Work Text:
Early--never late.
It was a habit instilled in Parker when she was young. When she was dumb enough to think she knew everything about the world, but smart enough to know she was capable of so much more than what was expected.
“If you’re on time, you’re already late,” a nasally sounding, middle-aged woman nagged. The memory is clear even now. Her highschool, soft-ball coach rode them harder than any teacher ever did, trying her damndest to rear them into respectable young ladies.
Parker was shit at the game itself, but she wasn’t half bad at running drills when the coach was busy and collecting equipment after practice. While she didn’t fall in love with the sport, it had a strong impact on her growing up. Giving her structure and eventually sparking her interest in sports medicine--then medicine in general.
However, the true value of time only cemented as she aged. The world moved fast when you weren’t paying attention. Friends, parents, colleagues all changing, growing, and disappearing in the blink of an eye. It brought her a bitter-sweet comfort. The knowledge of that inevitability of life, the confidence in knowing that you couldn’t know everything. For some people, it plagued them, but personally it only invigorated her to cherish it all while she was still alert and capable.
It certainly helped that Parker rather enjoyed her career of choice. Otherwise those minutes before the start of her shift would’ve been agonizing.
Instead, she drifted off, content. Heat on full blast, her first cup of coffee already half empty, sitting in the cup holder. Forehead pressed against the steering wheel, eyes shut as she mouthed along to her pre-work playlist. You never knew what to expect going into the night-shift, so it was always good to start it off in high spirits.
There was a light tap against the glass of her passenger window, interrupting her train of thought. Parker cracked open an eye, mildly surprised at who she saw. She rolled down the window, cold air nipping as the heat escaped, “Everything good, Mohan?”
Samira leaned down, peering through the open window. Squinting, tired eyes. Face flushed from the cold even with her coat buttoned up to her chin. A plain scarf thrown about her tousled, dark hair, keeping her ears safe and warm. Well put-together, but honest. Wearing her exhaustion as proudly as she wore her I.D. No matter how careful her presentation, her earnestness shone through in a way that made her chest hurt. “Yes,” she said, voice thin as the wind picked up. Hesitating , she leaned in closer as if sharing a secret, “Can we talk?
“Can we?” Parker asked dryly. Her eyes shutting the second she realized it wasn’t an emergency.
Sucking in a breath, Samira pursed her lips, “Parker,” she called out softly, “Please? I’ll make it quick.”
Parker exhaled, willing herself to be strong. She didn’t have to entertain this. It was beyond reasonable to reassert those professional boundaries. But, that body of hers had other plans. The line she drew in the sand being washed away as those memories replayed.
Thighs accidentally brushing together under the table, a shy smile in a dimly lit room that left her heart stranded. Bared, under the burning sun, desperate for another drop of her even if she knew how this would go.
They had only gone on one date.
In fact, it was hardly a date.
They’d been short staffed like always. Samira was helping out with the night-shift. Throughout the night, they often found themselves working on the same cases. When morning came and they were sleep delirious and hungry, Parker dragged her away to grab some food at a local, hole-in-the -wall restaurant. The pair vented about their frustrations and odd cases from that night. Crammed in a tiny booth, a wall of fake ivy behind them, and burning food heavy on their tongues.
They were more than a little tipsy. So, it was only a matter of time before the conversation veered away from work. At the time, she didn’t think the woman could handle talking about anything that wasn’t connected to a peer-reviewed journal, but with enough prodding they managed. Those cheeky jokes, well-placed observations, and refreshing, genuine attitude hit differently outside of scrubs.
Reliable, if not excitable, perfectionist. Soft hearted. Strong, nimble hands and decisive speech. It was admittedly attractive. The realization didn’t hit hard, it felt perfectly natural. Like rainfall drizzling a few minutes after a storm. Solid in her chest, thick in her throat as the evening went on.
If they had met in any other place at any other time, Parker would’ve already asked her out. So she didn’t waste any time handing off her number at the end of the night. A tentative offer hanging in the air between them. If she was interested--call. They’d navigate their work schedules and set up a real date. If not, she’d drop it altogether.
Samira didn’t call.
No harm, no foul.
Sure, Parker was disappointed, but it was the distance that followed that stung more. Surface level, nothing changed in their working relationship. However, the longer nothing changed, the more she realized how much she wished something did. That carefully curated distance, a rapidly inflating balloon that left no space for air or any other thoughts. As if the moment she gave into that impulse to ask for more, she couldn’t put it back in the box. That want--it was stuck on her spirit. There was nothing she could do, but wait until her interest faded.
For a while, she thought it did fade. She kept it pushing, even went on a few other dates that went okay, but didn’t interest her further. Then here comes Samira knocking at her window and Parker felt like she was back at square one again.
Raising her head, Parker unlocked the car, turning the music down. Now she heard every little detail as she slid inside. Fabric dragging across leather seats. The click of the door, a soft exhale as Samira sank in the heat. Relief blissfully flitting across her face, lips gently parting.
Parker tried not to commit the look to memory. Interest stirring as she considered where else she could make that expression. She buried the image as Samira finally settled in, turning towards her looking like a kicked puppy—or maybe Eeyore would be a better comparison. All droopy in the face, pouty in the lips.
“…How are you doing?” Samira asked with a well-placed caution.
Parker cleared her throat, studying the clock on her dashboard instead, the little hand and big hand ticking miserably slow, “Who’s asking?” she asked, wanting to skip the small talk. At their visible confusion, she elaborated, lifting her coffee to her lips as she spoke, “Is Dr. Mohan speaking to me or is this Samira?”
Realization dawned on Samira’s face and she sucked in her bottom lip, “Who do you want me to be?”
Parker took her sweet time sipping her coffee, letting it scald the roof of her mouth and swallowing slow, “I told you what I wanted.” And it's only grown since then. She’s not sure if one date can satisfy her at this point, but that wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own, “It’s your turn, remember?”
“Right,” Samira muttered to herself, eyebrows scrunching up then relaxing, “Sorry. It wasn’t fair to make you wait so long because I couldn’t…” she trailed off, shaking her head, “At the very least, I owe you an explanation if you’re open to it."
“I’m a big girl,” Parker said with a chuckle, though she was serious. Seeing her like this was odd in the way. Chin tucked to her chest, dark eyes lost. Faltering in a way she’d hadn’t witnessed in a long time, “You don't owe me anything if you’re not interested,” she said sincerely.
That was the mature thing to say. A younger version of herself would’ve lashed out, far too sensitive to rejection. Growing up, she’d always had a target on her back. She never had to come out. The world knew something was different ‘bout the way she moved before she hit grade-school. As such, she found herself always having to be the bigger person and put herself out there first to find any semblance of connection as a queer woman.
It often left her raw. Vulnerable to folks who weren’t always ready to handle what it meant to be living, breathing, and enduring with that label ‘cross your forehead. Sometimes she resented them. Other times, she was grateful that she was lucky enough to embrace that part of herself. She’s learned over time that despite how she might feel, there was always some nuance to be had. People go through shit all the time. Bruising and bumping into other folks without realizing it. Sometimes it wasn’t personal, sometimes it was just life--and it sucked for everyone involved.
In this instance, she also had ulterior motives. If she ripped the bandaid off, maybe she could get over her faster. This—was rather painful. It gave her a crumb of hope that there was something more to the situation. That she could figure out what was going on in Samira’s beautiful head.
Regardless, she braced herself for what came next.
Something shifted in Samira’s demeanor. Slow and deliberate, she lifted her chin, giving them a once over. The heat of her scrutiny made Parker’s stomach tight with anticipation. Then they locked eyes, Samira exhaled, licking her lips unconsciously, “I am interested,” she corrected, lifting her eyebrows as she was challenging them to state otherwise.
“Well then,” Parker’s mouth was dry. She cleared her throat, but that did nothing for her thirst. Belated surprise flooded her senses, leaving her buzzing. Her lips twitched, a smug grin threatening to take over, but she resisted, “I’ll take that explanation."
Nodding to herself, Samira launched into it without hesitation, “It’s silly saying this, but I kept chickening out,” she admits, pained even as she recounted it, “When you asked me out, I was rather surprised. I’d never thought you’d see me that way, but I realized the idea…made me excited.”
Like cold, fresh air filling her lungs. Time slowing, the city lights pulsing. Syrupy warmth outlining Parker kindly as everything went into focus. Everything was perfect. The crinkle in her eyes, that careless, easy going smile. The flash of teeth striking her soft, beckoning her closer.
It was easy to avoid thinking about relationships. They were important in understanding and navigating her interactions with her patients, but it wasn’t something she paid any mind outside of work. She tried extending a hand and tending to her relationship with her mother, but it fell flat each time. Otherwise, she found that her lifestyle was incompatible to fostering any relationships.
It was clear where her strength lay and she’s accepted that more-often than not, she would be alone.
However, that night, for a brief moment looking at Parker, it felt possible. A kernel of curiosity being planted, rooting in her deep as the idea made itself at home. Connecting with someone always felt out of reach at her age. That night, however, proved that while it was still a deeply uncomfortable process…there were people out there who made it worth it.
Sheepishly, Samira brushed her hair out of her face, continuing, “Everytime I’d work up the courage to reach out, I’d second guess myself, make excuses or…avoid it all together. I couldn’t understand why I was acting that way and I…” her head dropped lower, eyes fixed on her gloved hands, “I don’t have… a lot of people to talk to about this, so it took me a minute to get my head sorted,” she laughed bitterly, “Then I realized how much time I was wasting. I’d never be ready enough, but I knew I wanted to see you again. So I thought I’d find you and figure it out from there.” At this point, the tension had eased from her shoulders. She then added on quietly, “It's easier when I can see your face.”
“You like it that much?” Parker teased under her breath, unable to help herself.
Samira twisted a lock of her hair with a hum. A hint of a smile creeping on her face, lips folding to hide it away.
Cute.
Parker exhaled, getting more than a little distracted. She needed to focus, otherwise she’d get caught up and forget they were having a conversation. Taking it all in, the details did leave her puzzled. She didn’t think her offer would intimidate her so much, “Is this the first time you’ve considered women?” she asked, curious.
Samira shook her head, “Not exactly, but it has been awhile since I’ve been with… anyone.”
At that, Parker paused, turning that over in her head, “How long is awhile?” she wondered outloud, gauging Samira’s reaction as she guessed, “A few months...years?” The other woman stiffened, eyes glossy and mouth rigid. Stopping for a second, another possibility came to mind, “...Have you ever been romantically involved with someone before?” she asked again, tone far gentler than before.
Without permission, a tear slipped down Samira’s face. She was quick to brush it away with the back of her palm, blinking the remaining tears away promptly, “I could be considered a bit of a late bloomer,” she said with great difficulty, mouth twisting, “Sorry, I know it isn’t exactly an attractive trait, so I understand if it--” she froze, eyes blowing wide as her breath hitched.
Parker leaned over into her space, cupping her chin and turning her so she faced them. Peering down at her with a resolute, unwavering stare, “Understand if I what? Cause I sho’ know you don’t think I’d get scared away by something like that,” she muttered, offended at the thought. Thumb stroking the curve of her chin, she continued, “Some people get into stuff like that early--other people start late. Some people don’t care for dating at all. All in all, how you’ve lived your life is nothing to be ashamed of,” she said evenly, leaving no room for argument “And it definitely isn’t something you need to apologize for. ”
“...Noted,” Samira said, breathy, making no moves to pull away. Brown eyes fixed, as if in a daze.
The feeling was mutual, Parker making no moves to move away either. Caught up in how soft her skin feels in her hands and the dark shine of her eyes. Samira melted into her touch without a second thought, trusting her completely. A sweetness you couldn’t help but be drawn into. All her carefully controlled impulses were unraveled as she was lured into her orbit.
An alarm cut through the silence of the car, snapping them out of it.
“Fuck,” Parker mumbled a curse, shooting an annoyed glance over to her phone.
Unphased, Samira didn’t waste another second. Finger gently hooking around Parker’s chain and tugging them forward to close the distance. Chaste, sweet, almost sloppy. A desperate edge to the kiss, breath ragged against her lips.
Letting out a surprised noise, Parker hand swept the curve of her cheek, tilting her head. She went in for seconds, taking her time as she coaxed the woman into a deeper kiss, letting her get a feel for the sensation at her own pace. Hands tangling in her locs, hot at her nape, clutching at the front of her scrubs. Grasping for some semblance of stability as she was bent over, pressed into the seats, and kissed senseless.
Parker expected their to be some hesitation about intimacy due to her inexperience, but Samira seemed to approach it the same way she did most unknown variables. Methodical. Eager. Incredibly responsive to feedback.
In turn, Parker made sure to provide a suitable, educational environment.
That annoying-ass alarm went off for a while before she relented to it's demands. Licking her lips, Parker finally pulled away.
Samira let out a soft whine, reluctant to separate. She was left slumped over in her seat, flushed. Parted lips, swollen as she tried to catch her breath. Scarf somewhere at her feet, gloves gone, her coat partially unzipped.
“You workin’ tomorrow?” Parker asked, breath dusting her mouth as she leaned in for another quick kiss.
Samira shook her head, closing her eyes briefly as she quietly reoriented herself. All that anxious energy disappeared, leaving her relaxed, movements lethargic. It was a good look on her. She’d look even better laid out in Parker’s bed.
At that thought, Parker resisted the urge to lean in for another kiss, knowing she’d never make it inside if she entertained this further, “Can I see your phone?”
Pretty and compliant, Samira handed the phone over without much thought. She leaned over, hair tickling Parker’s chin as she watched them with vague interest. Parker raised the phone high, snapping a picture of the pair and sending it to herself so she now had Samira’s number, “I’ll call you when I get off work,” she started, then her eyes caught a glimpse of the clock, “Shit--we’re late for hand offs.”
Only at that did Samira straighten up, scrambling alongside them to readjust her clothes and head out of the car, trailing behind Parker. By the time they got inside, she was mostly functioning again. Enough so that she finally noticed the time.
“You said we were late?” Samira asked them, sending them a confused, side-long glance, lifting her phone to show that they were right on time.
Parker’s hands not so subtly bumped into hers, humored by the question, but before she could explain, the sound of sirens cut her off. An ambulance whipping around the corner outside.
She’d explain another time.