#adanimi

and so he relishes in the silence of the library , and how he can let his guard down , even if just for a moment . while he has already read many of the books in his father's library , he takes solace in them and the escape they provide him .

" i didn't expect the world's most feared assassin to like books . "

green eyes look up from the page to see @adanimi standing near the entrance to the library , and on instinct , damian's body tenses . they have yet to fully come to terms with one another , and the boy fears that said assassin is all the man sees when he looks at him . damian has been taught to observe others and read them , but his father is like a book that is not only shut , but shut tightly and chained closed .

@adanimi

he  should've  just  hit  the  road  as  soon  as  his  shift  was  finished.  it'd  be  easier  that  way,  he  knows,  to  leave  it  all  behind.  glancing  back  in  his  rearview  mirror  is  dangerous.  the  longer  he  lingers,  the  more  strings  become  attached  and  tangled.  really,  he  shouldn't  be  here.  he's  gazing  at  the  expanse  of  his  apartment,  lingering  in  the  doorway  after  giving  whitaker  an  unceremonious  tour  of  the  place:  books  on  shelves  that  he  probably  won't  be  interested  in,  a  near  -  empty  dvr  waiting  for  him,  robby's  barely  -  slept  -  in  bed  stripped  clean  with  fresh  sheets.

keys  jingle  in  his  hand.  he  twirls  them  around  long,  lithe  digits,  swaying  uneasily  in  place.  turn  and  go,  robby.  it's  really  that  easy.  it  should  be,  anyways.  why  isn't  it?  he  doesn't  notice  a  pair  of  eyes  lingering  on  him  at  first,  too  caught  in  his  own  head.  there's  a  lump  the  size  of  a  golf  ball  lodged  in  his  throat,  and  he  struggles  to  swallow  past  it  enough  to  breathe.  scrubs  have  been  exchanged  with  jeans  and  a  leather  jacket.

there’s a moment, considered and dismissed in the space of a single breath, where jack thinks he may be overreacting to the melancholy that seems to cling to the other man. that he has overstepped once again — let’s not forget the personally delivered letters of the past, jack — by inviting himself into @adanimi's place, walking in behind the younger doctor before the door could swing shut in his face. in dropping his go bag onto the couch as if it belongs there, as if he has every right to mentally claim the spot as his bed, on the way to john’s kitchen. 

he’s going to hate this, jack. going to hate you for deciding unilaterally that he shouldn’t be trusted to stay alone this morning. but what does that matter? john can hate him for it. as long as he wants. so long as he can hate jack for it. 

“you hungry?” his hand closes around the fridge handle, pulling it open without waiting for a response. helps himself to the milk first, setting it on john’s counter as he tracks down some mugs for the coffee he intends to brew. “i’m still a breakfast guy after a shift.” 

The move to nights was taking longer than Samira wanted it to. They promised her it was happening but still here she was only seeing her boyfriend in passing. Their opposing shifts meaning she only saw him a few minutes here or there. Sleeping in the same bed but not at the same time. A few more weeks and they'd be on the same schedule. A few more weeks and she'd get more than just a quick peck on the cheek.

“you still have me.” the response is immediate, all but trampling on the tail end of michael’s words. hazel eyes dart towards the tent flap where the muffled sound of boots and irritated chatter remains present, and jack takes a steadying breath. forces himself to continue in a quieter voice, to smooth out the raw edge of panic worry that rears its head each and every time he chooses to call michael. ten minutes if they’re lucky. that’s all jack can spare. he hates that is all he can spare. suck it up, jack. you’re the one that chose to do this. you’ll make it up to michael when you ship back home in eight weeks.  

“you still have me. i’ll be back home soon, okay?” he’s not supposed to say that. tempting fate and all. but this is worth it. if he can reassure michael, it’s worth it. 

ships? spare ships??

Samira didn't think she'd ever been so relaxed in all her life. They were on the vacation they'd planned months ago. Spending Samira's birthday at a hotel by the beach. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done anything for her birthday let alone something so nice. She'd spent the first day just thanking John, probably more than she should. She's just not used to people putting this much care into her, to being so considerate and loving her.

Once Samira got past the thanking though she'd finally started to relax. To enjoy the beach and the nice dinners. Today she'd gotten up first put on her swimsuit and a dress over it. Was realxing on the beach chair on the porch. Cup of tea that she was sipping and a book Princess had told her was a great summer read. No work to stress over and she wasn't overthinking as much.