ᛪ༙

“he forgot this,” she says, voice steady and low. she holds the bag up a little, letting it swing once. “after i dropped him off earlier. figured you’d be dealing with the meltdown tomorrow morning if he didn’t have it.”

you don’t say anything right away. just step back and let her come in because what else are you gonna do, leave her on the doorstep? probably should have. she brushes past, close enough that her sleeve catches yours for a second, and you catch her familiar smell - her shampoo, something simple and clean that always lingered on the pillows before. she sets the bag on the little bench by the door, adjusting it so it doesn’t fall over, then straightens up and glances around like she’s checking if anything’s changed since last time.

“thanks,” you manage, crossing your arms over your chest. the door clicks shut behind her and suddenly the entryway feels smaller. “he said you guys went to that thing after school. didn’t realize he left half his stuff.”

baran shrugs, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. her mouth twitch a little, not quite a smile but close. “kids. he’s been in his own world lately. he’s growing so fast.” she nods toward the living room. “you mind if i sit for a minute? it’s been a long drive.”

you hesitate, she doesn’t even live that far, but sure. you still nod. “yeah, sure.” you lead the way even though she knows the house better than anyone. the couch dips when she drops onto it, hands neatly folded in her lap. you perch on the armchair across from her, not quite ready to get too comfortable. “water? or something else?”

“water’s fine.” she watches you head to the kitchen, her eyes following, almost like she’s studying you and not really trying to hide it either. when you come back with the glass, she takes it and her fingers brush yours on purpose, lingering just long enough. “you look good. a little tired around the eyes maybe, but good.”

you snort and sit back down, pulling your legs up under you. “flattery now? after months of radio silence except for pickup schedules?”

she takes a sip, sets the glass on the coffee table carefully, like she doesn’t want to leave rings. “not flattery. just saying it.” her tone’s casual but there’s an edge underneath, like she’s thinking three steps ahead. “how’s he been with the math homework? you texted last week he was ready to throw the book out the window.”

you laugh a little despite yourself, relaxing into the chair. “yeah, he’s been fighting it. i tried helping but i swear the way they teach it now is different from when we were in school. he gets frustrated and shuts down. you know how he is.” you shrug one shoulder.

baran nods, listening like she actually cares. she always do that, always so focused. “he’s stubborn. gets it from both of us probably. maybe i can go over some stuff with him next time.” she pauses, eyes flicking to your face. “unless you want me to stay out of it. i don’t want to step on toes.”

“no, it’s fine,” you say, waving it off. “he likes when you help. asks about you sometimes, you know. still asks why you don’t live here anymore.” the words slip out heavier than you meant and you see her expression shift, something softer crossing her features before she covers it.

she leans forward a bit, elbows on her knees. “i’ve been thinking about that. a lot, actually.” her voice drops. “dropping him off, picking him up… i still see him every weekend but it’s not enough. this back and forth. i miss the everyday stuff. dinners where he’s arguing about vegetables. you scolding both of us when i let him get away with not eating his greens. i’m sorry my job keeps me so busy.”

you feel the pull in your chest, a familiar ache. “baran, we did the whole ‘let’s try to be friends for him’ thing.” you say, exaggerating it with your hands. “it didn’t exactly work out so well.” you say softer.

“i know.” she doesn’t push, just sits there watching you, patient as ever. her fingers scratch at her forearm, a small nervous habit you remember. “doesn’t mean i stopped missing it. missing you. being a family.” the last part comes out quieter, almost like she’s testing the water.

the room feels warmer suddenly. you stand up to grab a snack from the kitchen just to move, and she follows without asking, leaning against the counter while you pull out some chips. “want some?” you offer the bag.

she takes exactly one, crunching thoughtfully. “you finally stopped buying the cheap ones? they’re bad for you.”

“i know. you’ve told me plenty of times.” you lean on the opposite counter, facing her. the space between you isn’t much. “so what, you just happened to be in the neighborhood with his bag?”

baran chuckles, dry and low. “something like that. maybe i just wanted our son to have his bag for school. or maybe i wanted to see you. talk without the handoff rush.”

she pops another chip in her mouth, chewing slow, the crunch loud in the quiet kitchen. she tilts her head a little, like she’s thinking it over, hesitating for a beat longer than usual before the words come out. “you seeing anyone?”

the question lands blunt, straight to the point like she always is, but it still catches you off guard enough that you pause mid-reach for your water glass. you raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. “that’s none of your business anymore, is it?”

“probably not,” she admits, but her eyes don’t leave yours, sparkly and steady, a focused look that makes it hard to look away. she sets the chip bag down, wiping her fingers on her jeans. “doesn’t stop me from wondering though. you’re bad at picking people who deserve you.”

you can tell she’s not over it. the way her jaw tightens just a fraction, the small shift in her posture. she heard about that one hookup from a mutual friend, probably weeks ago, and it’s clearly been sitting there under her skin. jealous in a subtle way.

you scoff and roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips anyway. you lightly shove her shoulder, your palm brushing the soft fabric of her sweater. “oh fuck off. i can take care of myself, you know.”

her hand catches your wrist before you can pull back fully, warm and steady, fingers wrapping easy around it. her thumb presses right against your pulse point, feeling the way it jumps under her touch. she doesn’t squeeze, just holds it there for a few seconds, like she’s grounding herself or maybe reminding you both of how easy this still feels. “didn’t say you couldn’t, i know you’re a big girl.” she says, voice low and dry, a hint of that smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. “you deserve better than some half-assed rebound who doesn’t even know how you like… certain things.”

you snort, trying to ignore the way her thumb is still there, slow and deliberate, sending little sparks up your arm. “and what, you think you’re the expert on what i deserve? after everything?” you tug your wrist free but not hard, letting your fingers brush hers as you do. the kitchen feels smaller now, the space between you charged again.

baran shrugs, popping one more chip in her mouth but chewing slower this time, eyes still on you. “i do know better than other people, that’s just a fact. i pay attention.” she leans against the counter opposite you, casual but close enough that her knee bumps yours lightly. “so? was it worth it at least? or should i be glad it wasn’t that great?”

you shake your head, laughing under your breath. “it was whatever, nothing serious. just… filling time.” you meet her gaze, the tension thickening again. “happy now?”

she doesn’t answer right away, just watches you with patient attentiveness. her fingers flex where they rest on the counter, like she wants to reach out again but holds back. “not really,” she says finally, honest and quiet. “but i’ll take it.”

the air hangs there for a moment, heavy with everything unsaid, before she straightens up a little, changing the subject but not really letting it drop either.

you end up back on the couch eventually, talking about nothing heavy at first. how your son’s obsessed with some new video game, the way the neighbor’s dog keeps digging up your flowers, stupid stuff that fills the space.

baran tells this short story about getting lost on a walk the other day because she was distracted thinking about work, but she catches herself and shifts to something lighter, complaining about traffic instead. her laugh slips out when you tease her about directions, a quiet sound that always hit you right in the gut.

“remember when we took him to that park and he refused to leave until he found the ‘perfect stick’?” she asks, stretching her legs out so her foot bumps yours accidentally-on-purpose.

“yeah, and you spent twenty minutes helping him look like it was a serious mission.” you smile despite the tension coiling low in your stomach. “you’re both ridiculous.”

she turns her head toward you on the couch, closer now. “it made him happy.” her gaze drops to your mouth for a beat, then back up. “i miss making you happy too.”

the words hang there. you don’t pull away when her hand rests on the cushion between you, fingers brushing your thigh lightly. she doesn’t push for more, just sits there with you, talking in that calm way of hers, attentive to every shift in your expression. it gets easier, she mocks the way you organized the bookshelf last time she was over, calling it “controlled chaos.”

you fire back about her habit of rearranging the fridge by expiration date, and she grins. “efficiency isn’t a crime, that’s what made us work.”

you look up at her and huff a small laugh, then back down at your hands. “right.”

an hour slips by. the conversation dips and flows, kid stuff mixing with old memories and careful questions about how you’ve both been. she stays, doesn’t make a move to leave even when the clock ticks later. the tension simmers underneath every glance, every accidental touch, building slow and thick.

baran’s knee presses warm against yours through her jeans, her hand sliding over bold and sure to rest on your thigh, thumb rubbing these slow, lazy circles that make your skin prickle under the fabric of your pants. her eyes stay locked on you, steady and dark, patient focus like she’s just waiting for you to catch up to whatever she decided an hour ago when she showed up at the door.

you feel the shift in the air, thick and heavy, and your stomach does a nervous flip. you swallow hard, not pulling away but not fully leaning in either. “we probably shouldn’t,” you say, voice low. “it’ll just complicate everything again. and if our son finds out, it’ll mess with his head even more, having us back and forth like this. we said we were done with this part.”

she doesn’t pull her hand back. instead her thumb keeps moving, slow and soothing, like she’s trying to ease the worry right out of you. she huffs this soft laugh. “hey, i know,” she murmurs, voice calm and low, the kind that always made you feel like things could be simple if you just let her handle it.

“i’m not trying to mess anything up for him. or for you. this doesn’t have to mean anything. just… tonight. one time. we both miss it. i miss feeling you like this, close.”

you hesitate, breath catching as her fingers press a little firmer into your thigh, not pushing but reminding you she’s right there. “baran… it’s never just one time with us. you know that.”

“maybe,” she says, tilting her head. a dry little smirk tugging at her mouth but her eyes staying soft, reassuring. “but we’re adults. we can handle one night without turning it into a whole situation. it’s no pressure, really. just us, blowing off some steam. thought it’d be nice… you’re wound so tight lately, i can see it. no one can really make you feel the way i do. let me help with that. one time. i promise.”

her hand slides up your thigh a little higher, thumb still circling, and she leans in enough that her lips ghost yours when she talks. “i’ve been thinking about you every night the past couple months, azizam. just wanna make you feel good again. that’s all.”

you bite your lip, the pull in your chest mixing with the heat low in your belly. months of keeping distance, of polite texts and quick goodbyes at drop-offs, and now she’s here, solid and warm and saying all the right things in her stupid steady voice. “you swear it won’t make things weirder?”

she nods, fingers threading into your hair at the back of your neck, gentle but sure. “i swear. no strings, no drama. let me take care of you for a bit, baby.” her eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up, patient as ever. “unless you really want me to stop. say the word and i will.” she offers a soft smile, when you don’t respond she sighs, clasps her hands together with a small chuckle. “at least let me say goodnight to the little man.”

before she can get any further you close the distance, surprising her. the kiss starts firm but it deepens fast when you open up for her. her tongue slides against yours, warm and familiar, and she makes this low sound in her throat that vibrates through you. her hand at your neck holds you right there, not rough but enough to keep you close, like she’s scared you’ll change your mind.

you kiss her back hard, all those months of nothing pouring out in the way your teeth catch her bottom lip, the way your hands fist in her sweater. she groans softly, shifting so she’s half pulling you into her lap on the couch, her other hand sliding under your shirt to press warm against your back. the circles her thumb was drawing turn into broader strokes, mapping your skin like she’s memorizing it all over again.

“that’s it,” she breathes between kisses, lips brushing yours. “you give in so easily with me.” she grins against your jaw, nipping lightly, then lower to your neck, sucking a mark that makes your breath hitch. you can feel her heartbeat against you, steady but faster now, her body heat bleeding through her clothes as she holds you tighter.

“missed how you feel,” she murmurs when you finally pull back for air, forehead resting against yours, her breath coming a little uneven now. her voice is lower, rougher around the edges like it’s taking effort to keep it steady. “missed touching you. the way you fit right against me.”

you nod, breathing shaky and quick, heart hammering so loud you’re sure she can hear it. instead of answering you just pull her back in, kissing her harder, deeper, like you’re trying to make up for every single night you spent apart. your hands push at her jacket, shoving it off her shoulders until it drops to the floor with a soft thud.

she helps you yank the sweater up and over her head in one quick motion, no bra underneath, and then her breasts are right there, full and soft and warm, nipples already tight and dark from how turned on she is.

you don’t even think about it. your palms slide over them, squeezing the weight of her, thumbs brushing back and forth over her nipples until they pebble harder under your touch. baran arches up into your hands with a sharp inhale, her hips twitching under you, her thick cock pressing insistently against your thigh through her jeans. she lets out this low, broken sound in the back of her throat, not quite a groan but close, like she’s cracking just a little more.

she swears in farsi, eyes half-lidded as she watches your hands on her. “you still drive me fucking crazy.” her own fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down harder against her lap, grinding up slow so you can feel exactly how hard she is for you. the friction makes heat pool low in your belly, slick and needy already.

she leans in again, mouth hot on your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin there while her hands slide under your shirt, palms broad and warm as they map up your back. “upstairs,” she says into your ear, nipping at the sensitive spot right under your ear, voice rougher than before. “before we don’t make it that far and i end up fucking you on the couch.”

you laugh quietly into her neck, the sound a little breathless, but your hands keep roaming over her bare chest, pinching one nipple lightly just to hear the way her breath catches. “smart… come on.”

she stands up, pulling you with her, hands firm and steady on your hips the whole time like she doesn’t want to risk losing contact. you stumble once on the way to the stairs because you’re too busy kissing along her neck, teeth grazing her skin, and she catches you easy with an arm around your waist. her dry little chuckle slips out, even now when she’s clearly fighting to stay in control.

you quickly grab her hand to pull her the rest of the way up. she follows close behind, fingers laced with yours, thumb still stroking over your skin like she can’t stop touching you.

in the bedroom she shuts the door soft behind you, the click of the lock sounding way too loud in the quiet house. then she’s on you again, backing you toward the bed with deliberate steps, hands sliding down to grip your ass and pull you flush against her. her cock rock hard between you, and she kisses you desperately, tongue sliding deep like she’s starving for it. her breasts brush against your chest with every movement, nipples dragging, and she makes this low, needy sound when you reach down and palm her through her jeans.

“been thinking about this for months,” she admits between kisses, “you have no idea.” voice cracking just a fraction as she backs you until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. “every night. just you. it’s always only you, baby.” her hands are everywhere, tugging at your shirt, sliding under it to feel bare skin, patient but clearly hanging on by a thread.

she peels your shirt off with careful hands, letting her fingertips drag along your skin as she goes. her mouth follows right after, kissing wet and open down your neck, pausing to suck a mark right at the base of your throat that makes you shiver hard, a little gasp slipping out before you can catch it. her hands map your sides, thumbs pressing firm into the dip of your waist like she’s claiming the space again, then sliding higher, palms cupping under your breasts as she breathes against your collarbone.

“you’re so soft,” she mutters, voice low and rough, lips brushing your skin with every word. “missed every inch of you.”

you shove her jeans down her hips, impatient now, and palm her cock through her underwear. it’s thick and hot, already leaking enough to leave a wet spot against the fabric. she hisses through her teeth, hips pushing forward into your hand like she can’t help it.

“been too long… haven’t even been with anyone else,” she admits quietly, almost under her breath, kicking the rest of her clothes off in a hurry. her cock springs up heavy, curving toward her stomach, flushed dark at the tip and already glistening. her chest rise and fall faster with each breath.

you pause for a second, letting her words sink in, then let out a soft, breathless laugh. “oh, so that’s what you’re going with? trying to make me feel guilty because i actually went out and had a shitty hookup while you were being all noble and waiting?”

baran huffs a laugh too, but there’s this edge to it. she climbs onto the bed and helps you lay down comfortably, one hand supporting your back as she guides you onto the pillows, making sure your head is settled just right before she settles between your thighs. her touch is careful even now, thumbs brushing along your sides like she’s making sure you’re okay, like she still can’t help taking care of you.

“not trying to make you feel guilty,” she murmurs, leaning down so her breasts brush against yours as she hovers over you. “just saying… nobody else feels right. nobody else is you.” her cock presses hot and heavy against your inner thigh as she grinds slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of her, thick and throbbing.

you reach up and tug her closer by the back of her neck, grinning even as your heart races. “yeah? poor baran, so lonely while i was putting myself out there.” you tease, mock pouting but your voice is shaky with want as her hips roll against you again.

she leans down and smiles against your mouth, a small, knowing smirk that always gets you. “keep talking shit and i’ll remind you exactly why nobody else measures up.” then she kisses you deep, tongues lazy and messy, tasting and teasing like she really is trying to memorize every second of how you kiss back.

her fingers slide down between your bodies, teasing along your slit, spreading the slickness before circling your clit with just the right pressure. steady, focused, exactly like she always was. “you’re so wet already,” she says against your mouth, voice steady but cracking at the edges with how bad she wants this. “this all for me?”

“yeah,” you whisper, rocking your hips up into her hand. “all for you. only you.”

she chuckles low, but it’s breathless. “still got the effect on you,” she whispers, almost to herself. one finger push inside you, curling just right, and you moan softly, clenching around it as you rock down. she adds a second after a minute, then a third, stretching you slow and patient, thumb never stopping its tight circles on your clit. your thighs start to shake and she notices immediately, a small satisfied smirk flashing across her face even as her own hips twitch against your leg.

you reach down and wrap your hand around her cock, gripping the base and sliding up, twisting your wrist over the head where she’s slick and leaking. “you’re so hard,” you whisper, thumbing over the tip, spreading the wetness. “god, baran.”

she groans, burying her face in your neck, hips fucking shallow into your fist. her breath is hot against your skin, coming faster now. “want inside you so bad,” she says, nipping at your ear, voice rough. “been dreaming about you- your body for months. nothing else feels right, baby. you have no idea.”

“fuck me then,” you breathe, squeezing her a little tighter just to hear the way her breath stutters.

she pulls her fingers out slow, making you whine at the loss, then lines up. the head of her cock presses against your entrance and she pushes in inch by inch, stretching you wide around her thickness. the burn is so good, full and deep, and when she bottoms out you both just stay there, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.

her breasts press soft and warm against yours, nipples dragging with every tiny shift. you feel every inch of her inside, hot and throbbing, and the solid weight of her body on top of you after all this time makes something tight in your chest loosen and ache at the same time.

“fuck,” she groans, staying perfectly still for a long moment, like she’s savoring it. “you feel… perfect. so tight around me, baby.”

she starts moving, deep steady rolls of her hips that grind right where you need it. not rushing it, just thorough, skin slapping quiet and wet with every thrust. you wrap your legs around her waist, heels digging into her ass to pull her deeper. “right there, oh fuck,” you gasp when she hits your spot perfectly, nails digging into her shoulders.

“yeah? like that?” she asks, voice strained but still so focused. she adjusts her angle without missing a beat, fucking you a little deeper, a little harder. one hand braces by your head, the other reaches between you to rub your clit in those tight, precise circles she knows drive you crazy. sweat starts slicking your skin where your bodies press together, her hair falling messy around her face as she leans down to kiss you again.

“harder,” you tell her, rocking up to meet every thrust. “i need more.”

she gives it to you, hips snapping forward with more force, but still controlled, like she’s holding back just enough to make it last. “like this?” she pants, seeking approval while grinding deep on every stroke. “tell me how it feels.”

“so good,” you moan, clenching around her. “missed your cock so much, baby. f-fuck-“

baran makes this low, wrecked sound and buries her face in your neck again, sucking another mark as she keeps her steady, mind-melting rhythm. the room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of her sliding in and out of you, your shared breathing, the creak of the bed.

she’s cracking more at the edges now, thrusts getting just a little less precise, but still so attentive, still watching every reaction on your face like she needs to know exactly what you’re feeling.

you flip her after a while, pushing at her shoulders until she rolls onto her back with this surprised but pleased little huff. you swing a leg over, straddling her hips, and she helps steady you with both hands on your thighs, thumbs stroking the skin there like she needs the contact.

you sink down slow onto her cock, inch by inch, the stretch even better from this angle. fuller. deeper. you feel every thick ridge as she fills you up again, your walls fluttering around her until your ass meets her hips and she’s buried to the hilt, making her shakily exhale.

“fuck,” you both breathe out at the same time.

you grind in slow circles at first, hands braced on her chest, fingers teasing her nipples, rolling them between your thumbs and forefingers. baran’s grip tightens on your hips, not forcing you, just holding on like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. her eyes are half-shut, heavy-lidded, but she’s watching every movement you make, drinking it in.

“you’re so beautiful,” she murmurs, voice rough and low. one hand slides up your body to cup your breast, pinching the nipple just hard enough to make you moan. “you look so good like this.”

instead of answering right away you lean down, pressing your chest flush to hers, and she immediately wraps her arms around your back, pulling you in tight. skin to skin, breasts squished together, her heartbeat hammering against yours. she keeps you there, close as possible, one hand splayed wide between your shoulder blades while the other grips your ass, encouraging the slow grind.

you stay like that for a long moment, just rocking on her cock, feeling it throb deep inside you while your mouths hover close, sharing breath. “i missed you too, you know,” you whisper against her lips. “missed how you hold me.”

baran makes a quiet, wrecked sound and kisses you, deep and sloppy, tongue sliding against yours as her arms squeeze tighter around your body. like she’s trying to pull you inside her chest. her hips roll up gently, meeting your movements, keeping that full, grinding pressure right where it feels best. sweat is starting to slick between your bodies, making everything slide hotter, easier.

the pace builds gradually. you start bouncing harder, lifting up until just the head of her cock catches at your entrance before sinking back down, taking her deep again and again. the bed creaks under you in a steady rhythm, sheets twisting around your legs and tangling between your feet.

her cock drags perfect inside you every time, hitting that spot that makes sparks shoot up your spine. one of her hands stays glued to your back, keeping your upper bodies pressed together while the other slips between you to rub your clit.

“that’s it. you’re doing so good,” she pants against your mouth, not letting you pull away more than an inch. “stay close.” her voice is strained, cracking at the edges, that usual calm fracturing the longer you ride her. you can feel her chest heaving against yours.

you kiss her again, tongues tangled as you grind down deep and roll your hips. “you’re so deep like this, baby,” you breathe, forehead pressed to hers. “making me feel so full.”

“yeah?” she whispers back, eyes locked on yours, dark and intense. her arm around your back flexes, holding you even tighter, hugging you while she fucks you. “just… fuck, you feel so good. thank you… for letting me have you. missed you so much, my love.” she says it so vulnerable, it almost sounds like she’d start crying.

you clench around her at the words, a soft whimper slipping out, and she softly moans, thrusting up harder to meet you. the closeness makes everything more intense, the heat of her skin, the way her breath fans across your face, the faint scent of her warm scent mixed with sweat.

she keeps you pulled in, bodies flush, barely any space between you as you ride her faster, the wet slap of skin filling the room.

her fingers on your clit never falter, steady and perfect, winding you tighter and tighter while her cock strokes deep with every roll of your hips. you bury your face in her neck, kissing and biting softly at her skin, and she turns her head to press her mouth to your temple, murmuring low words between shaky breaths.

“you’re still my girl… i love you, azizam.” she didn’t mean for it to slip out, but it’s almost like she couldn’t help herself.

months apart, and now she’s holding you like she never wants to let go again, cock buried inside you, bodies locked together in the messiest, most intimate way possible. you don’t want it to end either.

you switch again after a while, baran rolling you onto your back with this easy strength that still makes your stomach flip. she settles on top, sliding back inside you in one smooth, deep thrust that has your eyes rolling back. her long strokes are steady and deliberate, hitting deep every single time, dragging against that spot that makes your toes curl.

her mouth is everywhere, sucking fresh marks across your chest, tongue flicking over your nipples, biting down lightly on your shoulder like she needs to leave proof she was here.

“listen to how wet you are,” she whispers against your skin, voice rough but still so focused. “you’re perfect, no one will ever come close to you.”

the room is filled with the slick, filthy sound of her cock sliding in and out of you, your shaky gasps, her low groans that vibrate against your neck, skin slapping steadier and louder now. you’re both sweating, bodies sliding together hot and easy.

you’re right on the edge, thighs trembling around her hips, but she keeps the pace just right, deep and controlled. holding you there, drawing it out until you’re whining under her.

“baran,” you gasp, fingers tangled tight in her messy hair.

“i know, baby. i’ve got you,” she murmurs, forehead pressed to yours, breath mixing with yours. her thrusts get a little harder, a little faster, but still so precise, sweat dripping down her back under your scratching nails.

when you finally cum it hits you like a wave, crashing hard. you clench tight around her cock, a moan tearing out of you as your back arches off the bed, toes curling and doing your best to stay quiet with your son sleeping down the hall. she fucks you through it, steady and deep, grinding against your g-spot until you’re shaking and oversensitive, little aftershocks making you twitch around her.

“fuck, you feel incredible,” she groans, her voice cracking as her pace starts to lose that careful rhythm. “i’m so close-“

“wait,” you manage, still panting, hands sliding to her shoulders. “you can’t cum inside. please, baran.”

she slows just a little but doesn’t stop moving, looking down at you with this almost offended expression, trying to figure out your reasons with her big, chocolate eyes. her eyebrows furrowed like you just suggested something ridiculous. “why?” she asks, hips still rolling slow and deep, cock thick and throbbing inside you. “we used to do this all the time. what’s different now?”

you let out a breathless laugh, half from the pleasure still buzzing through you and half from how typical this is. “because we’re not married anymore. and we got caught up in the moment, a condom didn’t even cross my mind until right now. just… pull out, okay?”

baran huffs, but she nods, leaning down to kiss you slow. “fine. i won’t. i promise.” she says it steady, like she means it, but her arms wrap tighter around you, pulling your bodies flush again as she starts moving once more.

she fucks you harder now, chasing her own release, and you’re still so sensitive it feels overwhelming in the best way. her face is buried in your neck, breath hot and ragged. “you feel too good,” she mutters against your skin. “so warm and tight…”

her thrusts turn erratic, cock swelling inside you, and then she buries herself as deep as she can with a low, rough moan that vibrates through your whole body. she cums hard, hot and thick pulses flooding deep inside you, grinding slow and deliberate like she’s trying to push every drop as far in as it’ll go, wanting it to stick. she doesn’t pull out. not even close.

your eyes widen, a sharp gasp escaping as you feel the warmth spreading, her cock still twitching and pulsing deep. “baran-” you say, voice shaky, a mix of shock and thrill that makes your stomach tighten all over again. your hands push at her chest, nails digging in. “what the fuck?”

she doesn’t move away. just stays buried to the hilt, arms locked around you, breathing hard against your neck. “i know. i’m so sorry, baby.” she murmurs, but there’s no real apology in her tone. it’s rough, honest, a little wrecked. “it just… felt too good. came natural. i’ve cum inside you hundreds of times when we were married. why would it feel any different now?”

you scoff, pushing harder at her chest even as your body clenches around her again from the fullness. “because we’re not married anymore, baran. i trusted you. you literally just said you wouldn’t.”

she lifts her head enough to look at you. eyes hooded, dark and intense, her patient attentiveness still there even now. one hand strokes down your waist, soothing, while her hips give one more slow grind, pushing her cum deeper. “i know. but feeling you like this again… i couldn’t pull out. missed it too much.” she kisses your shoulder, soft and lingering, voice dropping quieter. “let me stay inside a little longer. please. just for a minute, you feel good.”

you stay connected, her warmth filling you, the sheets damp and tangled around your legs, the whole room smelling like sweat and sex and her familiar shampoo. your heart is still racing, body buzzing from the orgasm and the surprise of her breaking that promise so easily, but the way she’s holding you - close and careful, like she’s afraid to let even an inch of space come between you - makes it hard to stay mad.

months of distance, and now this messy, intimate wreck of a moment feels like everything rushing back at once. she presses another soft kiss to your neck, thumb rubbing slow circles on your hip, patient as ever even after she just got exactly what she wanted. she just needs to be more consistent from now on, more in your life. make sure you keep the baby. keep her.

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.