend,” you say after a minute, voice easy. “always teasing me about being whipped. but they don’t know it’s you, don’t worry.”

baran’s mouth quirks. “good. let’s keep it that way for now.” her hand drops from the wheel to cover yours briefly before she needs it back for a turn. “easier if i’m not the new attending dating someone on staff day one.”

you nod. the secret’s been fine so far, and it makes the long shifts bearable knowing she’s there at the end of them. she parks in the staff lot and you both sit for a second, engine ticking as it cools. she grabs the bakery bag and you take the lunches, slinging both your bags over shoulders.

walking in together looks normal enough. coworkers heading the same direction, nothing suspicious. but her stride’s controlled, you can tell her mind’s spinning. so you bump her elbow lightly as you push through the doors.

“you’re going to be amazing. if it’s too much just come find me.” you mutter, shooting her a smile.

she huffs a small breath, almost a laugh. “we’ll see.” her fingers graze the small of your back for half a second as you head off toward the locker room, her hand gone before anyone clocks it. you head to your locker, already hearing the familiar chatter of the ER waking up, and smile to yourself thinking about her setting out those bagels, trying to win people over. it’s cute, how she brought bagels, how determined she is.

she opens the door in her soft sweatpants and a plain black tee that’s seen better days but somehow looks perfect on her. her hair’s down, still damp from her shower, a few strands sticking to the side of her neck. the small smile she gives you hits different every time, like she’s actually glad you’re the one standing there.

“hey, azizam,” she says, voice low and easy as she steps back to let you in. “long day?”

“yeah, that’s one way to put it,” you mumble, kicking your shoes off by the door. the familiar smell of her place wraps around you right away. you set the bag on the counter and she’s already moving around the kitchen, pulling out plates.

you end up on the couch with the food, legs tangled under a blanket while some random documentary hums on the tv. she’s listening while you vent about the spreadsheets that kept glitching and the meeting that ran over because no one could shut up. her thumb rubs slow circles on your knee the whole time, warm through your jeans. she lets you talk it out without interrupting, nodding here and there, her dark eyes steady on you. saying how you don’t deserve to put up with that crap, joking about how you should just quit your job and let her take care of you instead. she’s not really joking.

after the containers are cleared and put away, you both migrate to her bedroom because the couch feels too cramped with how your shoulders are killing you. you drop onto the bed first, stretching out on top of the covers while she plugs her phone in and dims the lamp to a warm glow.

she settles against the headboard, one arm loose around you as you curl into her side. her fingers thread through your hair, playing with it absently, tugging just enough to feel nice. you turn your face into her shoulder, breathing her in deep - body oil mixed with body lotion and her faint perfume. she smells so nice and it always cuts through your nerves. your hand rests on her stomach, feeling the rise and fall there, and for a minute it’s enough just to be close.

eventually you tilt your head up and kiss the corner of her mouth, soft at first, almost shy about it. she doesn’t grab for more. she turns into it slow, letting you lead, her lips warm and patient against yours. the second kiss lingers longer, your mouth pressing firmer, and she hums quiet into it, one hand sliding to rest light on your waist. not pulling, not pushing. she never push you, has never rushed you.

you swing a leg over and straddle her lap without overthinking it, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her hips. the weight of you on her feels good, solid. her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs stroking up and down the denim in unhurried lines that send little sparks straight through you. you kiss her deeper, tongue brushing hers, and heat starts pooling low in your belly.

you chase her lips, mouths moving lazy but getting sloppier. it’s hard to not get needy when you make out with baran, you’ve just been so nervous to go further.

you lose count of how long you’re like this, just making out heavy. her tongue slides against yours slow and sure, pulling tiny sounds from you that you don’t even try to hold back anymore. your hips start shifting on their own, rocking forward in subtle little grinds against her thigh. the seam of your jeans catches just right and you whimper into her mouth, embarrassed but too turned on to stop. your clit throbs with each press down, damp heat soaking through your underwear already.

baran pulls back a fraction, cupping your face with both hands. her thumbs brush your flushed cheeks, eyes dark and locked on yours, breathing a little heavier.

“hey,” she murmurs, voice rough around the edges but so soft. “you good?”

you nod, biting your lip. “yeah, i just… i want more, baran.” your voice comes out shaky, heart pounding in your throat. “i think i’m ready. with you. i want it to be you, obviously.”

she doesn’t jump on it. she searches your face for a long second, really looking, like she’s weighing every part of this. her hands stay gentle on your jaw, thumbs stroking slow.

“you sure?” she asks, low and careful. “not just ‘cause it feels good right now. we’ve got time. i’m good with just staying like this. i don’t want you feeling like you got to do this tonight if you’re even a little unsure.”

you let out a breath, forehead pressing to hers. “i know. you’ve been so good about waiting and i appreciate that so much. you have never pushed. i trust you and yes, i’m sure. i want this, want you.”

she exhales, slow and steady, then presses a kiss to your forehead that lingers. “alright. but we do this your way. if anything feels off, even a tiny bit, you say it. yeah?”

“yeah,” you whisper, already leaning in to kiss her again.

her hands slip under the hem of your shirt, palms warm and broad against your bare back, but she doesn’t yank it off. she just holds you closer, letting you feel her, letting you decide when to take the next step. you can feel how careful she’s being, how much she’s holding back so you don’t feel rushed, making sure this doesn’t feel like too much, and it makes something tight in your chest loosen.

your hips keep up a slow grind. the friction against her thigh is driving you crazy, your panties sticking wetly, clit aching every time you roll down. you whimper louder into the kiss, tongues tangling, and she squeezes your waist like she can feel how bad you need it.

“just let me know what feels good,” she says against your mouth between kisses, breath hot.

you rock harder against her, the pressure building. her thigh flexes under you and you gasp, burying your face in her neck as another sound slips out. she’s so solid under you, so patient, hands roaming your back and sides but never demanding. if anything her grip on your waist tightens just enough to let you know she likes it.

you kiss down her jaw, nipping lightly, and she tilts her head to give you room, a quiet groan vibrating against your lips. your hands fist in her shirt, tugging it up a little so you can feel skin on skin at your waist. everything’s hazy and slow, your lips swollen and your pussy throbbing, desperate for more but not wanting it to end either. she chuckles softly when you grind down particularly hard, the sound warm and fond against your ear.

“you feel good like this,” she whispers, one hand sliding to grip your ass, guiding the motion just enough to make you moan. not taking over, just helping.

you nod against her neck, breathing fast. the office stress from earlier feels miles away, replaced by this building ache, the way her body fits against yours, the quiet reassurance in every touch.

your hips keeps rocking in slow, desperate little circles against her thigh while your mouths move together until you can build up the courage to go further. your jeans are damp between your legs, the friction making your clit throb with every grind down. baran pulls back every so often to look at you, checking in without saying much, her breath warm against your cheek.

“you really want this tonight?” she asks again, voice low and rough. probably sensing that you’re nervous. her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “you can tell me if you change your mind. we can make out, or cuddle and we call it good if that’s all you need.” she reassures.

you shake your head, leaning in to kiss her again. “no. i want this, baran. been thinking about it for weeks.”

she nods slow, like she’s letting that sink in, then flips you gently onto your back. the mattress dips under her weight as she settles between your spread legs, not crushing you but close enough that you feel the heat coming off her. she tugs your shirt up and off, then unhooks your bra, kissing down your chest as she goes. her mouth lingers on your breasts, sucking one nipple between her lips while her hand squeezes the other. you arch up into it, a shaky moan slipping out when she scrapes her teeth lightly.

“fuck, that feels good,” you whisper, fingers threading through her hair.

“yeah?” she murmurs against your skin, switching sides. “tell me what else you like.”

you don’t have all the words right away, but she doesn’t push. she peels your jeans down next, taking your soaked panties with them. cool air hits your pussy and you shiver, knees falling open wider on their own. baran’s eyes drag over you, dark and hungry but still soft at the edges. she runs her palms up your thighs, spreading you more, thumbs brushing the crease where your leg meets your body.

“you’re so beautiful,” she says, breathing heavier. one finger slides through your folds, spreading the slick around your clit without pressing hard. you twitch hard at the contact, hips jerking up, trying to chase it. “easy, baby. we got time.”

she starts slow, just rubbing circles around your clit, building the pressure so gradually you don’t even notice how bad you’re leaking onto her sheets until her finger dips lower and catches it. “feel okay?” she checks every few minutes, eyes flicking up to your face.

“more,” you breathe, reaching down to grab her wrist, not guiding her exactly but showing her you want it. she slides one finger inside you, just the tip at first, curling gentle against your walls.

“good girl,” she says softly, kissing your bent knee. “that’s it. you’re doing perfect.” she works the finger deeper, pumping slow, her thumb back on your clit rubbing steady circles. your pussy clenches around her, wet sounds starting to fill the room. she adds a second finger after a while, scissoring them a little to open you up, and you moan louder, one hand fisting the pillow behind your head.

“yes, baby- right there,” you gasp when she curls them just right, hitting your g-spot and it makes sparks shoot up your spine. she stays focused, watching your face the whole time, adjusting every time your moans pitch higher. her free hand strokes your stomach, your hip, keeping you grounded while the pressure builds hot and tight in your belly.

you come sudden and hard on her fingers, thighs clamping around her wrist as it hits you. your back comes off the bed and she keeps moving through it, slow and deep, “juuust like that, baby, so good.” she murmurs against against your skin. it rolls through you longer than how it would if you were pleasuring yourself, leaving your legs shaky and your pussy pulsing even after she eases her fingers out.

she crawls up to kiss you, “how you feeling?” she asks between kisses, brushing hair off your damp forehead.

“really good,” you admit, laughing a bit breathlessly. your hands slide down her back, wanting to feel her skin on yours.

“i’m glad. you looked beautiful.” she says, smiling. she leans down and kiss the corner of your mouth, then your cheek while inhaling your scent.

you hum and she press one last kiss to your temple before looking at you. “baby, can i taste you?” she asks, looking at you for permission. “you can say no. remember, you’re in control.” she assures you, brushing her knuckles against your cheekbone, searching your face for any hesitations.

you nod fast, nerves and excitement twisting together. “yes, please.”

she nearly grins and murmurs a thank you before slowly kissing down your body. down your neck, chest, collarbone and finally down your stomach. she keeps glancing up at you, mostly to admire how you look but also to check in. she exhales and takes her time on your inner thigh.

you grow impatient, hips lifting off the bed. she notices, chuckling against your skin. “you’re so soft,” she murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin while her hand softly squeeze your other thigh. “you’re quite impatient though. i want to take my time with you.”

“baran, you take your time with everything. not now.” you pout down at her, threading your fingers through her hair.

she bites her lip and looks up at you, “guess i’m just precise.” she kiss right above your clit, making you jerk up and whimper. “just want… perfect satisfaction score.” she murmurs against your skin, kissing your inner thigh, beside your lip.

she’s enjoying this way too much, and it’s torture for you. you try to guide her head towards where you need her with a whine, earning a light nip of her teeth on your skin.

“please, baran- i can’t.” you beg so nicely, you just want her to give you the same pleasure as she did with her fingers.

she huffs a small laugh, looking up at you through her lashes. “you sound pretty when you beg.”

she finally kiss your folds, tongue flattening out to lick a long stripe up through your wetness. you jerk at the warmth, she takes it easy, sucking gently on your clit.

“oh my god,” you moan, hand tightening in her hair. she hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl. two fingers slide back into your pussy while her tongue works your clit, pumping in and out in time with her licks. the wet sounds are louder now, her mouth slurping softly, tongue dipping inside you sometimes before going back up. your hips grind against her face on their own, chasing the feeling, and she grips your thighs to hold you open.

she builds you up again slower this time, edging you then backing off until you’re whining her name, begging in broken little whispers. “please, please, baby. i need it.” when you finally tip over the edge it’s sharper this time, your pussy gushing around her fingers while she sucks your clit through it. you come down panting, legs trembling around her shoulders.

she kisses her way back up your body, lips shiny with you, and settles beside you. you turn into her, still catching your breath. “worth the wait?” she tease.

you huff against her neck, “yes… but that was mean.”

she laughs softly into your hair, wrapping her arms around you and pulls you close. “wasn’t mean, just wanted to take my time with you. you’re too precious to rush.”

she traces slow patterns on your back, dropping lazy kisses on your shoulder and collarbone. “you did very good, though,” she says quietly, voice warm. “how are you feeling? sore anywhere?”

you shake your head, curling tighter into her chest. “a little achy but like… good achy. that was way better than anything i’ve done by myself.” your fingers trail over her stomach, still buzzing from everything. “i can’t believe how patient you’ve been with me.”

she chuckles soft, the sound rumbling under your cheek. “got no reason to rush. i’d be fine with never having sex, if that’s what you would’ve wanted.” she pulls you closer, one leg slung over yours, holding you like she doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

you stay curled against her for a while, bodies sticky and warm under the blanket, her fingers tracing lazy lines up and down your spine. your attention keeps drifting to her, the way her breathing hasn’t fully settled, the subtle shift of her hips every few seconds like she’s still keyed up. you tilt your head up, chin resting on her chest, and catch her eye.

“i wanna make you feel good,” you say quietly, voice a little hoarse. “show me how.”

baran runs her thumb along your jaw, searching your face thoroughly. “you don’t have to do anything, azizam. i’m good staying like this.”

“i want to,” you insist, already sliding your hand down her stomach, fingers brushing the soft hairs just above her pussy. “tell me what feels good.”

“okay, of course.” she agreea and rolls onto her back, spreading her legs as you move between them. her pussy looks flushed and wet, lips shiny from how turned on she still is. she gently takes your hand again with a smile, slowly guiding your fingers to her clit. “start slow here,” she murmurs. “circles, not too much pressure at first. just… yeah, like that.”

your fingertips rub gentle circles over the swollen nub and her breath hitches immediately, hips twitching up. “that’s nice,” she says, one hand resting light on your wrist, not controlling but staying close. you keep the rhythm steady, watching her face as her eyes flutter and her lips part. after a minute she gets wetter under your touch, slick coating your fingers as you slide them down through her folds.

“inside?” you ask, glancing up.

“two fingers,” she tells you, voice dropping lower. “go slow at first, then curl them up a bit.”

you push in careful, feeling her tight heat grip around your fingers. she’s so warm and wet, walls fluttering as you sink deeper. you start pumping slow, curling like she showed you, and her head tips back against the pillow with a low groan. “fuck, baby… right there. you’re picking this up quick.”

you beam at the praise. feeling more confident, you add your thumb on her clit, rubbing while your fingers thrust in and out. the wet sounds are obscene, your knuckles getting slick with her as she starts rocking down to meet you. her pussy clenching tighter every time you hit her g-spot, and you can feel how much she likes it from the way her thighs tense around your arm.

after a few minutes she tugs gently at your hair to meet your eyes. “you wanna go down on me?” her eyes are dark when she looks at you. “no pressure if you’re not ready.”

“i am,” you say fast, already shifting lower. she spreads her legs wider, two fingers holding herself open for you. you start with a soft lick up her slit, tasting her for the first time and softly moan at her salty, warm and sweet taste. you get bolder quick, licking broader, tongue flattening against her clit before dipping down to push inside her hole, trying to copy what she did to you.

“oh fuck,” she breathes, fingers threading into your hair. “just like that.”

you lose yourself in it quickly, burying your face deeper. your licks turn messy, spit mixing with her wetness as you suck on her clit then lap sloppily down to her entrance. you push your tongue inside her, fucking her with it while your nose rubs against her clit. she tastes stronger the wetter she gets, dripping down your chin as you eat her out like you can’t get enough. your fingers slide back in, pumping while your mouth focuses on sucking her clit harder.

baran’s hips grind against your face, not rough but needy, her hand tightening in your hair. “good girl,” she groans, voice thick, looking down at you. “you look so hot, baby.”

you moan into her pussy, the vibration making her walls clench. you’re sloppy about it, chin and cheeks covered in her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. if anything it turns her on more, her breathing gets ragged and her hips move faster. all she can think is how fucking addictive this is, having you like this, teaching you, knowing no one’s ever had their mouth on her pussy quite like you are right now, knowing she’s your first. no one’s been this eager to please her. you’re clearly getting hooked on her taste, on making her feel good.

“add another finger,” she says, breath catching. “stretch me a little more, eshgham.”

you do exactly as she says. three fingers pumping deep while you suck hard on her clit. her pussy takes them easier than you expected but still grips tight, hot and fluttering. wet squelching every time you thrust in combined with your messy licking. she tastes even stronger when she gets closer, flooding your mouth as you lap it up eagerly.

“you’re doing so good,” she praises, voice breaking a bit. “you’re a quick learner… don’t stop, azizam, i’m getting close.” her free hand grips the sheet, knuckles white, while the other stays in your hair, guiding you just a little while mumbling something in farsi.

you keep the same pace, fingers curling deep, mouth working her clit steady. her thighs start trembling around your head, pussy clenching rhythmically around your fingers. “fuck… right there, don’t change anything,” she gasps. her back arches and she comes hard, moaning low and long as her walls squeeze tight around your fingers. you feel every pulse, every flutter, while you keep licking her through it, gentler but not pulling away until she tugs you up softly.

you crawl back up, face shiny and flushed, lips swollen. she kisses you right away, tasting herself on your tongue, hands running down your back to pull you closer. “c’mere,” she mutters against your mouth. “you were incredible for your first time.”

you give her a shy smile and settle on top of her, legs tangled, both of you breathing hard. “i really liked it,” you admit, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. “you taste good.”

she laughs quiet, the sound warm and a little breathless, pulling the blanket over your sweaty bodies. “yeah? good, because i’m already addicted to your mouth.” her hand squeezes your hip, holding you against her as she kisses your forehead. “you did do amazing. made me feel so good.”

“thank you,” you blush and smile into her neck, getting even more shy at her words. you can still taste her on your lips, body buzzing. her fingers stroke through your hair slow and steady while you both come down, skin sticking where it touches. she shifts a little so your thigh presses between hers, just resting there as she holds you tight.

“we can do that again whenever you want to, you set the pace.” she says softly after a minute, voice relaxed now.

you nod against her, already getting sleepy.

she drops another kiss on your shoulder, hands roaming lazy over your back, keeping you close like she doesn’t want to ever letting go.