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Steam thickens the bathroom air as the water runs, filling the porcelain tub at a steady rate. Samira stands with her arms folded across her chest, eyebrows stitched together in thought, staring blankly at the water. The floor is cold under her bare feet, which ache from the double she just got pulled away from. She wants to be back at work. She wants to be there until she breaks. Until the skin of her hands crack from the constant washing, until her eyes burn and she’s exhausted enough to come home and sleep immediately, no chance for thoughts to build or memories to resurface.
Parker has other plans for her, like always. She pokes her head into the bathroom, checking on the water level but mostly checking on Samira, eyes glancing past her frozen posture before flicking right back. Samira doesn’t have to look at her to know that she’s raising a brow. “You mad?” She asks, amusement evident in her tone. Samira hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t respond. She doesn’t want the water to get too high. She can’t take her eyes off of it. “Mira, look at me.”
“I’m not mad,” she says, sparing a glance over at Parker who’s standing there, a small disbelieving smile on her face. Samira shifts her weight, awkward, before sitting down on the edge of the tub. Her foot bounces, restless. She sticks her hand under the faucet and focuses on the warmth of the water. “They were busy when we left.”
“It’s always busy there.”
“I could have helped.”
Parker doesn’t disagree; if anyone could have stayed in that emergency room for another six hours and helped, really helped, it was Samira. “I know you could’ve. But,” she says, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her as she drags out the last word. “You were there for a while. You needed a break.” As Parker speaks, she watches Samira’s shoulders bunch towards her ears, the crease in her brow tightening, the subtle bunching of her lips as she chews on the inside of her cheeks. Frustration rolls off of her like waves hitting shore.
Samira snorts. “Right. A break.” She can’t help the bitterness leaking into her tone. Why did she need to take a break when there were patients who needed help? Patients who, as far as she knows, are waiting to die in that hospital. Waiting to die just like- “Ow!” She hisses, ripping her hand back from the water to rub at her shoulder, glaring at Parker before her lips subconsciously tug into a light smile. “Did you seriously just pinch me?”
“You were off in fantasy land again.”
“I’m gonna bruise.”
“Oh, well, I’m very sorry, baby.” Parker replies with a dopey grin, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to Samira’s shoulder in apology. A few more kisses up her shoulder and neck follow until the warmth of her breath ghosts against Samira’s ear. “You stuck in that head of yours again, Mira?” As she whispers, her hands move to Samira’s shoulders, thumbs digging into the knots at the base of her neck. She doesn’t expect Samira to answer, not really; she knew that when she got like this, conversation was the last thing she wanted.
It’s been almost two years of living with Samira, and everyday something else that once surprised Parker turns into something she expects with a fondness she can’t quite remember feeling for anyone else. The way she sleeps, on her stomach with her arm under her pillow and her legs taking up as much room as possible, drool on the corner of her mouth went from amusing to endearing. The mess she leaves behind when she rushes in the morning went from annoying to a running joke amongst the two of them. The way she needed help but refused to ask for it went from frustrating to a chance for Parker to prove how she felt.
Closing her eyes, Samira lets herself focus on Parker’s hands. She focuses on how soft her girlfriend's skin is as Parker works her hand down to her back to her waist, fingers sliding against her stomach as she tugs Samira’s shirt off of her. For once - and this is how Parker knows she’s having a rough go of it - she doesn’t put up a fight, standing up off of the side of the tub when Parker urges her with a slight squeeze. She doesn’t open her eyes until Parker has stripped her bare, skin prickling from the exposure.
Parker cups Samira’s face, brushing her thumbs against her cheekbones as her eyes flutter open. Samira watches as her brown eyes, which can’t hide her emotions to save her life, sweep across her features and flicker in concern. She can only imagine what she looks like right now; dark circles and bags under her eyes, a dullness to her skin, her hair tangled from being up all day. Swallowing thickly, she lets herself rest her head against Parker’s hands like she was taking the weight of the world off her shoulders. The breath she lets out is heavy, her shoulder sagging slightly.
For a moment, Samira wonders if Parker will call her out, pull out her exposed wiring and try to figure out how to fix whatever the fuck was wrong with her. She knows well enough what lack of sleep and burnout can do to someone. She knows what she risks every time she pulls a double, each time she ignores her hunger cues and waits to take a drink until her tongue is dry, but she has never, not once, been able to make herself care.
And then she met Parker and she realized that killing herself slowly was a terrible way to go for someone like her, and that even if she didn’t care herself, she had someone in her corner who did.
“You want me to come in too?” Parker asks softly, tilting her head to the side as her voice cuts through the silence of the bathroom. “I’ll help you wash up?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know that.”
“I can do it myself.”
“I know you can, baby. But you don’t have to.” Parker tries to bite back her laugh, corner of her lips twitching upwards before she’s able to control herself. She settles instead for an amused, love-sick grin. “Just let me help you, okay?” She nods her chin towards the tub and Samira hesitates.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to. She really, really, really does; she wants to sink into the water with Parker behind her, feel her own body mold into hers, let her take over and take care of her and scrub away the last 24 hours. But one question keeps popping up in her head; what the hell did she do to deserve it?
“You worked just as long as me. I should be the one-”
“Samira, baby?”
“Yeah?”
“Just get in the tub, okay?” Parkers voice is gentle, but it leaves no room for argument. Taking a deep breath, Samira nods, turning and stepping into the warm water as Parker lets go of her face. She undresses behind her, tying up her locs before she steps in. “Let me help you, alright?”
The two of them sit down carefully, Parkers legs bracketing Samira’s body. She leans back with a small groan, feeling the sturdiness and warmth behind her. The water is warm, Parker is warm, and within seconds she feels the tension begin to ease from her body, starting at her feet and crawling up her legs to her back and finally to her shoulders.
The two of them stay there for a moment, Samira with her eyes closed and Parker’s chin resting on her shoulder. “Thank you,” Samira eventually says, voice quiet. Parker doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, she presses a small kiss to her neck, and reaches over to grab the washcloth and soap, and Samira knows that she’s going to be okay. As long as she had Parker, how could she be anything but?