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"Oh fuck," Samira groaned grinding down onto Jack, lying beneath her on the lowered seats of his Jeep, parked in the distant reach of the Pitt's parking lot.
They learned through enough trial and error, enough mornings wherein Jack bribed Shen with the promise of Dunkin to cover the last hour of night shift, that Samira on top in the back of Jack's ancient vehicle worked best for a handover quickie. There was never enough time—on the schedule, in these moments—but they made do the best they could.
They savored the rare occasions when their days off aligned, but it was rarely enough to quell the need they had for each other. They'd tried the stairwell, supply closets, and once, the family bathroom outside the waiting room (that had been their closest and grossest call). So, when the scheduling gods saw fit to punish them with ten opposing shifts in a row, Jack would park as far away from the entrance as he could find and hand his patients to his fellow attending at 6 a.m. And for the most part, it worked.
Even cramped and partially clothed, racing the clock, sex with Jack was still the best she'd ever experienced.
She maneuvered herself up and down, savoring Jack's grunts beneath her, his thumb pressed to where her clit was aching. It wouldn't be long until they both tumbled over the edge together, morning sun burning orange through the windows.
"Oh, fuck, Oh, fuck," she chanted, trying to keep the steady pace she needed when she spotted what she thought was the shaggy hair of Dennis Whitaker four spaces over from where Jack had parked.
"Oh, FUCK," she exclaimed and rolled off of Jack, ducking below the sight line of the windows.
"I thought I saw—" Samira started to explain, before an agonizing groan emitted from Jack's throat.
It was a strangled sound, like Jack was trying to dampen the sound on the way out but the pain was unmistakable.
"Ohh, fuck," she breathed, looking down to where Jack's usually ramrod erection was mangled to nearly a right angle.
Air hissed out of Jack's mouth, but even through the obvious anguish, he seemed to be doing his level best to keep a cool head.
"Samira, honey, I need you to go get Robby," Jack breathed, letting out a controlled exhale then inhale.
"What? I can't get Robby? What am I supposed to tell him? That I was riding you in your car during shift change and I broke your penis? He'd kill me," she countered. Her mind was panicking. She considered herself to be a cool head in a crisis. She was an emergency physician. This was not the first sex injury she'd ever witnessed.
But it seemed that being a participant in the sex that caused the injury radically shifted her perspective because she couldn't form a cohesive thought.
"Sweetheart," Jack groaned, clearly making an effort to keep his voice even. "It's either that or you call Walsh and hope she hasn't gone home for the day."
The mention of the no-nonsense surgeon, one of Jack's closest friends, and a non-Robby solution to their predicament brought things into focus.
"Right. Walsh. I can call Walsh. Where's your phone?" she prompted.
Jack rolled to his side to reach into the pocket of his scrubs, whimpering as he did so, before pulling out his phone and handing it to Samira.
She keyed in her birthday, the passcode to his phone, and scrolled through his contacts until he found Emery's number.
"Shouldn't you still be on shift right now?" Walsh answered with no preamble, her tone accusatory.
"Dr. Walsh, it's Samira. Mohan. Samira Mohan." Even given the urgent nature of the phone call, Samira paused, not knowing how much of their relationship Jack had shared.
"What's wrong with Abbot," Walsh prompted, voice immediately clear and demanding.
"He's injured. I injured his—Well, we were in his Jeep in the parking lot and I rolled and I broke—Well, I broke his—" Samira tried.
"Spit it out, Mohan," Walsh urged.
"I think I broke his penis," Samira answered, voice sounding small even to herself.
"Jesus, fuck. Drop a pin and I'll be right there," Walsh exhaled and promptly hung up.
With shaking hands, Samira did as she was told, turning her attention to Jack.
Even whimpering in pain he was so handsome in the morning light, doing his best to take deep even breaths. "Walsh should be here soon," she assured him, her voice still shaky.
"Thank you, baby," he breathed on a wince.
"Jack, I'm so sor—" she tried, feeling frantic.
"No, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong. And if this is how I go...." his voice took on a teasing tone through his grimace.
"Don't even joke. You're going to be fine," she insisted, feeling terrified. She could feel her breaths start to come in shallow, panicked gasps.
"Distract me until she gets here, please," Jack cut her off, clearly somehow more worried about her in this situation than himself.
"How?"
"Explain to me why Walsh was a better option than Robby? It's not like he doesn't know we're seeing each other?" he intoned.
Samira tried not to think about the fact that Jack and Samira had disclosed their relationship to HR and by proxy, Michael Robinavitch, with three months left on the clock of her residency.
"Robby would make it my fault. Walsh will make it yours," she admitted sheepishly. "Walsh is scary but Robby is mean. I didn't want to get yelled at."
"Well-reasoned, baby," he agreed. "But I wouldn't let Robby yell at you, I promise."
"I don't know if you've noticed but you're a little indisposed at the moment," she countered when she heard the back of the Jeep unlatch.
She looked back to see a scrub-clad Walsh standing with her hands on her hips, a wheel chair next to her.
She chuckled low. "This is what you get for trying to keep up with teenagers at your age," Walsh chastised.
"I'm thirty-one," Samira corrected, feeling her face heat.
"Sweetheart, maybe not the—" Jack tried.
"And he's what? Seventy?" Emery answered.
"Could we joke about my AARP Card later? I'm in a not insignificant amount of pain here," Jack moaned.
"Do you think you can get into the chair?" Emery asked, game face suddenly appearing.
"Mira, baby, can you—" Jack asked.
"Right, of course," Samira agreed, wrapping her arm around him, and shuffling him down the back of the car into the waiting chair.
"Can you grab a blanket to cover—" Jack asked, gesturing to his lap.
Samira clambered out of the car handing him the blanket they had been laying on and closing the hatch. She followed as Walsh pushed Jack towards, thankfully, a side entrance.
Samira began to follow the pair of them through the doors when Walsh stopped her.
"What do you think you're doing?" She prompted sternly.
"I'm coming to help," Samira insisted.
"Oh, I think you've helped enough," Walsh remarked, though not entirely unkindly.
"I need to—" Samira objected.
"We don't treat the people we love. You know that. I shouldn't even be doing this but I've already chopped off one limb so what's another," she offered, an attempt at an apology.
"Not funny," Jack intoned.
"Everything about this is funny," she countered.
"But I need—" Samira tried, the words 'people we love' ringing in her ears.
"You need to go clock in. This should take four hours, max. I will page you when you can come and see him. He will be fine. I promise. I've saved him from much worse," Walsh assured her, voice more sincere than Samira had ever heard it.
Samira eyes flitted to Jack's face, handsome features contorted in pain. She reached down to stroke his cheek. "I—" she tried.
"I know, sweetheart. I know. Go clock in. Be good. I'll see you soon," he assured her, leaning into her touch.
"Okay," she nodded shakily.
"Go, I got him," Walsh insisted. Samira pressed a quick kiss to Jack's lips, hoping it conveyed what neither of them had yet said, before turning and heading towards the main entrance.
---
Samira had never had a shift pass this slowly. Not before her boards, not with half the staff down in the middle of rotavirus season, not a nightshift on a painfully off week.
She checked her phone so often, Robby had started to get on her case, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was desperate for an update.
She was rounding the desk at the hub when Emma pulled motioned for her
"Dr. Walsh paged you for a surgery consult?" Emma informed her but it came out more of a question. She understood. There was little reason for an attending trauma surgeon to be paging a fourth year emergency resident for a consult.
"Did she say where to?"
"Fourth floor? 406."
"Right. Could you let Robby know if he asks where I am," Samira asked, realizing that Walsh had been offering her cover to leave her post.
She didn't wait for a response, turning tail and heading for the elevators, punching the up button like her insistence would make it appear faster.
Walsh was waiting for her at the elevators, looking up from her phone.
"How is he," Samira demanded.
"He's fine. He was literally on hospital grounds when it happened so there was no undue delay in care, which, as you know, is critical for penile fractures. Urology got him taken care of," Walsh explained, walking in the direction of 406.
Jack was already sitting up in the hospital bed and he met Samira's eyes and smiled. "Hey, beautiful," he smiled, a little far off.
"He's a little high on the good stuff at the moment," Walsh explained as Samira made her way to Jack's bedside, pressing her lips to his cheek. Jack surprised her, pulling her face to kiss her squarely on the lips.
"Hold your horses there, Romeo," Walsh tutted, and Samira escaped his embrace to stand to height. "He's in a cast that should prevent erections. No intercourse for you love birds for four weeks. And I'm going to have to insist that he dip into his stockpile of PTO and stay home for at least two weeks before I see him back on hospital grounds."
"You're such a buzzkill," Jack quipped, voice a little sharper, and Samira let out a sharp laugh. Jack had a much higher tolerance to narcotics than the average person, clearly, he still had plenty of his wits about him.
"Truly ironic that it'll be two weeks we don't have to worry about schedules aligning and we can't have sex," Samira sighed.
"Well, you can't have vaginal intercourse but that doesn't mean no sex," Emery offered from across the room. Samira was surprised at her own lack of embarrassment, but she attributed it to the fact that Emery had already borne witness to the most embarrassing sexual encounter of her life.
"No, I know. I just feel bad for him. One sided isn't fun," Samira admitted. She supposed Emery was both Jack's doctor and friend in this moment and already privy to their sex life.
"Who says it has to be one side," Emery smirked.
"Emery..." Jack chided, Samira, clearly missing something.
"You just said no intercourse," Samira clarified. "I assumed that meant no penetration of any kind."
"By him, sure," Walsh agreed with a shrug.
"Walsh!" Jack's voice was sharper this time but both women ignored him.
"I don't understand," Samira said slowly.
"You can still top him," Walsh offered, looking smug, but Samira was not less confused.
"Me on top is what got us into this mess."
"Not on top. Topping. Like you would...." Walsh trailed off. Samira's eyes went wide as Walsh's meaning set in. She turned to Jack who was glaring at Walsh.
Walsh, for her part, seemed unaffected. She just scoffed. "You two have been seeing each other for how long? Dancing around each other for years? Are you seriously under the impression that your ancient, army-veteran boyfriend has never bottomed?" she asked, incredulous.
"Em, I am begging you to get out of here." Jack's voice was more frantic than it had ever reached from pain.
Walsh just threw her arm's up in surrender. "Fine. I'll leave you two alone. But if you need strap tips...." A pillow promptly launched across the room, but Walsh ducked it as she exited.
Samira turned her attention to Jack, his face beet red. She picked up the pillow and tucked it behind his back. "Sorry about her," he murmured. "Bet you wish you'd picked Robby."
"That was still a hundred times better than Robby would have been," Samira smiled down at him, reaching down to run a hand through silver curls.
"My meanest lesbian friend offering to teach you how to use a strap-on on me is preferable to a dressing down from Robby for a little bit of public indecency?" Jack huffed out, clearly both amused and dubious.
"Literally, yes. Don't even have to think about it," she smiled back.
"I remain utterly perplexed by whatever yours and Robby's deal is," Jack answered.
Samira looked to where he was sitting in the bed and was reminded that she was the reason he was there, in pain, post-op in a hospital bed. She sighed. Jack must have seen the regret in her eyes and scootched to one side of the bed, opening his arms for her to join him.
She nestled in next to him, somewhat contented by the weight and warmth of her favorite person next to her.
"Is there a good way to say 'I'm sorry I broke your penis?'" she sighed and felt his chuckle against her body.
"Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart," he answered, resolute.
"I feel like there definitely is."
"Samira, honey, I was broken long before we got together. If anything, you're the one that put me back together," he answered, placing his index finger under her chin, turning her head to meet his eyes, green-flecked hazel and burning with sincerity.
"I love you," she breathed out barely more than a whisper, equal parts apology and declaration.
"I love you, too, baby. More than anything," he assured her.
"What do we do now?" she asked, busying herself with logistics, knowing that if she let her feel the enormity of what was brewing inside of her, she'd be inconsolable.
"Now, you go back down to the pitt and finish your shift. Em will discharge me tonight. Perks of having a doctor as a girlfriend," he answered, nudging Samira's shoulder with her own.
"I don't want to leave you," she argued, leaning her head into the space between his cheek and shoulder.
"Do you want to explain to Robby why you're clocking out?" he countered.
"Uggggghhhhh. I didn't think about the fact that he's going to have to know. Because of stupid scheduling. Stupid scheduling got us into this mess," she bemoaned.
"Go back to work," he encouraged. "I'll text Robby to come up here and explain. Maybe try to sweet talk him into letting you stay home with me for a few days. Really play up the need for in-home care."
His tone was a kind sort of teasing but Samira tried to put it out of her mind anyway. "Okay. Whatever you need, hon. Just ugh. If you could convince him to neither yell at me nor glare at me with thinly veiled disappointment, I will owe you forever," she agreed, standing from Jack's bed.
"Oh yeah?" he smirked, suddenly cheeky. "What do you think the best way to pay back that debt might be?"
"Easy there, cowboy," Samira chided with a laugh. "Four weeks, remember."
Jack rolled his eyes. "There are plenty of things you could do that don't require my erection."
"Apparently," she answered with a raised brow.
"Not what I meant," he shot back.
"So, you're not interested in....." she trailed off, just hoping to watch his freckled skin flush scarlet.
He raised his brows but his cheeks turned a delicate pink. "I mean, if you're offering....."
"Let's give it a week to heal then we can talk about it," she smiled, surprised by his honesty. She figured she'd push the limits of what good narcotics could get out of him. "I have to ask though, when you've...in the past. Was it with men or women?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You really want to know?"
"Yes," she answered resolutely.
"Yes," he echoed.
She had suspected but the confirmation was nice anyway. She reached into her phone to check the time and realized she'd been on this "consult" for nearly half an hour.
"And Robby?" she asked, hoping to be long gone before he made his way upstairs.
"Not in decades," Jack answered immediately.
Samira knew she must look like a deer in the headlights and Jack's expression in response was no better. "I meant—" she tried but had to take a deep breath. "I meant you'll talk to him. About taking time off. And me."
"Right. Yeah. Of course. I'll let you get uhhh—" he cut off. Clearly mortified. "I'll let you get back downstairs before I text him. I'll see you at 7?"
"Robby? Really?" she intoned, distressed but almost unwilling to leave without the answer, and unable to escape the feeling that all of her boyfriend's friendships were complicated and insane.
"We can talk about it tonight," he answered, his tone apologetic. "I love you. So much," he promised.
"I love you, too. I'm just not going to be able to look at my boss the same way ever again," she groaned, doing her best not to picture Jack and Robby together.
"I'm sorry," Jack assured her, pleading.
"Me too," she smiled back. "No more revelations today, okay?"
"Deal. Now, get out of here. I'll be fine and so will you," he promised.
She checked the clock on her phone again before hazarding one last glance at the man she loved. She'd see him again in six hours. After that, they had nothing but time.