Work Text:
“You should be more romantic,” Becca muses, nudging Mel with her big toe.
Mel’s head snaps up from her phone. She nearly fumbles the bowl of popcorn between them as she tries to shield the screen from her nosy sister. “Hey, mind your own business. And who made you the expert?”
Becca rolls her eyes. “Adam always calls me cute names. Like sweetie and honey. I especially like ‘babe.’” She gives Mel a judgmental once-over. “You only ever call Samira ‘Samira.’”
“That’s her name,” Mel argues, though she feels her face heat. It took her weeks to even stop calling her Dr. Mohan when they were alone together at the hospital. She thinks about Samira’s soft smiles, her gentle hands, the way she murmurs in Tamil in bed when she’s still half-asleep and her lips are buried in Mel’s shoulder.
Samira is so romantic without even trying. Just the curl of her dark hair over her forehead makes Mel swoon, which isn’t something she ever thought she’d do. Samira isn’t much for pet names, either, but sometimes she’ll glance at Mel with liquid-dark eyes and it feels like flirting, no words needed.
Mel opens her texts back up and types quickly.
I’m excited for our date tomorrow, beautiful.
She hits send, and ten seconds later, she receives a string of emojis, ranging from “shocked face” to “kissy face” to “pink hearts.” Then her phone rings.
Becca laughs as Mel grins at Samira’s name. “I told you! I am the expert!”