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Baran runs into her former resident at a medical conference and decides to take Trinity up on her suggestion of spending the night together.
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Wanting Jack is the easy part. But should she have Jack is a question that slaps her out of nowhere, the lingering sting haunting every thought.
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“Thank you, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out effortlessly. So did the kiss he pressed to her forehead. Jack didn’t stop to think about the fact that they were still standing in the middle of the emergency department or that half the staff was currently watching him.
Samira caught his chin before he could get away and drew him back in, capturing his lips in a quick kiss. “You’re welcome. You ready to go?”
Or the PMTC finds out that Samira and Jack are dating when she picks him up
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She whimpers, the sound muffled just enough by Dana’s shoulder that she doesn’t slip fully into burning humiliation in front of her peers.
“Hm,” Dana hums, capturing her attention easily. The others’ focus shifts from Cassie’s red face to Dana’s no-doubt meanly amused one. “If you ladies would prefer it, I can take her inside and deal with her there. I know she can be… distracting when she gets like this.”
That hits her right between the legs. Fucking hell. She squirms and lets out little panting breaths that echo between the group and give away the heat rising quickly under her skin.
“I mean,” Trinity says slowly, almost hesitantly, “I’m not complaining. She’s a very pretty distraction.”
(aka, Cassie likes it when Dana tugs her leash in public)
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Garcia invites Santos to scrub in on surgery and then they bang in the parking lot
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Trinity goes out to rage scream her feelings out after a crappy day. When she gets home, she finds Garcia waiting for her.
Garcia has been crying.
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“You must be the new owner,” he says as he makes his way to the bottom of the stairs, reaching out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Jack, the upstairs tenant.”
Jack.
Ms. Hobbs had always referred to the upstairs tenant as Jackie. Samira was expecting a young woman, a vague picture of someone sweet and serious from Ms. Hobb’s descriptions. Not this man with thighs the size of tree trunks, blinking up at her curiously as he waits for her to respond.
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Samira’s fingers dug into Jack’s shoulders, her head throwing back as a loud, undone whine caught in her throat. The friction building to an unbearable, beautiful peak.
Beep beeeep. Beep beep.
The sharp and high pitched shriek of Jack’s pager shattered the room, echoing directly from the pocket of the crumpled pants twisted around his ankles.
The sharp, rhythmic shriek of the pager didn’t stop. It just kept piercing the heavy silence of the living room.
Jack froze inside her, his chest heaving, his eyes wide as the cold reality of the ER slammed back into his brain. “No,” he groaned against Samira’s neck, his forehead thudding into her shoulder. “No, no, no.”
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For a moment they just sat, holding the painful memory between the two of them. Baran breathed slow and purposeful, measured, practiced. Trinity felt a swell of pride. She was always impressed at her partner's ability to sit with her trauma, to keep the panic from taking the ground out from under her. Trinity was constantly taking notes.
After a moment of composing herself, Baran turned fully to face Trinity, bringing her legs up onto the couch pretzel-style to mirror Trinity's posture. She lifted a hand to cup the younger woman's cheek, gently brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.
"Sheereen-am, why are you awake? Did you have a nightmare? A flashback?"
OR
Trinity and Baran can't sleep. Together they process some trauma.
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Trinity can’t help herself. “So?” she asks, stepping closer. “Any apocalypse you’re trying to prevent?”
Samira looks back to Trinity only to give her a wry grin. Trinity is surprised before a laugh flutters from her chest.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Samira says.
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Her expression softens just a touch and Jack doesn’t think he can take it. He does not want solemnity or her gentle-eyed sympathy. Jack thinks, somewhat selfishly, that he wants her couch, the sharp back and forth, the wine, the fact that being near her didn’t feel like it costs something every time.
Jack thinks, somewhat selfishly, that he wants her.
***
(Or, Jack makes fun of Samira's tinder matches because he's secretly a jealous lil bitch)
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“I’m going to Jersey, not the North Pole.” A hum slipped past her lips as Jack snuck a kiss to the back of her neck, “You’re visiting me a month after the program starts.”
“A month is too long.”
“Fine,” Samira shifted on the bench to face him, slipping the shower wand into the metal hook on the wall, “what kind of list?”Jack has plans for Samira before her fellowship in Jersey.
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They agreed to keep it casual. Nights only, no mornings, and Garcia always has plans.
Or: the one where the trauma fellow gets diagnosed by the resident she’s sleeping with, in more ways than one.
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Trinity Santos can’t sleep. Well, she can, but only if she wants to wake up in a cold sweat or feel like the bed is falling from beneath her. Or have a barrel load of nightmares to go with it.
And she’s only just found her way back to Yolanda’s bed. The last thing she would want to do is ruin that.
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Trinity doesn't celebrate birthdays.
Yolanda doesn't take days off.
Somehow, on Trinity's birthday, both of those things become a little less true.
Series
- Part 1 of A collection of small things
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Victoria has (what she'll eventually realize is) an epiphany while crashing at Trinity's place.
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Dr. J's followers think something more than professional mentorship is going on between Victoria and Trinity, and the situation is exacerbated when they learn the two are roommates. Victoria's always been eager to please.
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Being with Baran is the most safe Trinity has ever felt. But some shadows haunting her even overcast this, her first healthy relationship.
And healing is a bitch.
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Cassie’s jaw tightened irrationally. “Victoria.”
Victoria finally glanced over. “Do you need something?” she asked sweetly. “Money? Somebody to sign you into a mental institution?”
Cassie forced herself not to react.
“Come on,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’re drunk. Let me get you home safely.”
Victoria laughed softly. “If you’re my idea of safety, I might as well hitchhike.”or,
Cassie tries really hard not to have sex with her girlfriend's daughter until she doesn't. -
so forgive me, love, if i cry all afternoon by perfectimprecision
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
19 Apr 2026
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Both Trinity and Mel are now onstage, a microphone stand in front of each woman. Yolanda is simultaneously sick with envy and excitement, regret and reverence, heartache and hankering.
“I want you to know,” Trinity drawls, each word distinct, like it stands on its own rather than forming part of a sentence. “That I’m happy for you.”
And with that alone, the weight of the song, the meaning of it—all at once, it hits Yolanda.