Chapter Text
Pope knocked and was looking through the bag, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, when the door opened. He raised his eyes and a wave of heat rushed over him.
Samira was in a bathrobe and smiling as if she wasn’t about to give him a heart attack.
“Hi,” she said brightly, “thanks so much for bringing back my charger. Sorry I left it in your car.”
She stepped aside and it took far too long for his brain to convince his feet to step into her apartment. She closed the door behind him and smiled again. Pope just stared at her and wondered how red his ears were and if it was spreading down to his neck. She raised an eyebrow and his heart leapt to his throat.
“Um, yeah, your charger,” he stammered. He lifted the plastic bag and all but shoved it at her. “You needed lightbulbs, too. And dish detergent.”
Confused, she took the bag and peered in.
“Andrew, you didn’t need to buy all this for me,” she said.
“I wanted to. You needed it.”
She reached in and pulled out a plastic container, looking at him curiously.
“Pepper spray,” he said. “It’s a good brand. I tested one myself.”
Her eyes widened.
“What!” she exclaimed.
“It comes with instructions but I’ll show you how to use it,” he continued, taking the container from her. “You should always carry it with you.”
She continued to stare at him until finally, he raised his own eyes and met hers. He felt his jaw tighten. He had made a mistake. Suddenly she laughed once.
“Thank you,” she said gently. “You’re right, I should have one. And thank you for everything else. I don’t get to the store very often.”
“I know, that’s why I wanted to buy them for you.”
“I’ll pay you back,” she said, placing the bag on the counter.
Pope shook his head and was about to argue his case when she suddenly went, “Oh, God, what time is it?”
He looked at his watch.
“6:37,” he said.
“I have to get ready,” she said, rushing past him. “You can stay if you want, help yourself to anything in the fridge. Make yourself at home.”
She disappeared into the bathroom but left the door ajar. Pope just remained where he stood, a strange roaring in his ears.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you earlier when you texted,” she called from the bathroom. “Some of us from work are going out tonight and for once, I actually said yes.”
“Oh.”
“I had to, it’s a celebration for Maggie, she’s one of our nurses. Her ex has put her through hell this past year and her divorce was finalized yesterday,” she continued. “She’s so sweet, she deserves a girls night out.”
“Girls night?”
“Yeah.” She was spraying something in her hair as she peeked out the door. “Andrew, you can sit down. Put the TV on if you want.”
He swallowed and turned towards the kitchen table, sitting in the chair closest to the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Downtown, I think that new riverfront place that just opened. Then the gay bar on Fifth. There’s a drag show later.”
“Oh.” He looked down at his hands and frowned as he saw that he was tapping his fingers repeatedly onto his legs. He curled them into fists. “How many of you?’
She counted off names and landed at six.
“I’ll drive you,” he said suddenly.
“I was gonna uber.”
“No, I’ll drive you.”
Samira stepped out of the bathroom, a make-up brush in her hand. She looked as if she wanted to argue but hesitated.
“How about this,” she offered, “I uber there, and you can pick me up later? Be my DD.”
Pope considered this and then nodded.
“Fine,” he acquiesced. “I’ll open up the pepper spray.”
She laughed and went back into the bathroom. Pope busied himself with unpacking the pepper spray, opened the windows, and tested it in her sink. It sprayed nicely. Then he carefully washed the sink, followed by her entire counter.
He heard Samira leave the bathroom and walk into her bedroom. She was probably getting dressed. His ears were hot again but he ignored it as best he could. Think about how you need to get the tires rotated on your car. Think about going to the gym tomorrow morning. Think about what Dr. Esposito said during your last therapy session. Think about your coping skills. Think about anything but Samira taking off her bathrobe and putting on…whatever a woman wears for girls night.
Fuck.
“Does this look okay?”
He turned and nearly swallowed his tongue.
She was wearing a black dress. It was plain but form-fitting and cut just above her knees. And she was too busy frowning down at herself to notice that he was just staring.
“Uh,” he managed, hoping the squeak in his voice wasn’t too noticeable, “yeah, you look great.”
“God, I missed a bunch of spots shaving,” she mumbled to herself before shrugging. “Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at me.”
Pope bit his tongue to avoid correcting her. She walked over to him and grabbed her purse off the counter. Up close, he could see that her make-up made her eyes look even brighter and her lips look…soft.
“You smell nice,” he muttered before he could stop himself.
She smiled.
“Thanks, I was worried it was too overpowering. I rarely wear perfume because of allergies.”
“No, it’s perfect.”
She looked up at him and for a moment, Pope felt so lightheaded he worried he was going to faint. Well, at least he’d do it in front of a doctor.
“I better order the uber,” she murmured. “Got my pepper spray?”
He blinked.
“Yeah,” he said and handed it to her, pleased to watch her attach it to her keys. “Also, I want to drive you.”
“You are, later.”
“No, now, both ways.”
“Andrew, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.”
“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
He blinked again.
“I’m offering it,” he reminded her.
“I know but-”
“I want to, Samira. Please.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“Okay,” she sighed. “But I owe you.”
He shook his head.
“Shut up, I do,” she smiled. “Ready?”
“Yeah, of course.”
And he followed her out of the apartment.
The TV was on but he wasn’t watching. He was waiting.
When he had dropped Samira off, she had spotted a couple of her coworkers waiting outside the restaurant and that had pleased him. Her parting smile as she left his car also made him feel good.
So he didn’t mind sitting in his bare apartment and waiting for her to text him. She promised she would and he knew she would never lie to him. Or anyone. His eyes flicked from the TV screen to his watch and back again. Repeatedly. His fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on his leg with each passing hour.
He wondered if she was safe. He wondered if she was having fun. Was anyone bothering her? Would she ever go out somewhere nice with him? Hell, he’d go to the gay bar with her if she asked. He’d go wherever she wanted. Eh, she probably wouldn’t have fun with him.
His phone rang.
He jumped, saw Samira’s name flashing on the screen, and grabbed it.
“Samira,” he gasped.
“Uh, is this Andrew?” an unfamiliar voice asked. In the background, he could hear dance music.
His stomach tightened.
“Where’s Samira?” he demanded.
“She’s here, she’s fine, just a little…she had a bit too much and said you were her DD and to call you.”
High pitched laughter broke out over the phone, followed by what sounded like the phone dropping. Pope frowned.
“Sam! I’m calling him now!”
“Lemme talk to him!” That was definitely Samira and Andrew briefly considered demanding to speak to her, as well, but then the unfamiliar voice came back.
“Sorry, dropped the phone,” she sounded breathless and a little amused. “So can you come pick her up?”
“Yeah, of course. You sure she’s okay?”
“She’s fine, just tipsy. Well, pretty tipsy. And she kept asking us to call you for her so…I’m calling.”
“Okay, I’m leaving now. Don’t move.”
“We’ll be here. Aw, a doggie! Look how cute-” And the phone went dead.
Pope was already in his car.
He pulled up outside the gay bar, irritated that there were so many people milling about outside. He put the car in park, uncaring that it was in a fire zone, and stepped out into the crowd. Music was thumping from inside, bright lights were buzzing with electricity, and laughter and voices were overlapping from all directions. Only the bouncer was silent. Pope felt a headache forming between his eyes.
“THERE HE IS.”
He turned and only got a flash of dark hair before an entire body thudded against him. He grunted, then immediately wrapped his own arms around Samira. Several female voices “awww”ed at the same time.
“I knew you’d come,” she mumbled, a slight slur to her voice.
“You called me,” he said.
“No, Inez called you,” she clarified and waved a hand behind her.
“I’m Inez,” a woman said, laughing. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hello,” he said and when he released one hand to shake hers, Samira stumbled. He grasped her again as she lifted her arms up around him, hanging from his neck.
“Whoa, whoa,” Inez said as she and a couple other women helped steady her.
“This is Andrew. I told you he was real,” Samira said suddenly, glaring at her coworkers and patting him on the chest.
“You’re right, he is cute,” one of the women said.
“And built like a brick shithouse,” a third observed, looking him up and down.
That annoying wave of heat only intensified as Samira leaned against his chest and giggled.
“Don’t embarrass him,” she insisted, still grinning. “That’s my job.”
Inez tried to hide her smile as she said, “Sorry, she had a pretty good time tonight.”
“I’m so glad, she needed this,” one of the other women said affectionately.
“I did not,” Samira insisted. “I’m very fun all the time.”
Giggles from the women. She looked up at Pope, her eyes wide and watery.
“Aren’t I, Andrew?” she asked, pouting.
He swallowed and nodded.
“Very fun,” he repeated.
“You okay to get her home? Need a hand?” Inez asked.
“I’m good,” Pope said at the same time Samira replied, “Andrew doesn’t need a hand. He’s got this.”
He nodded again and looked up at the smirking faces of the other women. He hoped they wouldn’t tease her too much when she returned to work on Monday.
“How much did she drink?” he asked. “And what?”
“Just prosecco,” Samira insisted as she pressed her face against his chest. She looked up and smiled dreamily. “It was very good prosecco.”
“It was,” another woman in the group agreed.
“She didn’t have much, she’s a bit of a lightweight, I’m afraid,” Inez observed.
“Don’t be afraid,” Samira mumbled from his chest.
“Come on, let’s go back inside, Maggie’s waiting for us,” one of the women said, yanking on Inez’s arm.
“You’re all good?” she asked Pope again.
He nodded.
“Yes, thank you for calling,” he said. “I’ll get her home.”
“Have her text us when she gets in,” she said as she followed the others back inside the club. He nodded again and raised a hand in farewell.
“Bye bye,” Samira sang to no one and then looked up at Pope. She blinked a few times before her eyes focused on his face. Her mouth broke out in a wide smile. “Andrew, you came.”
“I told you I was going to pick you up,” he said gently.
“So pick me up,” she teased, tightening her arms around his neck and falling into a dead weight.
“Wait, wait, Samira.”
“Hey, buddy,” the bouncer called over the din of the music and the crowd. Pope looked up. “Better get going before your car gets towed.”
He turned and saw the traffic enforcer car inching down the street. He turned back and nodded in appreciation.
“Thanks, man,” he said and then wrapped an arm around Samira’s waist. “Come on, we gotta go.”
“Mmm,” she whined, seemingly very comfortable hanging off him.
He sighed and then reached down and picked her up, resulting in her laughing uproariously as she swung her feet in the air. He couldn’t help it, he smiled as he headed towards the car and managed to open the passenger side door with one hand.
“So strong,” she sighed as he gently placed on the seat and buckled her in.
“Uh-huh,” he agreed as he carefully closed the door, mindful of her feet. He hurried to the other side, got in, and started the car, leaving the fire zone and the traffic enforcer in the rear view mirror. He exhaled a breath and glanced at Samira, who was leaning her head against the window. “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”
She shook her head.
“Nope,” she said, popping the “P” very distinctly, “I drank just enough to feel good but not to throw up.” She looked at him with a solemn expression on her face. “You should be very proud of me.”
“I am,” he replied, nodding. “I’m guessing you had a fun night.”
“I actually did,” she said. “Girls night is fun. We should do it more often.”
“I don’t think I’m invited.”
“Poor you,” she pouted, reaching out to tap his leg in comfort. “Everyone should be able to experience girls night at least once.”
“You can tell me about it, instead.”
She yawned and nodded.
“The new bar on the river is overrated,” she sighed. “But the drag show was amazing. They were all so beautiful.”
“Uh-huh.”
“They do brunch on Sunday. We should go.”
Pope neglected to point out that he had never been to brunch, drag or otherwise, so he merely nodded.
“But not tomorrow,” she groaned. “I want to sleep all day tomorrow.”
“Maybe not all day.”
“I love my bed,” she continued. “It’s my favorite.”
“Good thing we’re heading there now.”
“We?”
Pope fell silent but felt that red heat rising to his ears. She laughed and tapped his leg again.
“I’m just teasing,” she grinned before yawning.
“I know,” he murmured.
“I like to tease you.” Suddenly, her eyes widened and she leaned closer to him, concern on her face. “Does it bother you? Am I being mean?”
“No, no,” he said quickly, glancing at her with what he hoped was a reassuring face. “You’re not mean. You’re never mean.”
“But does it bother you?” she asked again.
“Not at all,” he said genuinely. “I like it.”
She smiled and leaned back against the window.
“Good,” she murmured. “That’s good.”
She was still smiling even as her eyes closed. Pope stayed quiet and drove carefully to her apartment, staying under the speed limit and not letting himself think that he just wanted to prolong this experience. She just looked so peaceful. He was almost reluctant to wake her when he parked at her place. He also wasn’t sure how to. He looked down at his hands and flashes of all the horrific, violent things he’d done with them ran through his mind.
He didn’t deserve to be with her. He didn’t deserve to have Samira feel so safe with him that she fell asleep in his car, trusted him enough to pick her up, sit in her apartment as she got dressed, listen when she talked about work or her mother or anything at all.
Fuck.
He took a deep breath and slowly reached out, hesitating just above her hand before running his index finger along the top of it.
“Samira,” he said softly.
Her eyes opened slowly.
“We’re home?” she yawned.
Pope’s heart flipped at that statement but he ignored it.
“Yeah, let’s get you inside.”
She stretched and moaned and Pope decided to ignore that as well.
“Okay,” she sighed and reached for the door handle.
“I got it,” he said and quickly unbuckled, left the driver side, and opened the passenger side door. She smiled up at him blearily. He held her arm as she climbed out and wrapped his other around her waist.
“I’m fine,” she said as she steadied herself on her feet. Pope immediately let go. “No, I mean…okay.”
They walked into the apartment building and Samira fished in her purse as they stood outside her door.
“Ah-ha,” she said, taking out her keys and shaking them. “See? Still got your pepper spray.”
“I would hope so, it’s been one night.”
“Didn’t need to use it.”
“Good. I hope you never have to.”
Pope watched Samira struggle only for a few moments with her keys and then open the door. She walked in and left it ajar, and it took a few steps before she realized he hadn’t followed her in. She turned, confusion on her face.
“You coming?” she asked.
In the doorway, he wrung his hands before shoving them into his pockets.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he mumbled.
Samira’s gaze softened and she smiled gently.
“You ought to drink some water and make sure you have ibuprofen nearby for tomorrow morning,” he said instead, looking to the side so he wouldn’t have to see the affection on her face. It had to be from the alcohol.
“I will,” she agreed.
“I…and don’t forget to text your friends.”
“Andrew?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded.
“Seriously,” she continued, her voice firm as if she was saying something terribly important, “you’re really good to me.”
Pope was at a loss for words, and there was a lightness in his chest that felt almost painful. He knew he should say something, anything, especially with her gazing at him with that look on her face. Like he was someone worth knowing.
“Get some sleep,” he said softly. “And lock up.”
Something behind her eyes shuttered before she offered one last tentative smile as he turned and closed the door behind him. He waited to hear her turn the lock and then took a deep, shuddering breath before leaving.
He was walking out of the gym, thinking only of a hot shower, when his phone rang. His heart clenched. It was her.
“Samira?”
“Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.
“No,” he glanced at his watch. It was only a quarter after nine. “I thought you were gonna sleep in today.”
“I wish,” she groaned, “but I don’t think I’m physically able to sleep past 8:30 anymore. Plus I’ve got a headache and laying around in bed just makes it worse. Thanks for reminding me of the ibuprofen last night. When I woke up and saw the bottle on my nightstand with a glass of water, I almost cried.”
“But you’ve still got a headache?”
“It’s getting better,” she sighed. “I just ate and am drinking tea as we speak.”
“And did you text your coworkers last night?”
“Yes, I did,” and then she laughed. “They all asked about you.”
Nervousness itched at his throat.
“Oh,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry, nothing bad,” she soothed. “I think half of them have crushes on you.”
He remained silent as he tried to figure out if she was teasing him.
“Andrew?”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t annoy you too much last night, did I?”
He blinked.
“No,” he replied, genuinely confused. “You didn’t annoy me at all.”
“I was definitely bratty.”
“No, just…funny.”
“Oh, God.”
“It’s okay.”
She sighed and Pope was suddenly struck with the need to be with her in person, to reassure her, maybe even say something to get her to laugh.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly and he blinked in confusion. “I get touchy-feeling when I drink and I know that’s…not your favorite.”
He exhaled and realized the feeling he was experiencing was definitely stronger than fondness.
“It’s fine,” he insisted.
“No, it’s not, and I am sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“You didn’t. I…had fun last night.”
She sighed.
“You need to have a genuinely fun night,” Samira insisted. “One where you aren’t just babysitting and driving around.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“I’m off on Thursday.”
He blinked again.
“Oh,” he breathed, “okay, well, I work until four that day.”
“Good,” she said, “does six work?”
He nodded and then remembered he was on the phone.
“Yes,” he said breathlessly.
“Perfect,” and she sounded genuinely happy. “I owe you, remember?”
“Samira-”
“Oh God, my mom’s calling. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay,” he gasped.
“Good, looking forward to Thursday.”
“...Me too. Bye.”
And she hung up. Pope couldn’t help but grin as he walked to his car.