Work Text:
"I did something."
Parker looks up from her iPad to see John standing there, trusty Dunkin in his left hand and phone in his right.
"What did you do?" she asks.
"We can't talk about this here," he says instead of giving her a straight answer. She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"John, what did you do?"
John looks around conspiratorily before holding out his phone to her, making sure no one else is watching. Ellis puts down her iPad and takes the phone, squinting at it.
Today 2:14 AM
You - 2:14 AM
Here's the address
2701 Penn Ave, Pittsburgh, PA 15222
7:30 btw
Jack Abbot PTMC - 2:17 AM
Thanks John
Ellis stares at it for a few more seconds before looking up, unimpressed. "…So you're going on a date with Dr. Abbot?"
"No," Shen says, swiping the phone from her immediately before scrolling through his texts and selecting something else. "Now look." He hands her the phone again.
Yesterday 7:53 PM
You - 7:53 PM
I promise it'll be worth your while!!!!!!!
If it's not I'll buy you a Dunkin gift card
Samira Mohan PTMC - 7:55 PM
I don't go to Dunkin
You - 7:55 PM
You should
2701 Penn Ave, Pittsburgh, PA 15222
7:30
Samira Mohan - PTMC liked your message.
Ellis stares at the address for a moment. Then she swipes and goes back to the messages with Abbot. Then with Mohan. Then with Abbot. John grabs his phone back before she accidentally clicks on his messages with his fiancée.
"What did you do?" she hisses at him, leaning in and looking around.
"In my defense, Jack asked me—"
"Jack asked you what?" she whisper-yells, looking around again.
"He said that he— he needed to get back into the game," Shen starts and Ellis makes a face.
"When he's still hung up on Mohan?"
"That's what I said!" John exclaims. "But he insisted. So I figured I'd do some…"
"Trickery," Ellis supplies and John sputters as he tries to explain it away with some other excuse. "Conniving. Tomfoolery," she suggests.
"It was going to happen anyways," John interrupts. "I only expedited the process."
"So they're going on a date? Tonight?" Parker asks, looking over at the clock.
"Tonight," John agrees.
"How'd you convince her?" Parker asks, leaning against the desk to think.
"She owed me a favour. Plus, Asians and matchmaking… it's like a rite of passage. For both of us." John sighs wistfully. "I still remember the first time I was forced on a blind date…"
"This ruins my bet, you know," Parker comments. "I thought they'd get together during a holiday."
"This is kind of like a holiday. They both have the day off."
"Right. What was your bet again?"
"Oh, I made a new one. They'll hit it off on a blind date."
Parker punches him in the shoulder.
Jack is sitting at the bar, which probably isn't the classiest way to wait, but he's nervous. His good leg is bouncing up and down with energy and his bad one is still slightly numb from where he massaged it earlier today. He checks his phone. 7:26. Calm the fuck down, Jack. You've been on dates before. Sure, it's been two years since you kissed a woman, maybe twenty since you kissed one that wasn't your wife, but this doesn't have to lead to kissing. You don't even have to like her. You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but you're putting yourself out there, which is really good for you.
Or at least that's what his therapist says.
Jack thumbs the condensation off his glass of water and tries not to take another sip. He's been here for ten minutes already and polished off four glasses in that time. He's partially worried he's going to pee his pants in the middle of the date. But he's not, because he's a fully grown man, and not a 5-year-old boy.
He watches the door warily. John said that she'd be wearing a green dress. Jack knows exactly what green looks like, so that's what he's been looking for, but his main concern is with who's wearing the dress. His mind has conjured up hundreds of possibilities for who this mystery woman may be. Younger than him, he knows that, John said she was turning 30. He grimaces at the thought of doing icebreakers with a woman who wasn't even born when he finished high school. Young, smart, apparently, and curly hair. Jack's first thought was a woman who looked uncannily like Dawn, frizzy brown hair that, when straightened, poured past her waist, but he banished that thought the moment it came. His second thought was a woman with brown skin, black curls polished with curl cream and natural oils, and dimples accentuating her smile. He banished that thought too.
In truth, she was the reason he was here. Jack was plenty familiar with the concept of pining— Dawn didn't let him take her out until 4 months after meeting her. But once they were dating, once they were married, there was no more pining to be done. He had her. Wholly, completely, in every way possible. Well.
Almost every way possible.
Once she was gone, he had nowhere to put all the love in his heart that he had for her.
He didn't think he'd ever want a woman like he wanted Dawn again. And then there was summer, and there was the day shift, and there was Samira Mohan. He hadn't even wanted to work during the days, content instead to disappear and sleep away the sunlight because it reminded him of Dawn. (Even her name was everywhere, he told his therapist. Dawn used to be what woke him up in the morning, and now he wishes her goodnight before he turns out the lights and closes the curtains.) But the day shift continued anyways, and there she was, young and bright-eyed and whip-smart.
Jack had never met a mind like hers. She soaked in information like she needed it to breathe, turned it over in her brain before filing it away in fractions of the amount of time it took for other residents. She followed instructions perfectly, listened to patients like no other doctor did, found humanity in things no one else did. Originally, he admired her. Admired her optimism, her kindness, her endurance. And then one day he woke up and realized he wanted her.
Not her body. He wanted her, wanted to know her, wanted her to know him in the same way. Her mind had so much room— he wanted to know if her heart had room too.
But she was young, and he was old, and she was bright, and he was jaded, and she was the future, and he was stuck living in the past. So in an effort to change, to be better for himself and for Dawn and for his therapist, he decided to take one (1) step forward. Away from the moping he's been doing for two years. He asked John to set him up with one of his doctor friends that he knew. John agreed enthusiastically. And now he's here, watching the door, trying not to think about Samira Mohan.
It's just his luck that Samira Mohan walks in.
She freezes at the hostess stand and stares at him. One of her hands goes up in a wave before she drops it back down halfway, looking around. Jack is staring at her dress.
Green.
Shen has a fucked-up sense of humour if he thinks this is funny.
Jack slides off of his chair and walks over to her. She sits there, stunned, hand still halfway. He grabs it and holds it.
"I swear to God, I didn't know," he starts, staring into her wide eyes. "If I had known, I wouldn't have come." Samira blinks a few times before making a confused face.
"You're…"
"Who Shen set you up with, yes," Jack finishes, swiping a hand down his face awkwardly. "I'm so sorry, Samira. I'll go right now." He adjusts, dropping her hand before starting to make a move. Samira side-steps to block him, cocking her jaw.
"So you're the older doctor that's attracted to intelligence," she says, voice completely unreadable. Jack grimaces.
"Is that how he described me?"
"Something along those lines."
"Then yeah, I guess that's me."
Samira looks him up and down. He wants to fidget but doesn't, actually quite proud of his outfit choice today. He's wearing dark brown pants, nice ones, brown shoes, a brown jacket, and a cream-coloured knit polo that accentuates his chest but isn't too tight. He thought that it was a great outfit, all things considered. Samira looks back up at his face and her face works for a moment as she figures something out, contemplates what to say.
"I mean, John made the reservation," she says slowly, thinking. "It would be a waste to leave."
Jack blinks rapidly a few times. He can't fucking believe she actually wants to have dinner with him, whether to be in his presence or just to try out the place or what-the-fuckever.
"Yeah," he says hoarsely before clearing his throat and trying again. "Yeah. We have a table in the corner." He gestures vaguely and Samira follows where his hand is attempting to point.
"Okay," she agrees simply. She makes her way over to the table and plops herself down before Jack can even so much as argue. He walks over and sits down across from her, watching as she settles her purse onto the chair behind her. He does the same with his jacket before awkwardly sliding the menu across to her and picking up his own, eyes flitting over the food before he looks up again.
Samira looks radiant. She's done something to her skin, or maybe it's just the light, but she actually looks like she's glowing. It's the kind of thing you see in skincare magazines or on billboards, not across from you at a restaurant. Her curls bounce this way and that when she moves her head slightly, settling onto her bare shoulders. Jack stops his wandering eyes from travelling to her cleavage, but he knows that the dress she's wearing is gorgeous. She's gorgeous. Jack swallows and looks back down at the menu, trying rapidly to reconstruct his version of what he thought dinner would look like.
"Samira," he says quietly and her eyes flit up to his over the menu. "Please don't think you have to do this because I'm your superior."
"You're not my direct superior," Samira reasons, tilting her head a little. "Robby is."
"When you work doubles, I am your direct superior."
"Am I working a double right now?"
Jack's mouth quirks.
"No, you're not."
"Then I think we're fine," Samira concludes. Her brown eyes drop back down to the menu.
The waiter comes around and Jack orders another water. Samira gets an iced tea. She says they need a few more minutes to decide.
"I haven't even looked at the menu," Jack mutters somewhat sheepishly before unfolding the menu, eyeing the choices. He settles on a classic— burger and fries— and puts the menu back down, fiddling his fingers.
"I looked at it before I came," Samira admits, putting her menu down too to look at him.
"Oh, so all that careful inspecting you were doing..?" Jack says with a slight smile. She stacks the menus together, huffing out a soft breath.
"Was making sure my choice was still there."
"And not avoiding eye contact with me."
"That might have factored in too."
They smile at each other like idiots for a few seconds before being interrupted by the waiter plopping down their drinks.
"Are we ready to order?" he says cheerily and Jack nods.
"I'll have the Surf N Turf Burger. Can I get that with onion rings?"
"Of course."
"Perfect, thanks." The waiter looks expectantly at Samira who sits up straighter.
"Can I have the Veggie Black Bean Burger? Onion rings too, please. Thank you."
The waiter walks off and Jack makes a face at Samira. "Veggie Black Bean Burger?"
"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't order a heart attack in a burger. You know, you should really watch what you eat considering your age—"
"My age?"
"—there was a study done on 50-year-olds that showed—"
"50 year olds?"
"—plant-based diets significantly decreased presence of cardiovascular disease risk factors."
Jack stares at her for a second.
"You want me to go vegan."
Samira huffs out a breath, not a laugh but something close. Jack grins.
"I didn't say vegan, I said plant-based diet."
"Wasn't there also a study that showed plant-based diets are directly correlated with mental health issues?"
"I think I know the one you're talking about. That study disproportionately represented plant-based diets as a symptom of ARFID."
Jack smirks.
"I'll think about it."
"You really should," she replies, raising her eyebrows. "I've been a vegetarian for as long as I can remember. And look at me."
"Look at you," Jack says fondly.
Samira fails to hide a smile by looking down.
"I like your dress," Jack adds because he didn't get a chance to tell her when she first came in. Now that he thinks about it, he would have said a lot of things instead of just sticking his foot directly into his mouth. For one, I like your dress. For two, I can't believe it's you, thank God it's you, how could it have been anyone but you. For three, you look beautiful.
"Thank you," Samira says, tucking a curl behind her ear.
"And your hair."
"Thank you," she says again, smiling up at him bashfully. "I like your outfit."
"Thanks," Jack says, looking down. "I asked Parker for help."
"Parker Ellis?"
"Yes," he agrees. "She's my most fashionable coworker."
"Do you think she knows that I'm the one you're on a date with?" she asks.
Jack's eyes widen. He rubs a hand down one side of his face, mouth dropping slightly. "Holy shit. She probably does."
Samira laughs, covering her mouth. "They probably set this up together," he continues, putting the pieces together. "Oh my God. The bet."
"The bet?" Samira asks amusedly.
"The bet!" Jack repeats. "They have a bet on— on—" He stops suddenly, feeling warmth rush to his face.
"…On?" Samira asks. Jack groans and brings both hands up to cover his face.
"On… on whether or not we are… going to get together," he finishes, muffled through his hands. Samira sits still, her face going through a number of expressions before settling somewhere between amused and horrified. Jack laughs without meaning to.
"For how long?" she asks finally.
"For how long what?"
"For how long has this bet been going on?" she elaborates, taking a sip of her iced tea.
"They only told me about 4 months ago," he says thoughtfully. "But I imagine it was going on a long time before that."
They sit in silence for a moment.
"…So they… must have had some kind of reason for making a bet like that," Samira concludes with that brilliant mind of hers. Jack hates it. He loves it.
"Yes," he says like a dumbass.
"What was…"
"And here we are!" their waiter interrupts cheerily, placing a plate down in front of Samira before she can finish. "That's the veggie burger for you, Surf N Turf for you. Did you guys want any sauce?"
"I'm okay," Jack says at the same time Samira replies, "No, thank you."
"Alright, well let me know how everything came out and feel free to call me over if you need anything. Enjoy!" He walks off.
Jack pokes at his onion rings. Avoids eye contact with Samira.
"Jack," she says amusedly and he sighs, leaning back in his chair to look at her (even though he really doesn't want to). God, he likes how it sounds when she says his name. It's different, and he likes it.
"Samira."
She purses her lips to hide her smile.
"Can you be honest with me?" she says.
"Yes."
"Okay. Why did Shen and Ellis think we were going to get together?"
Jack looks down, a flush spreading from his ears to his cheeks to his chest. He doesn't want to get into some big explanation as to how he accidentally confessed his feelings for Samira to Ellis on a random Sunday. Instead, he opts for the easier explanation.
"You remember Pittfest?"
"Pittfest?" Obviously, she wasn't expecting him to bring it up. "Back in March?"
"Yeah," he says, looking up. He bites his lip as he tries to think of how to put it. "Well, Emery said that she thought you should move to night shift."
"Dr. Walsh?"
"Yes. And, I agreed. And Emery said… well, Emery said to Parker and Parker said to John, basically, that she thought there was some… I don't know, chemistry, between us." He runs a hand through the curls at the base of his neck, feeling.
"The pigtail catheter," Samira says suddenly and Jack wants to kiss her and her beautiful brain.
"The pigtail catheter," he echoes. "That was fantastic work, by the way."
"Thank you," she says, though she doesn't mean it. She's still thinking. Jack loves watching it play out on her face. "No, I can… see why they would think that," she says slowly.
"You can?"
"I can," she agrees, poking at her burger (which, despite his omnivorous diet, Jack thinks actually looks very good). Jack bites his lip again.
"I thought you had a boyfriend."
"What?" Samira says suddenly, eyes widening.
"There was something Princess said— something about you and Cassie going out on a double date," Jack says, blushing slightly as he looks away. "I don't know. I guess I thought…"
"Cassie drags me to two-mans so that she can get some, not me," Samira says, straight-forward. Despite her tone, she's smiling. "I think you need to stop gossiping with the nurses, Jack."
They both laugh and Jack pokes at his fries during a moment of silence.
"Samira," he says and she looks up at him. "I was honest with you. Do you think you can be honest with me?"
She blinks.
"Of course."
He leans forward, ignoring his burger to look at her, really look at her, directly.
"When we were working together, were you flirting with me?"
She blinks. Blinks again. Opens her mouth to say something then closes it.
"Not… purposefully, maybe," she eventually manages. Jack is glad he leaned in, because now that he's paying attention, he can see that subtle blood start to rush to her cheeks and her ears, a dark red starting to pop up behind whatever shiny skin product she must have put on. He wonders how many times he hasn't been paying attention and missed it.
"I was flirting with you," he says, because it's good to be direct. "And if that was inappropriate of me, tell me now, but I just needed you to know before we continued."
Samira thinks.
"You flirt with everyone."
"Yeah, but that comes naturally. With you I was trying. And failing, sometimes, because… well, because."
A beat.
"Be honest with me again," Samira challenges, leaning in. Jack raises an eyebrow. "Are you flirting with me now?"
"Yes. Are you?"
Samira grins.
"Yes."
"So we're both flirting with each other," Jack concludes with a giddy feeling in his stomach, voice coming off far more self-assured than he feels. "That's settled." He pops an onion ring in his mouth and makes an obnoxious sound at how good it is. It's obvious Samira wants to talk more about the situation but he gestures toward her plate. "Eat," he insists, softer than he intended to come off. "We can talk after."
She exhales softly, a concession, and takes a bite.
They do talk after. They talk for a long time after, actually, long enough that Jack orders them dessert and they end up sharing stories over a molten lava cake and two spoons. Her leg has been bumping against his during the entirety of the night and he hasn't told her to move.
"Now I'm speaking Spanish," Jack says, warding off Samira's spoon from his side of the cake, "she's speaking Portuguese, and the patient is still screaming in pain asking me what's going to happen to her foot."
"That's insane," Samira concludes, crossing her spoon over the neutral zone and directly into Jack's ice cream.
"What's insane is you stealing all my dessert." He taps her spoon with his. "I paid for this, you know."
"You said, and I quote, 'Wanna share dessert?' Either you're a bad sharer or you lied to me." Samira shrugs, dipping her spoon into the vanilla and licking it off in an egregiously sexy manner. Jack loses his train of thought for 9 seconds before recalibrating.
"Share meant 50/50. Now, I'm a gentleman, so I'm willing to negotiate 60/40, Jesus—" as she licks her spoon clean again, "—but you are well approaching 70/30 territory right now."
"I'll pay you back next time," she promises, taking another bite. Jack smirks.
"So there will be a next time?"
"Mmm, maybe?" She licks at her spoon.
"Are you trying to distract me?" Jack asks, completely lost in how her lips move around the utensil.
"Are you distracted?"
"Very."
"Then yes." She puts the spoon down and tilts her head at him, amused. His eyes flicker back up from the spoon to her face.
"You know, for a woman who wasn't aware I was flirting with her for the better half of two years, I would say you're doing a fantastic job at it now."
"Practice makes perfect," she replies with a shrug. He dips his spoon down and finishes the last of the lava cake, leaving only their two spoons and an unsatisfying mess of white and brown swirling around each other. "Are you finished?"
"Yup," he says, popping the P. "But I don't know about you, but I kinda don't want this date to end," he adds with a soft smile. Samira smiles back, standing up at the same time as him.
"I don't have anywhere to be," she agrees, slinging her purse over her shoulder. Jack's hand subtly goes to the curve of her back as they walk out of the restaurant together, tossing a Thank you behind them to the hostess. Samira shivers in the cold and Jack immediately tugs his jacket off, wrapping it around her. She smiles at him.
"So chivalrous," she comments.
"Something like that," he replies, steering her into the alleyway next to the restaurant, where it's a little bit warmer and a little bit more intimate. She smiles as he backs her up against the brick wall, running a hand down the polo he's wearing.
"You're not cold?" she asks, focused on the way her nail is scraping lightly against the fabric.
"Not at all," he says softly, watching her lips. She brings her hand down to his belt and toys with it idly, as if it's a conversation starter and not the first thing he threw on.
"I like this," she tells him.
"Me too," he says gruffly.
"How long have you had it?"
"Since before you were in high school."
She hums then looks up at him, a soft smile on her face, her dimples popping when she doesn't hide her amusement well enough.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, not meaning to sound as vulnerable as he feels. But it ends up coming out that way anyway, open and raw like a wound that he never really tended to correctly. She doesn't call him on it. She just nods.
He cups the side of her face gently and steadies his hand on her waist before leaning in and covering her lips with his own. She's soft and warm and everything he's ever dreamed of, late nights alone in his bed or his shower, only she's here, she's pressing against him and sliding her hands into his hair, she's pulling him closer to her. He groans softly as she dips her tongue into his mouth, hand flexing against her waist to stop himself from doing something truly indecent in this alley. Samira lets out a soft sound of discontent when he pulls back, reaching a hand up to wipe his mouth, huffing out soft breaths.
"Why'd you stop?" she asks breathlessly.
"Because there are things that I want to do to you— say to you— that should not be seen or heard by anyone else."
Samira flushes in that subtle but extraordinarily beautiful way she does.
"We could walk to my place," she offers.
"How far is it?"
"Less than 5 minutes."
He tugs on the ends of his jacket to pull her off of the wall gently.
"Then let's go."
Samira grins, clasps her hand in his, and leads the way.