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The entire shift had been like wading through high waters, not quite drowning but an experience similar enough that Samira could feel something eerily close to oxygen deprivation backing her into a corner.
One of her patients- a little boy- died, and every single time she took a breath after doing compressions for 20 minutes, it was as if shards of glass glittered her heart, poking and prodding harshly in the deep tunnels of her arteries. Samira fought through it regardless. She kept her head down and worked because her other patients deserved the best, and either way, she had no other choice.
The ED had been understaffed all day; frantic rushes of all the people they had, attending to 3 patients at once rather than taking their time, slowly, and it was having an impact far greater than Samira could have prepared herself for.
So.
Instead of staying for overtime like usual, Samira had only shrugged her worn hoodie over her shoulders, and yanked her backpack on before she walked straight out into the biting cold. She was meant to go straight home—she had planned it all already. She was going to drive the 18 minute route, past the small family owned department store that she always made sure to visit when she had a day off, and down the long stretch of gravel until she reached the door to her apartment building and could, finally, unravel in the not so comfortable emptiness of her own space.
Her plan had exploded quickly after that.
By the time Samira had opened the door to her well loved Corolla, everything felt wrong. From the way her breathing rapidly plummeted, a quick dip from stable to something unnamed, shaky. Or how her fingers tapped an off beat rhythm against the wheel, a couple times straight up missing the leather, and sending her fist unceremoniously slamming into the meat of her own thigh. The rough ridges of her keys meeting the skin of her palm, rubbing raw. It was all too much.
That’s how she ended up here. Now.
Samira hisses as she attempts to steady her breathing—to bring herself out of the ever darkening abyss, clawing at anything tangible and solid in-front of her that she can reach, but the unbearable sinking dread sits like lead in her stomach, weighing her down, anchoring her to the drivers seat of her car.
Panic attacks.
Samira knows the signs of one, how to spot them in patients; rapid heartbeat, sweating profusely, feeling faint, shortness of breath, a heavy numbness in your fingers. Still, it all feels inescapable when you’re a physician who knows what’s wrong, understands the diagnosis and what, in theory should help, and yet you can’t will yourself to be better.
She knows it’s a panic attack, born from the terrible day she’s had and anxiety and grief and guilt and pulling herself insanely taut in every which direction, but the tiny ‘what if?’ box in the back of her mind screams cardiac issues and her stomach seizes, lurching forward.
”Fuck,” She whispers, a pained curse in the dark, with nothing and no-one but the throbbing in her temples for company.
A few more seconds of deliberation pass when Samira decides she has to make a choice, either sit in the car and possibly—no definitely, throw up everywhere, or pull herself out of this and get some fresh air into her lungs. So she drags the dead weight of her arm up, fumbling a little with the hinge of the door until she gathers enough strength to jarringly shove it open. The crisp air that floods in feels like a fucking dream.
”Hey, you okay?”
Somewhere, across the barren lot, a figure speeds up their pace and for all of thirty seconds Samira is sure an angel is coming towards her. Then, the glow of the street lights brighten, painting the stranger in a soft warm haze and Samira’s head spins as she takes in messy bangs that she’d recognise anywhere. Her girlfriend. Of two and a half months. Who definitely does not know about her anxiety and how bad it can get.
”Cassie? What’re you—“
The white spots that cloud Samira’s vision don’t completely dull Cassie’s expression as she steps closer, eyebrows furrowed and lip worried between her teeth.
”Shift ended early, not important—what’s happening ‘Mira? Feeling okay, sweetheart?”
Samira has always liked Cassie’s voice, and how it drips like sticky honey, sugary and homey in the best way. Or how her lips part as she speaks, just barely flashing her teeth before she lets her mouth fall shut again. That’s another thing Samira’s always liked, tried to replicate, taken notice of—Cassie’s patience, how she deliberates and thinks and ponders before all else. How she makes everyone feel seen.
Samira feels incredibly fucking seen right now, but maybe that’s just what happens when someone as kind and thoughtful as Cassie McKay devotes her attention to you. It feels like a gift.
The nicknames make Samira smile, distracting her slightly from the still present stinging in her fingers as she tries to meet Cassie halfway, only to stumble the second her Docs touch cement.
”Woah, careful there, I got you. I’m here. You gonna tell me what’s wrong, baby?”
The feel of Cassie’s strong hands bracketing her waist to keep her upright eases the strain on Samira’s chest, drawing her attention elsewhere as she feels warmth run through her entire body despite the weather. She feels better, not marginally, but enough so to make it that she doesn’t throw up the second that she stands.
”It’s nothing, really, ‘m good. Thanks, Cass.” Samira lies easily, though she makes no attempt to move out of Cassie’s grip, instead leaning closer into her.
”Doesn’t look like nothing to me, you’re sweaty, shaky, pupils are wide and—“ Cassie shifts, slamming the car door shut before bringing her fingers to press lightly against Samira’s neck, feeling for her pulse point, “Your heart’s racing.”
At least she says nothing about how Samira is practically cuddling her in the middle of the parking lot. A plus. Silver linings and all that.
Before Samira can make up an excuse, Cassie continues, “So, how about we sit and you tell me what’s up? Cause I’m sure as hell not leaving you alone in the dark, especially not like this.”
Samira feels torn—on the one hand, she really doesn’t want to mess up Cassie’s night, she probably has a shift tomorrow and she needs the rest, but on the other side, she really doesn’t want to be alone right now. The idea of sitting in her apartment with only music to fill the expansive silence sounds less appealing by the second.
”You really don’t have—“ Samira starts, fingers still trembling uselessly by her sides but Cassie’s quick to interrupt, bringing her hand up to gently move a strand of hair out of Samira’s eyes, and behind her ear. The move so soft and gentle and delicate that all Samira wants is for her to do it again, and again, and again.
”I know, I want to, okay? So please, will you come sit down with me and take a breather?” The pleading look in Cassie’s eyes is deeply unfair, how is Samira meant to say no?
She doesn’t.
The relieved breath Cassie gives once Samira nods is unnecessarily cute. Especially coupled with the way her eyes crinkle around the edges, and how she blushes a little when she realises her fingers are still gently touching Samira’s hips from where she steadied her a few minutes ago.
”There’s a bench just down here—kind of my own little thinking spot.” Cassie says after they start walking, as soon as she eases her grip, backs away and awkwardly stuffs her hands into the pockets of her scrubs. She’s not normally shy like this, it’s kind of completely endearing.
”You take all your girls here, Cass?”
”Only the pretty residents, but don’t tell them I said that,” Cassie shakes her head, smiling as the flush on her cheeks returns quickly, a flood of light pink like it never left. Samira’s feeling better, clearly, if she’s up for jokes like that, which soothes Cassie’s nerves slightly, though she still has a ball of worry fumbling around in her gut.
Seeing Samira stressed always makes Cassie upset, pissed off with the world they live in, especially when Robby is always rushing Samira to hurry up when she’s just trying to establish a bond with her patients.
Samira laughs quietly, bumping her shoulder into Cassie’s, “Secret’s safe with me.”
When they get there the bench is aged, with slightly bent wooden slats that are almost sharp beneath Samira’s thighs, and scratching just slightly whenever she shifts position, a barely there pressure against the fabric of her scrubs. Cassie has her knees up to her chest, eyes carefully trained on Samira’s fingers where they pick at her cuticles, before Cassie takes her hand to pause the actions.
”You feeling any better, sweetheart?”
Samira is quiet for a minute, still getting used to the sensation of Cassie’s slightly rough palm in her own, and just how right it seems. She takes a deep breath in before she speaks, feeling guilty for making Cassie waste her time like this.
”I just—today was—with the ED being understaffed and Princess off sick and Robby hounding me like five different times and—“ Samira huffs, trying to explain her feelings in a way that doesn’t make it sound like she’s unable to do her job. She can, really, today was just—
”—Something else, huh?” Cassie finishes easily, because she gets it, of course she does. Cassie’s always been able to understand people, read them even if they tried to keep their story under wraps, and something about that empathy extending to Samira makes her eyes feel a little wet.
”Yeah. Something like that.”
Cassie’s hand gives her own a gentle squeeze, her thumb tracing circles into the backs of Samira’s knuckles. The movement is reassuring, a warm embrace that fights against the cold breeze as they sit there, feeling like the only two people in the world.
They’re not. The almost full waiting room of the ED proves that, but Samira finds it comforting regardless. She quite likes the idea of being alone with Cassie McKay if the world ends—maybe it would make it all worth it. If the sun decided to explode, Samira would still have her own light by her side, a yellow glow of heat that holds her hand and calls her, ‘baby’.
”That’s not all of it, is it ‘Mira?” Cassie prompts, not rushing or forceful with the way she says it, just a kind type of coaxing that washes away most of Samira’s lingering tension, the ebbing of waves, surging backwards.
”Had a panic attack,” Samira mumbles. “In my car.” The words feel like straight ash on her tongue, drying her mouth out quickly, sucking away all of the moisture and only leaving behind the rotten, bitter clumps of emotion. But Cassie doesn’t leave, she doesn’t roll her eyes or tell Samira she’s a burden. She only tightens her grip and shuffles a little closer, until she can feel rather than see the next time that Samira inhales.
Thankfully, Cassie always seems to know what to do; when to respond with gentle whispers and when to stay quiet, letting Samira take her time. She stays silent now as her hand comes up, a strong arm wrapped around Samira’s shoulder as she pulls her in for a side hug.
”Just—the ED was so fucking loud, and my patient he—“ Samira’s breath catches, cracking painfully on the last word, breaking off into quiet. Cassie’s heard about the case; the 4 year old boy that she had seen admitted a week ago for a high fever, and how he had become septic at some point during the never-ending shift of torture today. “It was so fucking much Cass, it all just—the second I got in my car it felt like I was—fucking suffocating.”
Cassie runs her hand down Samira’s back, soothing her quietly, “I know, fuck, I know baby I’m so sorry. Wasn’t your fault, just a shitty fucking world we live in.”
Samira sniffles as she buries her face in Cassie’s shoulder, “So fucking unfair. He was—fuck, he was just a kid, Cass.”
Nodding, Cassie lets her fingers carefully run through silky dark strands of hair, combing it, mindful of any tangles as she tries to be as gentle as possible. All she ever wants is to be soft with Samira, to treat her right, give her what she deserves. To be there for her when she needs tenderness.
Then, “You have these often?” The question isn’t accusatory, just simple curiosity laced with the earnestness that Cassie always possesses. Their relationship is still new, slowly discovering things about eachother that aren’t just limited to coworker small talk. Samira didn’t think to mention the panic attacks, she hasn’t had one in months, until now.
”Used to, started after my dad—“ Cassie knows what the pause means, and she drops a soft kiss to Samira’s forehead as she waits for her to gather enough breath to speak again, “They stopped, for a while. I thought I was getting better, no, I was getting better Cass, I swear—“
Cassie shakes her head, tilting Samira’s chin up to maintain eye contact even in the slightly awkward position they find themselves in on the bench. “I’m not judging you, we all have our own baggage, fuck, I know I do. I just— I hate that you had to go through all of that alone.”
Samira exhales, a tiny, hot puff of air that Cassie can feel against her neck that warms her all over.
”Baby, you’re not a failure because you had a panic attack. Just means you’re human, alright?”
”Still sucks though,” Samira says lowly, still faintly embarrassed by being so vulnerable, by being so easy to understand.
”Majorly sucks.”
Just as she goes to adjust herself so that she can nuzzle further into Cassie’s arms, Samira is met by a hand gently pushing her backwards. Her eyebrows furrow but not for long as Cassie strips herself of her dark green jacket, and guides it over Samira’s shoulders before pulling her back in. The fabric smells like Cassie’s cologne, strong cedar and something else that’s so distinctly, completely Cassie that it makes Samira’s head spin.
”Aren’t you gonna get cold?” Samira asks, though she’s already made herself comfortable beneath the heavy weight and Cassie just laughs.
”Don’t worry about me, just relax for a second.” Samira would argue, if she could, but the exhaustion is drilling down to the marrow of her bones at this point, carving out a space with a 10 blade and making a home so deep that she can’t even pretend to keep her eyes open.
”Thanks Cass,” Samira whispers quietly against Cassie’s collar.
Cassie peppers a few kisses along Samira’s hairline in lieu of a response, breathing in the sweet smell of her shampoo before pulling back to look at her. Really look. The lines of stress and worry have eased, now smooth, and Cassie sighs weakly, grateful that Samira can get some rest. Even if it is just on a crappy park bench by the hospital.
By the time Cassie’s urging her to wake, it’s been more than a second and breathing feels more natural to Samira, less like a manual task and closer to something that can fade in the background of monotonous tasks and fuzz around the edges until it’s all one far away blur in the distance.
”Come on, let’s get you home.” Cassie whispers, rubbing at Samira’s shoulder until she regretfully sits up and waits until a hand is pulling her to stand.
The reminder of, ‘home’, makes Samira’s gut churn slightly. Her apartment isn’t home, not really. Sure, it’s got 4 walls, a bed and a kitchen, with a decently sized bathroom surprising for the amount of rent she pays, but it’s not home. It’s just a place to recharge before she returns to work. That’s all.
”Okay—shit it’s late.” Samira swears when she checks the time on her phone, fishing it out of the pocket of her scrub pants. “I didn’t mean to—“
”Baby, what have I told you about apologising? I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. You’re not making me do anything. I like spending any time I can get with you, okay?” Cassie says, her hands coming up to cradle soft skin and searching warm brown eyes for a second before she gets a nod, and presses her lips to Samira’s.
Once they pull apart, and Cassie has vanilla chapstick spread across her mouth, they begin to walk up to the parking lot. Though on the journey back, their hands are laced together.
Then an uncomfortable feeling, closely akin to dread builds in Samira’s chest as she spots her license plate. Flickers of being unable to breathe come flooding back. She really doesn’t want to go back to her apartment alone, but she also doesn’t want to burden Cassie. The relationship is still new. Asking to stay over after all of this seems like, too big of a step somehow. Like she’s diving headfirst without learning how to swim.
Cassie must notice, whether it’s the way Samira’s grip has gone limp against her own, or how her eyes have gone slightly glassy as she looks over at her car, she’s not entirely sure, but she knows something is up.
”’Mira? Baby?”
”Shit, yeah Cass? Sorry, just spaced out.” The lie feels clunky on her tongue, weird and not at all convincing. Cassie quirks her eyebrow, the tiny crease between them in full force as she brushes her wispy bangs away from her eyes.
”I’m parked over here, but we’ll grab your car tomorrow.” Cassie says, gesturing to the far side of the lot, and Samira feels relief pool from her cranium to her toes as she processes the words. When Cassie said they’re going home, she meant to her own place; the cozy townhouse with a garden just big enough for Harrison to kick a ball around, and a double bed that smells of only Cassie all of the time, and the fuzzball of a fat orange cat that slinks around in the sun all day.
As Samira thinks it over, she realises Cassie was right to say, ‘home’. Though truthfully it’s wherever Cassie is, that’s home. But it all seems slightly too much to say for a relationship that hasn’t even reached the 3 month mark yet, despite being coworkers for years, so Samira nods and bites back the tears as she pulls Cassie in for a bruising hug.
”I’ve got you, okay? Now, hurry up. As cute as you look in my jacket, you’ll look better in my sweats.” Cassie teases, kissing Samira’s jaw as she drags her over to her truck, though it’s not much of a fight as Samira pretty much jumps to get in.
The tan leather of the seats are always warm and the interior is old fashioned in a way that perfectly screams Cassie. The only difference from the last time Samira was here, is that now there’s stuff stuck to the dash—most noticeably, a strip of black and white photos from when Harrison begged to go to the arcade, and they’d ended up in a photo booth. One of the frames is just the two of them, Cassie’s fingers splayed gently across Samira’s face as they kissed. Looking at the photo, Samira’s heart swells, her hand coming up to trace the glossy surface of the paper.
”You’re cute,” Samira says as she glances back at Cassie, who’s now focusing on the road with blushing cheeks.
”Pretty sure that’s all you.” Cassie deflects, shaking her head as she places her free hand on Samira’s thigh, making small circles. Samira rolls her eyes but says nothing as they drive to the low rhythm of one of her favourite songs on the playlist—one Cassie made for her a few weeks ago.
Samira watches the buildings and bright city lights pass by, each a haze through the blurry window, the view smudged by water droplets trickling gently down the glass. She doesn’t know when it started falling, but she’s not complaining at the sight. Rain has always been calming to her, alleviating her nerves easily. Plus, Cassie always looks really cute with wet hair, even more so when she huffs about the weather messing with her bangs, mussing red strands in every direction.
Cassie parks up quickly, muttering under her breath about getting soaked as she kills the engine, unbuckles her seatbelt and goes to get the door for Samira before she can do it herself.
”What a gentleman,” Samira teases, stifling a laugh as Cassie runs a damp hand through her hair, trying to make it look less awkward.
”For you? Always,” Cassie flirts. She has goosebumps across her bare arms, because she gave Samira her jacket and she feels a little bad as she watches Cassie shiver. Before she can apologise, Cassie’s levelling her with a look she’s become very familiar with recently, and she acquiesces.
”Just get inside, I’d really hate it if you froze to death right now.” Samira orders, a small smile spreading across her face, as they eagerly get out of the rain and to Cassie’s doorstep.
”Got it.”
The house is quiet once they walk in, kicking off their shoes and Samira’s upper layers before they reach the kitchen. Sunny is sprawled out across the countertop, tail lazily flopping back and forth as Samira goes to rub his belly, orange fluff soft beneath her fingers.
”Hey little guy,” Samira whispers, petting him as Cassie watches lovingly from the doorway. The sight makes her heart race a little, seeing Samira so comfortable in her space, like she was always meant to be there. The house had always felt so bare when Harrison was at his dad’s, and even the addition of the cat wasn’t much help, until Samira came along. Breaking down the rest of Cassie’s walls and fitting herself into all the empty spaces she could—the intercostal spaces between Cassie’s ribs, and somewhere in her heart too.
”He likes you, y’know? He’s always meowing when you’re not here.”
Samira turns at the sound of her voice, hand paused on Sunny’s belly as she watches Cassie cross the room. “It’s not just me—he does it for Harrison too.”
”So what you’re saying is, he pretty much just hates me?” Cassie laughs, standing by Samira’s side as her point is argued immediately when Sunny meows for Samira to move her hand again.
Playfully, Samira winces and shrugs, “You’ll have to ask him.”
Cassie swats at her arm as she goes to pet Sunny too and the cat quickly stops his race-car like purring. “Fuck.”
”It’s cause you’re too similar, actually, he really reminds me of you.”
Cassie frowns, “What does that even mean?”
With another shrug, Samira just laughs and leaves Sunny with one last pet before she walks to Cassie’s bedroom down the hall. “Ginger and adorable.”
”Oh my god,” Cassie laughs to herself, warmth rushing violently through her veins as she pats Sunny’s head before she follows after her. The bedroom is cosy, with dim orange bathing everything in a soft glow from the bedside lamps Samira has flicked on.
When Cassie opens the door, Samira is standing by the foot of the bed, just waiting as she takes a few deep breaths. She’s not completely nervous, but she’s exhausted from everything that’s happened today, and while she’s slept here before, it still feels new.
Thankfully, not that she ever would, Cassie doesn’t rush. She lets the door softly fall shut behind her as she takes Samira in. “Food or clothes, first?”
Samira’s grateful for the one or another question, she’s too tired to make real decisions right now. “Clothes, please.”
Cassie nods and gives her a gentle smile as she moves over to the dresser, pulling out an old navy shirt with faded letters across the back, the she passes it over before asking, “Sweats or boxers?”
Samira thinks about it, sweats are more comfortable but the house is already warm, and Cassie runs hot, especially when she sleeps. Not that it’s a negative—Samira loves when it’s colder in the morning, and she can leach off of Cassie’s body heat. Plus, they’ll be under thick covers.
”Not sweats, it’s hot.” Cassie nods again, grabbing a blue checked pair for her, giving her a kiss on the temple before she grabs a similar pair for herself and a worn hoodie.
They change quickly, eager to get out of their scrubs and into soft cotton instead. Normally, Samira would shower before bed, considering she hates the feeling of bringing work home, but she’s so tired and imagining the hot spray of water down her aching back makes her want to recoil. Once they’re done, they pad to the kitchen again, smiling as they see Sunny still hasn’t shifted from his spot.
”I’m thinking pizza—that okay?” Cassie asks faintly, guiding Samira to the couch to sit with a hand on warm skin beneath her shirt. Cassie’s shirt. She smiles at the sight of Samira in her old clothes.
”Sounds good. But no—“
”—pineapple, I know baby, just relax and let me deal with it, alright?” Cassie interrupts smoothly, easily filling the gaps and Samira feels a weird tingling in her stomach at how well Cassie knows her. It’s just pizza, but it’s not.
It’s nice. More than nice. It’s good.
Once Cassie’s got her phone out, flicking through all of the different options until their food is ordered, Samira speaks.
”Thanks for today—“ Cassie goes to shake her head but Samira shushes her, “I know you’re gonna say it’s fine, and it’s no big deal, but it is a big deal to me, Cass. You being there for me. It means a lot.”
Cassie hums quietly, shifting closer until Samira can rest her head on her shoulder. “Always, sweetheart. Okay? You need anything, ever, give me a call and I’ll be right there. Never gonna be mad at you for needing something.”
There’s a deep sincerity laced through her words and it’s all a lot; sitting here, in Cassie’s house, on her couch, in her clothes as they wait to eat dinner together. Samira thinks she wants to do it again, and again, for the rest of her life.
Cassie grabs the food when the doorbell rings, and they end up beneath the covers, eating pizza in bed and breaking into fits of laughter when Cassie accidentally smears ranch down her chin.
”You’re a mess,” Samira huffs, though it’s all light teasing as she wipes it away with her thumb and a napkin, before kissing her softly on the cheek.
”A little, but aren’t we all?” Cassie counters, gaze locked on her girlfriend’s face as she takes in the slope of Samira’s jaw, the beauty of her wide brown eyes and how she looks ethereal despite literally just sitting there, doing nothing.
”Okay Shakespeare—relax.”
Cassie laughs again as she leaves Samira with a soft kiss so she can throw away the empty boxes and shove some of the leftovers in the fridge. She does a few things around the kitchen, less for them to deal with in the morning, and hums when she’s finished washing the last of the dishes.
Carefully, she picks up the heavy ball of fur, ignoring his soft meow of complaint, and shuts all the house lights off so it’ll be easier for them to fall asleep. Once Cassie gets back to the bedroom, she drops Sunny off onto his cat tree in the corner, despite being well aware that he’ll climb under the blankets with them in just a few minutes, and turns her gaze to Samira.
Her breathing has evened out, calm and serene as she shifts a little to change position. Technically, she’s on Cassie’s side of the bed, but she finds she doesn’t mind as she climbs in beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding.
She snores softly, a trait that Cassie would find completely annoying on anyone else and entirely precious on Samira. The sound could honeslty lull her to sleep, she thinks as she flicks the lamps off, feels Sunny settle right at the edge of the bed and closes her eyes.
”G’night Cass,” Samira mumbles sleepily, leaning back into Cassie’s embrace when she feels a hand slung over her stomach.
”Sleep well, baby.” She wants to say those 3 words, the ones that threaten to roll off of her tongue at any given moment, but now isn’t the time, nor the day, so she takes all the love contained in the phrase and presses it against Samira’s hairline in a tender kiss, before she lets sleep claim her in its comforting grip.