Archive of Our Own

"When is Maman going to be home?" Sami asks, hours after the sun has set. Trinity had honestly started to think he'd fallen asleep while watching the cartoons she put on for him and she startles slightly at the sound of his painfully innocent, drowsy words.

"I'm not sure, bud," Trinity says with a frown, checking the time on her phone. It's already well past when Baran usually would have texted that she was on her way home. Her notifications remain stubbornly empty. "You know how busy she can be."

"I guess," he sighs, kicking his heels against the couch. He turns his head up to look at her with wide, imploring eyes. "You're not going to make me go to bed before she gets here, right? Maman always says I'm allowed to stay up until she gets home to say goodnight."

Trinity squints at him, searching his face for any hint of mischief. "I can't tell if you're lying to me or not." It wouldn't be the first time Sami's gotten her into hot water with his mother. He knows she's a pushover for him and uses that information accordingly.

"I'm not!" He protests, sitting up a little straighter and tugging insistently on her sleeve. "It's a rule. Maman says."

Trinity runs a hand through her hair, briefly racking her brain for any memory of the bedtime rules. She's probably already broken them by letting Sami watch TV at 9 pm. It's the summer, though, and he doesn't have school right now so she's honestly not sure if that changes things. "If I let you stay up late and you get me into trouble with your mother, I'm never buying you pizza for dinner again." As if Sami hadn't been the more responsible one on that front, anyway, begging her to order a veggie pizza. What seven-year-old wants to put vegetables on pizza in the first place?

Sami gasps at the threat and climbs up to sit on his knees so that they're face-to-face. "Well, that's not going to happen because I'm not lying." He sticks his tongue out at her. Trinity does it right back at him.

And, fuck it, she might as well let the kid get a glimpse of his mom before sending him off to sleep. "Fine. Go change into your PJs though, so you're ready."

"Okay!" He scrambles off the couch in eagerness, nearly tripping and falling directly into the sharp edge of the coffee table. Trinity steadies him with a hand on his shoulder, just enough pressure to keep him balanced. "You haven't seen my new Geometry Dash ones yet, have you? Stay here, I'll be right back!"

Trinity doesn't know what Geometry Dash is but she imagines she's about to find out. "Pick up your room while you're at it!" She calls after him as he runs off, his feet pounding up the stairs in a lively staccato pattern. She stands to start organizing the mess they've made in the common areas throughout the day, figuring she might as well take on her own share of the chores.

Trinity has been off work for exactly one day this week. Today being the sole stretch of twenty-four hours where nobody could page her overhead or shove a pediatric chart into her hands with the insistence that she was the best of the residents with them—and isn't the point that the other residents should be trying to improve their weaker areas, why is it suddenly her responsibility to take every patient under the age of eighteen? Her plans had mostly involved her sleeping in until noon. She had imagined Baran waking her up at pre-dawn just long enough to kiss her before leaving for work, whispering apologetically about how she wished she could stay.

Instead, Baran's childcare had fallen through the night before and Trinity couldn't bear to watch her stress about something so easy to fix so she had woken up at six-thirty in Baran's bed to Sami standing at the side of it, two feet from her face and in Minecraft pajamas while solemnly asking for chocolate chip waffles for breakfast. Trinity had known Sami for plenty of time now but mostly it was under Baran's supervision, guiding the time so that Trinity didn't have to flounder around for things to entertain a first-grader. She had improvised the best she could. They'd had waffles upon request. Afterwards, she had taken him to the park in an attempt to excise some of the boundless energy from his body, where Sami had promptly run laps around Trinity while begging her to climb all over the death trap of a climbing structure with him. She had texted Baran after that to suggest enrolling the kid in rock climbing classes.

Baran's house has not survived the day unscathed. Trinity had done her best to clean as she went. The kitchen is reasonably tidy if Baran doesn't open the dishwasher and realize that she enlisted Sami to be the one to load it, even though he seemed to have no concept of how to organize the dishwasher racks. The living room, however, looks like a child-sized tornado came through and tossed everything around. There is a blanket fort slumping sadly in the corner, which had been an unfortunate reminder that Trinity spent most of her childhood in regimented sports training and had no idea how to do frivolous things like build forts and play pretend. Sami hadn't seemed to mind, more than happy to boss Trinity around just like his mother does.

She gathers a small army of scattered action figures into her hands and starts returning them to the plastic bin under the console table. The house is temporarily quiet, with the soon promise of Sami barreling back into the living room to encourage Trinity to oh and ah at his brightly colored sleepwear.

She checks her phone again while she waits for that inevitable show and tell. Still nothing from Baran. Part of her had hoped she'd managed to miss the little buzz alert. The chasm of worry in her stomach expands another inch. It is not that Baran is never late—half the time they're late together. Trinity, more than anybody, is well aware of how much of a black pit of time-sucking despair the hospital can be. But Baran always texts.

Trinity opens their previous text thread again and she stares at the messages until the words blur slightly. All she wants is to will a response to her last message even though she knows that Baran is probably drowning in cases, is probably too exhausted to think about anything but putting one foot in front of the other. She locks the phone and tosses it onto the couch like it has personally insulted her. She knows she is being ridiculous. Baran is fine, probably wrist-deep in somebody's crush injury, hair starting to frizz out from the bun she had left the house with. She is fine.

Trinity bends to pick up a half-assembled Lego spaceship from the rug and immediately steps on a loose brick that blends into the patterned rug they had been tossed into. "Motherfuck—" She catches herself a little too late and inhales hard through her nose, hopping on one foot like a cartoon idiot. "Mother of pearl."

From upstairs, Sami yells, "You can say bad words, Maman says adults can make smart choices!" Damn his young and healthy ears, children hear everything you don't want them to.

"Your Maman is too optimistic for her own good," Trinity calls back, bending to retrieve the offending Lego and putting it on the coffee table where it can no longer attack her. Leave it to Baran to be teaching her son about socially acceptable language boundaries. "And don't repeat that at school!"

"I won't!"

Trinity simply does not believe him. She is considering the probability of Baran getting an email from his teacher about improper language when headlights wash briefly across the front window and flash into the living room. A second later, the soft mechanical hum of Baran's garage door starts up, and Trinity's body loses the majority of the tension it was holding. The anxiety in her throat that has been sitting tight and sour all evening dissolves so quickly that it almost chokes off her airway.

"Is that her?" Sami shouts, clearly equally as eagerly awaiting Baran's return.

"You're supposed to be getting dressed, " Trinity shouts back, because if this kid comes sprinting down the hall half-naked and Baran sees that Trinity has let him stay up past bedtime and kept him in a state of undress, Trinity will simply sink through the floor and melt into the center of the earth.

"I'm putting them on!"

There is a beat of silence, then the faint sound of Baran's car door shutting. Trinity wipes her hands on her sweatpants, suddenly conscious of the fact that she looks like she has been mauled by a daycare. The door from the garage opens and Trinity can't help that her feet carry her through the house without a thought. She doesn't care if it makes her seem overeager, they've been apart for going on fifteen hours now and all Trinity wants to do is get through bedtime so that she can curl up into Baran's side and never let go.

Trinity appears in the back mudroom before Baran has even managed to set down all of her stuff. She looks, for a moment, like all the bones have been removed from her body and only stubbornness and the tension in her muscles are keeping her upright. Her hair has, predictably, come loose from its bun in several places, soft curls escaping around her temples and at the nape of her neck. There is a line between her brows deep enough that Trinity wants to smooth it with her thumb. She is holding her purse in one hand and her keys in the other, but she does not seem entirely sure what to do with either. Baran blinks at Trinity as she appears in the doorway. For one second they just look at each other across the living room.

Then Baran exhales, a soft smile creeping onto her face as she hangs her keys on the designated post for them. "Hi, eshgham."

Trinity's chest aches with the flood of emotion that swells through it. "Hey," she murmurs back, and her voice comes out softer than she usually would allow it to. Maybe the nonstop motion of the day despite it being her day off had actually gotten to her. That and the overwhelming responsibility of taking care of Baran's physical manifestation of her entire heart that runs around like he has no care for bodily safety.

Baran's facial expression starts with palpable relief and moves quickly into guilt, which Trinity does not care for at all. She pushes off the doorframe she had taken to leaning against and walks closer, carefully extracting the purse out of Baran's iron-tight grip and resting the other palm at her elbow. She tilts her head in consideration.  "You didn't text," she says, a little confused and a lot worried. She can't help the words coming out of her mouth even though she knows they're both exhausted. The break in routine is so uncharacteristic. Baran has never forgotten to text before she starts driving home—it's so ingrained into their lives that Trinity is thrown, just for a moment, for what to do. Before Baran, she had never been one for keeping specific rituals but then they had started dating and suddenly she was being written into Baran's carefully planned weekly schedule. Now Trinity finds herself relying on those small consistencies to steady herself in their relationship.

Baran visibly deflates, which had not been Trinity's intention but once again she's put her foot in her mouth and it's too late to take the words back. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry." She rubs at her temples, a little harder than necessary. She uses the other hand to pat weakly at her scrub pants, making sure that she has her phone on her. "I was so happy to get to see you both, I completely forgot."

Trinity's pulse flutters in a way that is frankly concerning. "It's okay, I just would've gotten further through Sami's bedtime routine if I had known." So much for being a responsible babysitter. She's honestly surprised Sami hasn't already come somersaulting down the hallway and hurtling into Baran's legs.

"He's still up?" Baran looks startled as she stands up straighter. She glances over Trinity's shoulder like she, too, is expecting him to suddenly appear behind her.

Trinity's stomach drops straight through the floorboards. Fuck. "He said you let him stay up until you're home. B, I'm so sorry, he promised that he wasn't lying, I—"

"No, no, he's right, he's allowed to. He just usually ends up falling asleep no matter how hard he tries." Baran grimaces as she looks at the time on her watch.

Trinity tries to squash the feeling like she's done something wrong without realizing it by managing to entertain Sami well enough that he actually stayed awake longer than usual. She tries not to wince too noticeably. "He's changing into his pajamas right now. Why don't you go shower while I help him brush his teeth?"

"I can't ask you to—"

"You're not asking, I'm offering. In fact, I'm telling you to go hop in the shower before he sees you and derails the whole plan. It's not hair wash day, so it should only take ten minutes." It's a little embarrassing that Trinity knows the minute details of Baran's shower routine but Baran doesn't seem to be firing on all cylinders because she doesn't even blink. She just nods distractedly, biting her bottom lip.

"If you're sure."

"I am." Trinity slips behind her to lock the garage door and push lightly at Baran's shoulders to send her momentum forward and further into the house. "Go."

Baran starts moving but then suddenly stops look at Trinity like there is something she wants to say and does not have the energy to excavate. Her under-eye bags are darker than they usually are after a long shift. She continues to bite at the dry skin of her lips, pulling at the peeling tissue between her teeth. Any of Trinity's remaining irritation at the missing text evaporates so completely that it leaves behind a gaping hole that is filled in with tenderness for the love of her life and anger at anyone who contributed to Baran looking like this.

Trinity reaches up and cups the side of her face, thumb brushing once over the tired crinkles at the corner of her eye from squinting her way through the last few hours. Trinity wouldn't be surprised if she's hurtling towards sending herself into a migraine flare. "Please go shower," she urges. "I've got him for a little while longer."

Baran closes her eyes for half a second, leaning into her palm with a heaving sigh that tickles the skin of Trinity's wrist. "He wasn't too much, was he?" She asks, a rare hint of nerves peaking into her voice.

Trinity frowns. "Sami?" The thought would have never occurred to her to be annoyed by Sami's relentless reservoir of energy. She is, on the other hand, considering recommending putting the boy in as many sports as possible—no matter how much it scares the shit out of Trinity to send a child she cares for so deeply into the nebulous world of childhood athletics.

Baran opens her eyes again, giving her a disbelieving look as if to say, who else?

Trinity says the first honest thing that comes to mind which is, of course, "Baran, he's practically your twin. Of course, he was perfect."

For one second, all Baran does is stare at her, mouth opening without any apparent attempt to form a response. And then she's taking a final step into her space, fisting a hand into the front of her shirt, and kissing her breathless. It is not a particularly graceful kiss but Trinity has never been opposed to adapting if it means giving Baran what she wants. Baran is too tired for much coordination but still her knuckles are pressed hard against her sternum, and her mouth moves against Trinity's with a desperation that makes Trinity preen under the single-minded attention. All she can focus on is the overwhelming taste of the cinnamon gum Baran always chews before handoff.

Her hand lands on Baran's hip first, then slides around to the small of her back when Baran sways a little on her feet. That brings Trinity back to her senses enough to soften the kiss. "Okay," she murmurs against her mouth, trying to sound casual and not quite hitting the mark. "Thank you for that. Also, you're going to fall over."

Baran scoffs half-heartedly and then kisses Trinity again. "I missed you," she admits when she pulls away.

Trinity's fingers flex against the fabric at Baran's waist. "Yeah?" She asks, like an oaf. It's nice, mind-numbingly so, to know her presence is wanted like that.

"Yes," Baran says, quieter. Her eyes drop to Trinity's lips again, very briefly, a little hint to how much she's truly relishing their time together. "A lot."

Trinity's lungs seem to completely forget their purpose, making breathing switch from an autonomic function to a conscious process as she draws in a forcibly even breath. She touches Baran's face again, thumb dragging lightly beneath her eye and over the slope of her nose. "I'm glad you're home," she says, like that fixes anything. Like the hospital won't still be there tomorrow and they only have a mere eight hours before they'll be pulling into the parking lot again. She smiles sympathetically, a crooked twitch of her mouth upwards. "Go shower."

Baran opens her mouth, probably to protest again on sheer principle, but before she can, a door bangs open upstairs and there is the distinct sound of the pounding of excited footsteps.

"Maman!"

Baran's entire face morphs in an instant. It is startling every time Trinity sees it happen, even now, the difference between mother and partner and doctor, all of the pieces of Baran she keeps divided into separate parts. The maternal part of her rises, immediate and cellular, as if she hears Sami's voice and reorients every ounce of waning energy toward him. It terrifies Trinity sometimes despite her admiration of it, the sheer depth of how much Baran can love someone without restraint. Trinity wonders if the same switch happens for her.

Baran turns to face the entrance to the mud room and the hallway that leads to the stairs, face scrunching in concern at the speed with which her child seems to be descending them. "Sami joon, careful on the stairs."

"I am being careful!"

Trinity laughs at the indignation in his tiny voice. He is almost certainly not being careful. Trinity can intuit this from the pounding down the hallway sounding less like a child using stairs and more like a pound of bricks being thrown down them. Trinity winces, already picturing the pediatric head injury she would have to explain to the night shift ER docs, but Sami appears at the end of the hallway in one piece, socked feet sliding slightly on the hardwood as he rounds the corner and sprints full speed across the hardwood floors. He is, as promised, wearing new pajamas. They are violently bright green with little pixelated square monsters all over them.

Sami skids to a stop in front of Baran and throws himself at her legs with complete trust that she will catch the full weight of him. Baran does, bracing just enough to absorb the impact with a little oof that makes Trinity press a hand between her scapulae in hopes of adding a little support. Sami wraps both arms around her waist, face buried in her scrub top with no mind paid to the germ potential. So much for the shower Trinity had forced him to take after dinner. Baran's eyes close as she sinks into the embrace. One hand lands in his hair, cupping at the back of his head and tilting his chin up enough to be able to press a kiss to the crest of his forehead.

"You stayed awake," Baran murmurs into the top of his head.

Sami pulls back far enough to look up at her fully, chest puffed with pride. "Trinity let me."

"Did she?" She asks, with no accusation in her voice. They've already talked about it but still, Sami is so excited that they both decide to play along without even sharing a look.

Trinity raises both hands in playful surrender. "He said it was allowed. I didn't want to challenge the protocol without going through the proper channels."

Sami nods imperiously even though his nose crinkles in concentration at some of the faux professional language Trinity uses. "It's a rule."

Baran's mouth twitches. "It is a rule," she confirms, which makes Sami shoot Trinity a triumphant grin, a replica of how Baran looks at her when she wins an argument.

Trinity points at him. "Don't gloat. Nobody likes a braggart." She had been worried, the first couple of times she had spent with Sami, that her particular brand of humor might be too indelicate for a child of his age. Nobody has ever considered her soft or maternal, and god forbid if she upsets Baran's only child and the most important person in her life.

Sami just sticks his tongue out at her again, entirely unfazed. "Maman likes me."

"I love you," Baran corrects automatically, ruffling his loose mop of curls. "Whether or not you are a sore winner is an entirely separate issue."

Sami giggles and squeezes her again. Then, he pulls back and peers at her face with a sudden frown. "You look really tired," he says innocently.

"I am a little tired," she admits, never one to lie to her son.

"A lot tired," Trinity butts in, just to make a point. They've been loitering in this back room for much too long in her professional opinion. Hell, she had hoped to get Baran in the shower before her motherly duties were foisted back upon her, and yet here they are, arguing about bedtime.

Baran shoots her a scolding look, although Trinity mostly considers herself immune to it at this point in their relationship.

Sami's frown deepens in that sweet, earnest way he has when he is trying to solve a problem bigger than his vocabulary can fully hold. "Did someone be mean at work?"

Trinity thinks briefly of every person she has ever seen who has ever raised their voice at Baran, every consultant who has ever spoken to her as if her time is less valuable than theirs, every patient who has attempted to undermine her authority as the attending in the room. The resulting rush of protectiveness is so intense it makes her jaw ache with gritted tension.

Baran, infinitely more reasonable, shakes her head softly. "No, it was just busy."

Sami considers this, head tilted as his chin hovers lightly over her stomach. "Did somebody throw up on you?"

"Not today."

"Blood?"

"Yes, but I wore gloves."

"Cool." Sami leans against her for another second, then seems to remember something incredibly important because he springs upright. "Do you see my pajamas?"

"I noticed them immediately," Baran says solemnly, protecting his interests despite her clear exhaustion. "Very cool."

"Mom got them for me, they're Geometry Dash."

"I see that."

Trinity squints at her doubtfully and she can't help but insert herself into their mother-son moment. "Do you even know what that means?"

"Of course," Baran says, without tearing her gaze away from Sami. "I research all of the games he has access to."

Sami watches them with open interest, then makes a face. "Are you guys fighting?"

"No," they say simultaneously, Baran frowning in concern down at her son. "We're teasing," she adds when Trinity doesn't step in for an explanation.

"Like flirting?"

"How do you even know what that is?" Trinity asks. She has no concept of what is age-appropriate for a seven-year-old to know but certainly flirting isn't typically in their vernacular. Judging by Baran's expression of consternation, she would agree.

"Emmett says that Izzy flirts with him during English class," he tells them all of this as if it's obvious information.

"This is why there's a literacy crisis," Trinity muses, finding some amusement in the stunned expression on Baran's face as she listens to her son. Certainly, first graders should be more involved in their studies than in forming relationships. Although, she might not be the best judge of that considering she didn't realize she was a lesbian until middle school.

"I'd have to agree," Baran sighs, rubbing at her temple like this is accelerating the oncoming headache.

Trinity takes her cue. "Well, on that note, sounds like it's bedtime." She steps forward to settle Baran's purse on the hook where it belongs and also places a guiding hand on Sami's back.

Sami's shoulders slump and he whines, "But Mamana just got home." He looks to his mother as if expecting her to take her side, as if that has ever worked in the face of Baran's steadfast adherence to the rules.

"I know, joonam." Baran's hand returns to his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. Her voice softens in that way that makes Trinity feel like she is overhearing something she shouldn't be. "I wish I had gotten home sooner."

"It's okay," Sami says quickly, because he is a sweet kid and because he has learned, maybe too early, that his mother has an endless list of responsibilities. "Trinity was here."

Baran's eyes flick to Trinity. There is so much in that look that Trinity has no idea what to do with. A swirling miasma of love and gratitude but also an endless well of guilt, all-consuming, that Trinity clocks with a creeping sense of dread. Something about Sami saying Trinity was here should make Baran happy, and it does, but it hurts her too.

Trinity files it away, because it is late and Sami is drooping in his pajamas and Baran is still standing in contaminated scrubs. "Okay," she says, clapping her hands once. "Game plan. Sami brushes his teeth while I supervise. Maman showers. Then story and sleep, for all of us, ideally."

Sami looks affronted at the implication that he needs supervision. "I know how to brush my teeth." He bares his teeth at her as if to prove that he does in fact still have them all.

"I believe you, but some of us also know how to intubate and are still supervised while doing it, so I'm not sure that argument holds up in this household."

Sami considers this with a solemn weight of justice, weighing its validity in his opinion. "I don't know how to intubate," he admits and Trinity imagines someday soon in the future she's going to be asked to teach him how.

"Exactly. You lack transferable skills."

Baran looks between them, and for one second the exhaustion lifts enough for Trinity to see pure affection on her face. Then she sways again, accidentally knocking into Trinity's shoulder.

Trinity steps closer and puts a hand back at Baran's elbow, firm enough to guide but not enough to embarrass her. "Shower," she says, lower, hoping her tone leaves no room for argument.

Baran looks like she might argue for the sake of maintaining her reputation as the most stubborn person in Allegheny County, but Sami reaches out and pats her stomach. "You should listen to Trinity, Maman. You have germs on you."

That settles it, then. Baran nods, even though she looks just as reluctant to leave the responsibility of Sami's life on Trinity's shoulders as she had this morning. And it's not so much that she doesn't trust Trinity, but that she feels like she shouldn't have to. "Alright," she agrees, albeit reluctantly, "I'll be quick."

"Perfect," Trinity says, maintaining prolonged eye contact with Baran in an attempt to reassure her. What's another twenty minutes in the grand scheme of babysitting? "I'll get him started."

Baran holds her gaze, attention sharpening as she levels very earnestly at her, "Thank you, Trinity."

Trinity makes herself shrug instead of saying something sappy about how she would do anything to make her happy. "Go before I start charging by the minute." It's an empty threat considering Baran had physically tried to force a pile of cash into Trinity's hand last time she had babysat Sami for a couple of hours and Trinity had threatened to break up with Baran to get her to stop her attempts.

Baran huffs softly, then bends to kiss Sami's forehead one more time, taking in a deep breath as she does. "Brush well. I will inspect."

Sami salutes, a gesture he has picked up from Trinity over the months. Trinity finds it endlessly endearing every time he does it. Baran gives Trinity one last lingering look and then disappears down the hall towards the stairs.

Sami smiles and takes Trinity's hand without a moment's hesitation, then starts marching toward the stairs after his mother. "Come on! I'll show you how I brush my teeth good."

"Well, thank God." Trinity allows herself to be pulled along by the tiny hand gripping hers. "I've been waiting all day for this masterclass."

The upstairs hallway is dim, a nightlight glowing near the bathroom door in the shape of a little moon. Trinity has been in Baran's house often enough now that she knows where everything belongs and where to find exactly what she needs. Still, there are moments when being here without Baran beside her feels surreal, in a way that she is being handed access to the internal organs of someone else's life. That feeling is doubled when Baran is home but still trusts her enough with her son to leave them alone together.

Sami's bathroom is exactly as chaotic as his bedroom, which is to say there are dinosaur bath toys in the tub despite his insistence that baths are for babies, a step stool covered in stickers, and various things scattered across the countertop. Trinity hadn't thought to check to make sure he had cleaned up after getting ready this morning.

Sami squeezes toothpaste onto the brush with intense concentration and an alarming amount of toothpaste begins to appear on the bristles.

Trinity watches it pile up. "Are you brushing your teeth or frosting a cupcake?"

Sami looks between her and the toothbrush skeptically and stops squeezing the tube, thankfully. "Too much?"

Trinity snorts. "Enough that'll come out of the sides of your mouth."

Sami shrugs, seemingly nonplussed by the idea of that. He begins brushing with enough dramatic vigor that Trinity would consider he might be trying to sand his teeth down to nubs. As expected, foam appears almost immediately at the corners of his mouth. Trinity leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and supervises like she has any official standing here. She realizes, with a funny twist of emotion, that she has spent the whole day doing this—pretending confidence until it felt real enough to stand on. It is not that Trinity never thought about children. It is just that she thought about them as patients, as injuries waiting to happen. She likes kids, but she had never imagined being trusted with one for an entire day.

Two minutes later, Sami spits, rinses, and grins at her with a wet chin and minty breath. "See?"

Trinity squints theatrically, pretending to assess his plaque from multiple feet away. "Acceptable."

He smiles even wider, appeased, then walks closer and leans around her to peer down the hall towards Baran's bedroom. "Is Maman done?"

The shower is still running faintly, the pipes humming through the walls. It hasn't even been five minutes. "Not yet." Trinity ruffles his hair a little rougher than usual, just to earn an offended squawk from him. It sends pangs of nostalgia through her of how Trinity used to act with her younger brothers. She makes a valiant attempt to ignore the longing there. "Do you want to go pick your bedtime story?"

Sami nods enthusiastically and darts across the hallway and into his room. Trinity follows, and immediately winces at the mess as she steps through the doorway. There are blocks on the rug, stuffed animals fanned across the bed, and several poorly hidden piles of toys shoved under his bed. The walls are covered with a combination of space decals, framed art that Baran probably picked, and a crooked drawing of what appears to be a dragon breathing fire at a hospital.

Sami drops to his knees in front of the bookshelf and starts rummaging. "Do you think Maman will be too tired to read?"

The question is asked lightly, but Trinity hears the worry tucked inside it. She steps into the room and starts gathering blocks into a bin, partly because it needs doing and partly because it gives her hands something to do while she treads carefully through this conversation. "Your mom would read to you during the end of the world."

Sami considers this, fingers tracing the spines of his books. "Sometimes she falls asleep while reading," he admits quietly, like he's telling a secret that he keeps for Baran's sake.

Trinity's throat pinches at the immediate image it conjures, Baran slumped over and half-falling off the edge of Sami's twin-sized bed. "Yeah?"

"Not a lot," he says quickly, defending her even if Trinity hadn't voiced any disapproval. "Only when the hospital takes too long."

Sometimes, Trinity thinks the hospital takes too much from Baran more than anybody else. It takes Baran's evenings and her weekends and precious time with her son. It takes and takes and then sends her home with blood washed off her palms and the expectation of return. Trinity drops a handful of blocks into the bin with more force than strictly necessary.

Sami looks over, too attentive for his own good. "Are you mad?"

"No, bud." Trinity softens immediately, remembering herself. Now is not the time for her to be doing an internal rant about the way the healthcare system treats its workers. "At least, not at you."

"At the hospital?"

She should probably not teach Baran's son to anthropomorphize resentment toward a medical institution. On the other hand, he seems to have a strong grasp of the concept already. "A little," she admits. She's trying to emulate Baran's parenting choice of not telling mindless lies to Sami, even if sometimes Trinity thinks it would make things a lot easier.

He nods sagely. "Me too, sometimes. But Maman really helps people." He looks proud of her, even now, so late after she was already supposed to have tucked him into bed.

"She does." Trinity sits back on her heels and looks at him earnestly. "She helps a lot of people."

Sami looks back at her very seriously, in a way that makes him look painfully like Baran. "Has she helped you?"

It is not a question she expects, though maybe it should be. Children notice everything. Sami in particular has Baran's eyes, dark and searching, and the same terrible habit of actually wanting the truth. She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat and all of the times Baran has taken care of her after a hard case or harder shift. "She helps me all the time."

Sami nods again, satisfied, and turns around again to pull a book from the shelf, flipping it over to read the description on the back even as he says, "Then it's okay."

"What is?" Trinity asks gently, not really following the line of logic here. Children tend to jump between subjects at a rapid pace, although to Sami's credit, he manages to stay pretty focused on one thing at a time.

"That she's at the hospital all the time." He looks down at the book as he says it, picking at the corner of the cover that is already starting to peel off. "Because other people's Trinitys might need her too."

That is the first thing today that actually makes Trinity have to turn her face away for a second and pretend she is inspecting the very important structural integrity of his bed frame, blinking back unexpected tears. Get it together, Santos. She clears her throat. "That's very generous, bud."

The shower shuts off down the hall just in time, thank fucking god. Trinity really did not want to continue any further down this emotionally destructive path.

Sami hears it too because he pops up like he has been summoned by a dinner bell. "I picked the book," he announces, holding up the one he had just been trying to peel the cover off of.

"Great. Hop into bed." Trinity gets up and brushes herself off like that will stop the emotions from clawing their way up her throat.

He climbs in without protest and slides under the covers, book clutched to his chest. Trinity pulls the blanket up around him because it seems like something she should do, tucking it into his sides with more care than she means to show. Sami watches her the whole time.

"Mom tucks tighter," he advises. It had taken Trinity a long time to be able to differentiate which mom he's talking about when he says that but thankfully, he almost always calls Baran "Maman."

Trinity looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "Is that a complaint or a request?"

"Request, please."

She tucks the blanket tighter. He wiggles happily into the mattress. Trinity pats his knee, asking, "Better?"

"Yeah." He smiles widely, blinking his long eyelashes at her innocently. "You're really good at it."

The compliment lands somewhere strange inside her—what a silly thing for her to be so proud of. Trinity finishes adjusting the blanket for a moment, gathering herself, then pokes his forehead lightly. "Don't sound so surprised."

Before he can answer or try to grab the finger she just poked him with, Baran appears in the doorway. She has changed into soft sleep-pants and an old sweatshirt, her hair curling wildly around her face, skin clean and flushed from the shower. She pauses there, taking in the room—Sami tucked into bed, Trinity sitting beside him, the toys mostly cleared into bins, and the book waiting in his lap just for her. Her eyes shine and she blinks rapidly a couple of times.

Trinity, alarmed by the sight, immediately tries to deflect and get them moving with the last part of the bedtime ritual, "There were no casualties with teeth brushing tonight."

Baran blinks once more, eyes closed for a half-second longer than necessary, then smiles. "That is a relief." She comes into the room, and Sami immediately scoots over like there is always room for her on the edge of the bed. Baran sits with a little wince she tries to hide. Trinity sees it anyway and makes a mental note to get her ibuprofen and water after this, and maybe a slice of leftover pizza if Baran can stomach anything this late at night.

Baran holds out a hand for the book. "What are we reading tonight?"

Sami gives it to her and wiggles deeper under the covers before lying his head against her hip. "The dragon one," he says and Trinity has no idea which one that's supposed to be but Baran just nods sagely. She probably has every book in his room memorized at this point.

"Excellent choice."

Trinity starts to rise, sensing that the need for her here is gone. "I'll go clean up downstairs." She might as well take one more chore off of Baran's plate as she does this.

Sami's hand shoots out and catches her sleeve before she can get anywhere, "Stay." He says it with enough authority that Trinity freezes immediately, feet glued to the plush carpet next to his bed.

Baran looks up at her, uncertainty moving across her face, waiting for a reaction that would indicate Trinity is uncomfortable. Trinity smiles reassuringly although she's not very sure of her place here.

Sami, unaware of the entire emotional minefield he has just wandered into, tugs again. "You can sit there." He points to the beanbag chair near the bookshelf. "It's comfy, I promise."

The beanbag chair is bright blue and very small. Trinity is almost certain that if she sits in it, she will require extrication via emergency services. "Tempting," she says, instead of explaining that she stopped fitting into children's furniture about a decade ago.

Baran's gaze stays on her, carefully flitting over every part of her expression. "You don't have to clean right now," she says, words carefully chosen.

Trinity knows this. She also knows that if she stays for story time, she will be participating in something usually solely dedicated to Sami's parents. But Baran is staring at her with poorly hidden hope behind her eyes and Sami is still pointing at the beanbag chair emphatically, clearly unimpressed that she's stalling the start of story time.

She sits in the beanbag and it swallows her immediately. Sami laughs so hard he falls completely backwards onto his pillow. Baran bites her lip, clearly trying not to join him, which is a betrayal of the highest order.

"I hate both of you," Trinity says from somewhere near floor level, her head resting firmly back against the wall.

"Liar," Sami says, still giggling happily against his mother. That sound alone is worth the humiliation, any day.

"She certainly is," Baran agrees softly, eyes warm as she continues to stare at her.

Trinity gives her a look that is meant to be threatening but probably comes out profoundly besotted. Baran smiles down at the book and opens it.

Her reading voice is low and melodic, the vowels softened by her exhaustion, but each sentence is still given its proper weight. She does voices, which Trinity did not expect the first time she witnessed bedtime. She lowers her pitch for the dragon and makes the king sound faintly pompous and gives the princess a dry, unimpressed tone that sounds suspiciously like her impression of Trinity. Sami watches her like she hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. Trinity watches both of them and feels something all of the tension in her body slowly unspool. She has never been particularly comfortable around other people's happiness. But this is different—or, maybe, Trinity is different now. Maybe Baran has spent enough months loving her with those careful, warm hands of hers that some of the sharper edges of Trinity's instincts have finally started to dull.

By the end of the book, Sami's eyelids are drooping hard. Baran's voice has slowed too, sleepiness threading through it as she yawns at each page tune. Trinity watches her blink a little too long between sentences. She looks like she might fall asleep sitting up, book in hand, still stubbornly determined to finish every promised word. When she closes the book, Sami makes a small protesting sound but doesn't actually say much else.

"Only one tonight," Baran says, gently. She leans down and kisses his forehead in an all-too-familiar motion.

Sami's mouth pulls down. For a moment Trinity thinks he might push, but then he looks at his mother's face and seems to decide against it. "Okay," he says quietly, snuggling down against the pillow.

Baran's expression wavers. Trinity sees guilt land, immediate and heavy. She watches Baran take her child's small mercy and turn it into evidence against herself. Of course she does. Trinity wants to reach across the room and physically pluck the thought out of Baran's head before it can grow teeth.

Sami buries himself deeper under the covers, unaware of the emotional turmoil in the room, so oblivious to any of the more adult concerns in the room. "Maman?"

"Yes, joonam?"

"Is Trinity sleeping over?"

Baran's eyes flick toward Trinity. Trinity suddenly becomes very interested in the carpet fibers near her sock. "Yes, she is," she says carefully, clearly unsure of where this is going. She knows he knows that if Trinity is here this late, she's spending the night.

The relief on Sami's face is immediate. "Good."

Baran smooths his hair back, glancing every couple of seconds to examine the look on Trinity's face, as if it will change from pure, unadulterated admiration. "Good?"

"Yeah." Sami yawns so hard his whole face scrunches up.  "Maman?" He repeats.

"Yes, my dear?" Baran says, ever patient.

His voice is softer this time, nearly lost in the room's dimness. "Is Trinity going to stay forever?"

The question stops everything. Trinity's lungs simply forget what the process of breathing even means. Baran pauses in the bed, silence stretching around the room. Her hand remains in Sami's hair. The bedside lamp casts a soft halo over her profile, catching on the honeyed curls near her cheek and reflecting light off the shine in her eyes. Trinity cannot look away.

Sami's eyes are half-closed. It is possible he is too sleepy to understand the magnitude of what he has asked. It is possible that to him, forever simply means tomorrow morning and next pizza night and someone who knows where his extra socks are. But Trinity understands and Baran understands. The question lands between them with all the weight a child's hope can carry.

Baran swallows. "That is something Trinity gets to decide," she says at last, voice achingly careful.

Sami frowns a little, still halfway asleep. "But you want her to?"

Baran looks at Trinity then. There is no hiding it, no joke Trinity can make that will dodge the rawness in Baran's face. She looks exhausted and frightened and so raw it hurts. She looks like a woman being asked to say the thing she wants most while terrified that the wanting itself will be too much. "Yes," she says, barely above a whisper. "I want her to."

Trinity's throat tightens so sharply she has to press her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep anything mortifying from happening. She's not about to cry while drowning in a child's beanbag. That would simply be too humiliating to ever come back from.

Sami, apparently satisfied, smiles faintly. "Me too."

Then he turns his face into the pillow, still holding Baran's hand, and falls asleep like he has not just thrown a grenade directly into the center of Trinity's entire life.

For a minute, neither of them blinks in fear it will offset the peace around them. The room settles quietly except for the low hum of the air conditioner and Sami's soft breathing. Baran's eyes remain on her son, but Trinity can see the muscle jumping in her jaw. She can see the fight happening beneath her skin as she processes the implications of their conversation.

Trinity slowly begins the humiliating process of extracting herself from the beanbag chair. It is not graceful. Her knee pops. She has to roll sideways and brace one hand on the floor, and under different circumstances, Sami would absolutely mock her. Baran does not laugh. Once upright, Trinity crosses the room quietly and stops beside Baran. She puts one hand lightly on her shoulder. Baran inhales. "Come on," she whispers. "Let him sleep."

Baran nods, but it takes her another few seconds for her to let go of Sami's hand. When she does, she tucks it beneath the blanket with reverent care. Then she bends and kisses his forehead one more time, lingering there. "Khab-e khosh, azizam," she murmurs.

Trinity turns off the bedside lamp. The moon nightlight that's also been plugged into this room, evidently a pack that Baran bought together, glows softly against the wall, silver-blue over the dragons and spaceships and half-cleaned chaos of his room. Baran pauses at the doorway, looking back. Trinity does not rush her.

Eventually, Baran steps out into the hall. They move quietly downstairs together at Trinity's insistence because she still wants to get Baran something to eat and to clean the living room enough that Baran does not wake up tomorrow and immediately have extra chores to do. But the moment they reach the living room, Baran stops, seeing the space for the first time all day after having gone directly upstairs when she had first gotten home.

She sees the fort in the corner, the half-cleaned mess of it all. The coffee table still has one abandoned Lego spaceship on it, one wing missing. There was a drawing Sami had made earlier of Trinity climbing the playset at the park. In the drawing, Trinity's hair is an alarming scribble of black, her arms are too long, and she appears to be levitating rather than climbing. Baran meanders over and picks it up from where it sits near the console table.

"He drew that for you," Trinity says, suddenly nervous for no reason. The undeniable proof that Baran's son is emotionally attached to her. "I believe that's me. Or possibly a monster he sees in his nightmares."

Baran stares down at it.

Trinity continues, because suddenly she can't keep her mouth shut. "He said I had to hang it up, but then he got distracted by the pizza arriving, and I wasn't sure if fridge real estate was a regulated area in this house."

Baran's fingers tighten on the paper and it crinkles in her grasp. She continues staring, mouth opening ever so slightly and then closing again like the words are forming and dying on her lips in the matter of seconds.

"Babe?" Trinity asks after a long beat, voice more timid than she would like it to be given the circumstances. Sue her if it already feels like her heart has been torn out of her body and stomped on.

Baran blinks and looks up. Her smile appears a second too late and does not reach her eyes in the way it usually doesn't. "It's perfect."

Okay. Noted. Trinity moves closer, nudging at her hip and towards the direction of the couch. "Sit, you've been on your feet all day."

Baran lets herself be guided. She sits on the edge of the couch like she does not intend to stay there long, knees together, hands folded too tightly in her lap with Sami's drawing still held between her fingers.

Trinity goes to the kitchen and assesses the damage while she takes a couple of deep breaths. It could be worse. It could be better. The dishwasher is, as previously established, a heaping mess courtesy of Sami, but the counters are clean enough. There is leftover pizza, a bowl of cut strawberries that Trinity had prepared in a fit of misplaced optimism about what she could make for dinner, and half of a cucumber sliced into sticks all in the fridge in preparation for any snack needs that can arise in the next twenty-four hours.

She heats two slices of pizza because Baran is not getting through a whole meal right now, fills a glass of water, and digs ibuprofen out of the cabinet where Baran keeps the medication supply organized by category and out of reach of child height.

When Trinity returns, Baran has not moved. She is still staring down at the drawing. "Gourmet dinner," she announces as she carries it in.

Baran looks up, startled, as if the sound of the microwave had fallen on deaf ears. "Baby, you really didn't—"

Trinity cuts her off with a raised eyebrow and a skeptical, "You ate what today? And, careful, I know when you're lying."

Baran opens her mouth to argue, notes the unamused expression on Trinity's face, and promptly closes it.

"Exactly." She sets the plate and water on the coffee table, then holds out the ibuprofen to be able to drop into her palm. "Take these."

Baran takes the pills, mostly because she is too tired to fight properly. She swallows them with half the water, then obediently picks up a slice of pizza. Trinity sits beside her, not too close at first. There are times Baran wants contact immediately, desperate for the reminder that they are both real and human and together. And then there are times she needs to pretend for a minute that nobody needs anything from her. Tonight, Trinity cannot tell which one this is.

Baran takes one bite, chews, swallows with visible effort, then stares at the rest of the plate like somehow two slices of pizza are enough to be overwhelming right now. Trinity takes the other slice and begins to eat it, mostly to model behavior and relieve some of the pressure of being watched. "Sami is sweet," she says lightly, because subtlety has never been her gift. She'd rather just attack the problem head-on, even if that usually ends her up in more hot water than she had started in.

The silence that follows is enough of an answer to what road Baran is planning on taking tonight. Avoidance it is, then. Baran sets the pizza down and looks sideways at her, lip once again pulled between her teeth. When she releases it, she murmurs, "I'm sorry."

Trinity sighs through her nose and leans back against the couch. "For what exactly?"

Baran's eyes close for one second. When they open, there is a wet reflection in them that makes every internal system in Trinity go on alert. Baran shakes her head once, as if refusing her own feelings entry. "It has been a long day."

Trinity reaches over slowly, giving Baran time to pull away. She does not. Trinity takes the drawing from her lap before it can get pizza sauce on it, sets it carefully on the coffee table, and then covers Baran's clenched fingers with her own. Baran stares down at their hands as if the sensation of touch is occurring outside of her own body.

"Talk to me," Trinity says quietly, trying not to be too overbearing. It's not often she's on this end of things. Baran is usually so carefully composed that it's hard to ever know when she actually needs support.

Baran lets out a shaky breath, a stutter of an inhale within her exhale as she tries to steady herself. "I don't even know where to start."

That scares Trinity more than if she had started crying outright. Baran always has an answer, eloquent even when she is furious, precise even when she is vulnerable.

Trinity shifts closer, knee knocking gently into hers. "Start however you want."

For a moment, Baran says nothing. Her thumb moves against Trinity's hand, not quite holding on, not quite letting go. Then she whispers, "He asked if you were going to stay forever."

"I was there." Trinity can't help the instinct to lighten the mood, even if she knows it's not going to be effective in the way she wants it to be. Old habits die hard.

"I can't help but think that I have no right to want that." Baran looks away, toward the window where the night presses dark against the glass. It takes everything in Trinity not to interrupt. "I have no right to let him want that either. He's seven. He loves so quickly. He has already had enough change for a child his age, and I—" She cuts herself off with a sharp inhale. "I should be more careful."

Trinity studies her face, willing her heart to stop its racing in her chest. "Do you think I'm not being careful with him?"

"No." Baran turns to her immediately, eyes widening. "That's not what I meant."

"Explain it to me?" She hates to ask but she needs to understand. There is no room for misunderstandings here if she really wants to get Baran through this.

"You are wonderful with him," Baran says it with such force that Trinity almost recoils from the honesty of it. "You were wonderful with him all day. He was happy when I came home. He was fed and safe and smiling, and he asked you to stay for story time like it was nothing." Her voice trembles. "He's never done that with anyone else before."

Baran presses her lips together hard. A tear spills anyway, sliding down her cheek before she can stop it. Trinity's heart drops. Baran seems startled by it, like her own body has betrayed her. She lifts a hand quickly to wipe it away, but Trinity catches her wrist before she can do so too roughly.

"Hey," Trinity murmurs, wiping it away softly herself. "Don't."

"I'm sorry." Baran laughs self-deprecatingly at herself, and then another tear falls. She looks humiliated by it, which makes Trinity want to wrap her up in her arms and squeeze the insecurity out of her.

Baran pulls her hand free only to cover her face. Trinity is on her before she can think better of it, one knee tucked under herself on the couch, arms wrapping around Baran's shoulders. Baran resists for maybe half a second. Then she folds and her forehead drops to Trinity's shoulder. Her hands clutch at Trinity's shirt, and the first real sob comes out of her so quietly it is almost silent, all breath and no voice. Trinity reacts before her brain catches up, one hand sliding into Baran's hair and the other flattening across her back.

"Oh, baby," Trinity whispers, stunned and aching. It's been a long fucking day. "Come here. I've got you."

Trinity pulls her closer, shifting until Baran is tucked against her side, face hidden in the crook of her neck. She can feel every trembling inhale and the damp heat of Baran's tears against her skin. Baran smells like soap now, clean and warm, but underneath that Trinity can still detect the long day on her like a permanent scent of exhaustion.

For a while, Trinity says nothing. It goes against every instinct she has to fix, to shove her bare hands into the wound and stop the bleeding by force. But Baran spends her whole life being managed and needed in push and pulls. Trinity can will herself to let her cry without turning it into a problem to solve. She can be quiet. For Baran, she can learn.

Eventually, Baran's breathing begins to stutter back toward control. She does not lift her head.

Trinity keeps stroking her hair. "Talk to me?"

Baran's voice is muffled against her neck. "I feel awful. I was supposed to be home hours ago."

"You got stuck at work."

"I left you with him all day on your only day off."

Trinity starts to answer, but Baran keeps going, the words spilling faster now like the seal has finally broken.

"You worked six days straight. You needed rest. And instead I asked you to wake up early and take care of my son because my life is complicated and my backup plan fell through and I couldn't fix it myself." Her grip tightens in Trinity's shirt, like even as she believes she doesn't deserve her kindness, she still wants to hold onto it with all the strength she has. "And you said yes because you always say yes to me."

"Not always," Trinity objects, a little offended at the implication that she can't stand up for herself if she really wants to. "I say no plenty when you're being a hardass at work."

Baran lifts her head just enough to look at her. Her eyes are red. Her face is blotchy. She looks miserable and beautiful and furious with herself. "Trinity."

"Okay." Trinity sobers. "Sorry, continue spiraling."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. I just hate this for you."

Baran's expression crumples again, and Trinity immediately regrets every word that has ever come out of her mouth. "I hate that he waits for me," she whispers. "I hate that he knows I might be late. He should not have to reassure me that it's okay because you were here, like that makes it all better." Her eyes squeeze shut. "You made it better because I wasn't here like I should've been."

Trinity's chest hurts. Very carefully, she counters, "Isn't it good that he has more than one person who loves him?"

Baran shakes her head. "You shouldn't have to."

Trinity actually has to pause because the sentence is so absurd and so revealing that for a second she cannot decide whether she wants to laugh or shake Baran by the shoulders until all her terrible thoughts fall out of her ears. "Do you think I am doing charity work in your house?"

Baran looks down and doesn't even attempt a response.

"Oh my God." Trinity leans back enough to get a good look at her. "You do."

"I don't—"

"You do. You think I'm clocking in like, wow, another unpaid shift with the child Al-Hashimi, guess I better endure it because his mom is hot."

Baran's mouth twitches despite the tears. "I do not think that."

"You kind of do."

"I think you are twenty-nine years old."

Trinity blinks, suddenly thrown for a loop. "That was a hard left turn."

"And I am forty-one." Baran gives her a look like she should do the math and make her own conclusions like any reasonable adult.

Trinity sighs. "You want to talk about this right now?" She knows that Baran has certainly got some push back about it in her personal life, some mostly reasonable questioning from her family and ex-wife. Baran had borne most of it with polite smiles and answers and Trinity had done her best to earn their respect in any way she could. It sucked, sometimes, but Trinity is very familiar with disapproval. She hasn't talked to her own mom in the last five years, for God's sake. It was harder for Baran, to accept some of the harsher questions that she'd never had to endure before. Trinity tried to sympathize the best she could while grappling with the fact that her parents would likely never meet Baran, let alone have the chance to disapprove of their age gap.

Baran pulls back, scrubbing a hand over her cheek. "I shouldn't have started this tonight."

Trinity reaches out and cups Baran's jaw, guiding her face back. "Hey, it's okay."

"I'm older than you," Baran says, like Trinity has not been very aware of this the entire time. Like the wrinkles at the corners of Baran's eyes are not one of Trinity's favorite things in the universe. "I worry that I have brought you into something too heavy."

Trinity pauses, considering her words. Baran takes that as permission to continue, or maybe as proof of her own fears. Her words come carefully now, each one scraped from the center of her chest and pulled one by one out of her throat. "You could be with someone your age. Someone who doesn't have a seven-year-old asking whether you are going to always be here before you have even had the chance to decide what kind of future you want."

Trinity's hand falls from Baran's face to her shoulder, feeling the bony protuberance of her acromion process. "You think I haven't decided?"

Baran freezes. Trinity feels her own pulse kick. This is something she would usually swallow down and bury under sarcasm until it disappeared within her. But Baran is staring at her as if she might break, and Trinity cannot be careless with her. "I am here all the time. I have a toothbrush in your bathroom and backup scrubs in your laundry room and your kid's preferred pizza place saved in my phone. I am well aware of what this is." Trinity leans closer, pressing a kiss to Baran's forehead in the same way she always does to Sami. "It's not simple. But simple has never really been my thing."

"You say that now."

"I say that after spending thirteen straight hours with Sami."

Baran's face twists again, guilt surging back in. "Exactly."

Trinity takes Baran's hands and holds them between both of hers, feeling the nervous sweat gathering in her palms. "He is not a burden."

"I know that."

"I know you know it up here." She uses one hand to tap lightly near Baran's temple while still using the other to hold her hands together. "But I don't think you believe it when it comes to what he means to me."

Baran's eyes fill again, although she hadn't really stopped crying much up to this point.

"Sami is not something I tolerate because I love you," Trinity says, careful and clear. "He's part of why I love you. I have seen you with him. He loves you more than anything."

Baran looks down, lower lip trembling despite herself. "I miss so much."

"Maybe." Trinity hates saying it, hates the way Baran's face crumples at the validation. But she will not lie to her. "Yeah, maybe sometimes you miss too many things in a day. The job takes too much. That's real."

A tear slips down Baran's cheek again. She nods once, like a verdict has been delivered.

Trinity shifts closer, knees touching. "But you come back, every time. You come home exhausted and still read him a story. You make him feel like the center of the world even when you have nothing left. That matters."

Baran breaks then. She is rarely loud with her own pain but it is more devastating than that, a silent collapse inward as her face crumples and she leans forward until Trinity catches her again. This time, Trinity pulls her all the way into her lap as much as the couch allows, awkward angles be damned. Baran goes willingly, curling into her with desperation and exhaustion.

Trinity holds her. She thinks of Sami upstairs, sleeping under his neon-colored comforter with absolute faith that his mother is home now and the world has returned to order. She thinks of Baran standing in the mudroom, so tired she could barely hold herself upright, and still smiling when she saw them. Forever is a dangerous word. Trinity knows that. It asks for promises no one can guarantee. But she also knows what she wants tomorrow. She wants to wake up in Baran's bed with her hair in her face and Sami already running laps around the house. She wants Baran's tired kisses and her stern looks and her hand warm on her back. And maybe forever can just be wanting tomorrow over and over again.

"Listen to me," Trinity says as sternly as she can muster into the crown of Baran's hair. "You are allowed to need things from me."

"I suppose," Baran says, clearly a little put out that something she says so often to Trinity is being turned back on her.

"You are," Trinity insists, tightening her grip around her body. "You can need help with Sami. You can need me to pick up groceries or sit with you after work or take some chores off your plate. And I'm allowed to say no. You have to trust me to say no if I need to."

Baran sniffles. Trinity lifts their joined hands and kisses her knuckles. She is not usually good at this kind of gentleness in words, but she can borrow some from Baran. She can try.

"I love you," she says. "I love your life, not because it's easy, but because it's yours and I choose to be in it with you every day."

"And I love Sami," Trinity adds, quieter, still talking because she needs Baran to know how genuinely she means these things. "He's funny and weird and too smart for his own good. And I know loving him is a big deal. I'm not treating it casually."

Baran's voice breaks. "He loves you too."

"I know."

"What if you don't stay forever?"

The question comes out stripped of everything but terror. Trinity's chest aches. She cannot promise a forever that fits neatly in Sami's sleepy understanding of the word. But she can tell the truth. "I'm not planning on leaving. I want to be here. And if someday something changes—which I am not saying because I expect it to, I am saying it because I'm not going to bullshit you—we handle that like adults who love him. But I am not halfway out the door. I don't want easier. I want you."

Trinity thinks of waffles and the park and Sami's small hand slipping into hers on the sidewalk without warning, like he trusted her not to let go. She thinks of him insisting that Trinity needed sunscreen and then getting it in his own hair. She thinks of him explaining Minecraft with the seriousness of an attending walking through a procedure, so painfully his mother.

Baran looks at her for a long moment. Her eyes are still red, but the tension in her face has relaxed. "I don't want to steal your youth," she whispers.

Trinity stares at her. Then, despite the tears and the tenderness and the late hour, she starts laughing.

Baran's face goes blank with offense. "That is not the response I expected."

"I'm sorry," Trinity says, even though she doesn't sound particularly sorry at all. "Babe, my youth was competitive gymnastics and medical school. Please steal my youth, it sucked ass."

Baran tries to glare, but her mouth trembles toward a smile.

Trinity cups her cheeks and leans in. "I know the age difference scares you sometimes. I know you worry I'll wake up one day and decide I missed out on some version of life I was supposed to have."

"Will you?"

"No." Trinity does not hesitate, she believes it with every atom in her body. "This is my life. You both are my life."

Baran's eyes fill again, because apparently Trinity has discovered every loaded phrase in existence tonight and is determined to use them all.

Trinity kisses her before she can apologize for crying. It is a soft kiss, saltwater and warmth, Baran's mouth trembling beneath hers. Trinity keeps it gentle, one hand at Baran's jaw, the other resting at her waist, nothing that asks for more than Baran can give.

When they part, Baran rests her forehead against Trinity's. "I love you," she whispers, voice cracking over the words.

Trinity grins. "I love you too."

They stay there for a few breaths, foreheads together, the house quiet around them. Trinity can feel Baran's exhaustion settling in now that the sharpest edge of the emotion has passed. Her body is heavy against Trinity's, her fingers loose in the fabric of Trinity's shirt.

"You need to sleep," Trinity says, not used to being the more reasonable one in this relationship.

Baran sighs, eyes sweeping the area rug currently still half-covered in toys. "I need to clean."

"No can do."

"The living room—"

"Will still be a mess to clean up tomorrow."

Baran laughs softly, then yawns so hard she has to cover her mouth. Trinity immediately shifts into motion, nudging her upright.

"To bed," she says. "Come on."

This time, Baran does not fight. It is maybe the clearest sign of how exhausted she is. Trinity gets her to stand, collects the plate with the half-eaten slice, and gives Baran one more pointed look until she obediently takes two additional bites like a disgruntled patient. Trinity counts it as a win. She puts the remaining pizza in the fridge, fills another glass of water, and guides Baran upstairs with a hand at the small of her back.

At the top of the stairs, Baran pauses outside Sami's room again. The door is cracked open. Inside, Sami sleeps sprawled diagonally across the bed, one arm flung over the edge of the mattress, mouth slightly open. The nightlight catches the soft curve of his cheek. He looks impossibly young g and vulnerable.

Baran leans against the doorframe. Trinity comes up beside her, close enough that their shoulders touch.

"He knows you love him," Trinity reassures, practically seeing the thoughts form in Baran's head the longer she stands there. "As someone who grew up without that, I can tell you that means everything."

Baran's hand finds Trinity's in the dark hallway. Their fingers lace together. "Thank you," she whispers.

Trinity squeezes her hand. "Anytime." She means it. Anytime for as long as forever lasts for them.

They make it to Baran's bedroom after that. The room is softly lit by the lamp on the dresser, the bed still half-made from this morning when Trinity had been summoned into consciousness by Sami's solemn breakfast request. Trinity moves around the room with a strange sense of familiarity even though she does not truly live here. She sets the water on Baran's nightstand and then pulls back the blankets while Baran stands near the foot of the bed, looking vaguely lost.

Trinity steps closer, hands coming up to her waist. "Feeling any better?"

"I don't know how to stop feeling guilty."

Trinity reaches for the hem of Baran's shirt and tugs her gently closer until their bodies are pressed firmly against each other. "You don't have to stop tonight. Just don't let it make decisions for you."

Baran's eyes search her face, a crooked grin finding its way onto her face despite everything else as she teases, "When did you get so wise?"

"Perks of dating a real adult."

Baran laughs, startled and real, and Trinity feels any of the uncertainty within herself settle. Baran wraps both arms around Trinity's shoulders and holds on, cheek resting against her chest. Trinity presses her lips to Baran's temple, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin.

"I really did have a good day with him," Trinity says again, because she thinks Baran might need to hear it as many times as Trinity herself needs to hear reassurances before they start feeling real.

Baran nods against her. "He adores you."

"I adore him too."

Baran's arms tighten around her as they sway softly from side to side. "Yesterday he asked if you could come to his swim lesson next week."

Trinity's eyes open to peer down at her, searching her face. She hadn't heard about this yet. "He did?"

"Mhm."

"And you're just telling me now?"

"I was busy crying."

"Fair." Trinity considers this, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her entire body and down to the ends of her toes. "I can come. If my schedule doesn't suck."

Baran pulls back to look at her fully. "You don't have to."

"I know," Trinity repeats, knowing this is going to take a couple of cycles to truly get through her stubbornness. "I want to. I also reserve the right to sleep instead if I get fucked up on shift."

"I can live with that." Baran touches Trinity's face, her thumb tracing the edge of her cheekbone. "Thank you for the honesty."

Trinity shrugs, suddenly embarrassed. They both need to work on setting more boundaries around their free time and they know it. "Growth mindset."

Baran smiles, her teeth poking through the gap in her lips. "I'm proud of you."

Trinity has to look away, trying to play off the blush on her face by extricating herself from Baran's arms and slowly starting to push her towards the mattress. "Bed, before this gets worse and we're awake until midnight."

Baran lets herself be guided under the blankets. Trinity turns off the dresser lamp, leaving only the faint spill of hallway light until she goes to close the door most of the way. Then she climbs in beside Baran, and the relief of it is almost embarrassing. Her body has been in motion since six-thirty in the morning, and the mattress feels like a religious experience.

Baran turns toward her immediately. Trinity opens one arm. "Come here, mahal."

Baran curls into her, head on Trinity's chest, one leg sliding between Trinity's. Trinity wraps around her and feels Baran melt by degrees. Her breathing slows as one hand finds the hem of Trinity's shirt and slips underneath, palm warm against bare skin, grounding herself in the feeling of her ribs under her skin.

Baran cranes her head up enough just to kiss her, slow this time, unhurried. Trinity lets one hand settle at the back of her neck, keeping her close. Baran's mouth is soft on hers, her body warm and heavy with exhaustion. When she pulls back, she stays hovering close. "I want you here," she whispers into the dark, like they're trading secrets at a sleepover.

Trinity brushes a curl away from her face. "I am here."

Baran's eyes search hers in the dark, squinting to get a good look at her. "Does that scare you?"

"Yes," Trinity says honestly as she tightens her grip on Baran's neck. "If I fuck up, it hurts people I love. That's supposed to be a little scary."

Baran's eyes shine again, but she does not cry this time. Instead, she smiles and kisses her again, quick and fond. Then she settles back down with her head on Trinity's chest, the conversation finally draining out of her. Trinity feels it happen—the moment Baran's body decides it has done all it can do today. Her limbs grow heavy and suddenly her weight is being completely leaned against her.

Trinity starts playing with the ends of her hair, taking care not to make the frizz from the day any worse. She looks toward the half-open door, where there is a child sleeping down the hall who asked the question so easily because children still believe adults know how to answer impossible things.

Tomorrow is not forever. It is smaller, safer, something they can hold in both hands without dropping. Tomorrow is Baran's alarm going off too early and Trinity complaining into her pillow. Right now, Trinity presses her lips to Baran's forehead, a mirror to the way she always does to Sami, and holds her while she falls asleep. The house was finally quiet around them, every scattered toy downstairs and every unanswered fear waiting until morning. And tomorrow is enough for now.