Streetlights stand tall at the edge of the sidewalk and despite the season flowers have started to sprout around their bases, seeds flung from the beaks of passing birds that find their homes in the gaps where metal meets concrete, kaleidoscopes of soft petals reaching up towards a sun that had long since laid to rest in the earlier hours of the evening.
Hazy warmth saturates the air, objects appear more like suggestions than physical things and you're barely able to see more than 20 feet in front of you as the streetlamps seem to use all of their energy focusing on the cracked asphalt at their feet, worn down after years of helping people traverse the neighborhood.
Children who rush past their parents, hair flying wild and arms flung open as they careen down the street, imagination working overtime while they pretend to be planes or spaceships or race car drivers; dreams too impossibly big to be contained in such small bodies and spilling out into the world around them.
Teenagers traipsing back and forth between their house and the moving van when summer starts to slip away, days spent laughing in the back of movie theaters and strolling through thrift stores giving way to jampacked class schedules and college textbooks stuffed with neon sticky notes, bright strips of paper that hold their futures in-between marked pages crumpling as they pack their childhoods into cardboard boxes, checking and rechecking their lists to make sure nothing gets left behind.
Old people leisurely ambling down the pathway, trading recipes passed along from their grandchildren or sharing secrets overhead in the produce section of the grocery store as they were sifting through vegetables; only going quiet when they're interrupted by the rattling of a larger-than-usual stone caught in the wheel of one of their bags.
Gusts of wind sprint through the street, racing each other like hunting dogs going in for the kill as they brush past the sides of your car, breeching through the sanctity of your scrub pants and pushing hundreds of tiny needles into the flesh of your thighs while goosebumps rise along your arms as you lean back against the hood of your car.
A quiet tingling sounds to your left and you watch while the neighbor's cat slowly creeps out from underneath a bench, swiveling its head from left to right before darting across the road and slinking into someone's garden.
Leaves crunch underfoot as you readjust yourself slightly, shades of red and yellow plucked from the branches that nurtured them and left to grow muddy and dull in the road.
Smoke tendrils curl upwards before melting into the dark sky, particles dispersing amongst the stars and suffusing the air around you with the faint smell of tobacco.
Moments continue to pass in near silence, Pittsburgh reduced to the occasional hum of tires spinning against asphalt and periodic inhales after your girlfriend takes a drag from her cigarette.
It's started to relax you on impulse. Muscles beginning to untense the second you see the familiar flash of white pulled from the charge nurse's pocket. Secondhand smoke becoming a soothing balm that works its way beneath your skin, settles in your bones and eases the tension from your limbs with every exhale from the older woman.
You remember after a few weeks of sneaking around, stolen moments spent in storage closets or pressing Dana up against the wall of the ambulance bay during her breaks for a short lived reprieve when you thought no one was looking, Cassie had pulled you into central 6 to ask if you'd started smoking.
She'd yanked the curtain closed behind her in a noble display of privacy, as if the flimsy plastic was going to do anything against an ER that thrives on being in everyone else's business, and spun on her heel to look at you with a furrowed brow and crossed arms.
"Well… have you?"
She'd purposefully left a gap between the edge of the curtain and the wall, small enough to trap you in the conversation but large enough that staff knew whatever was going on could be paused if the room was needed for a patient.
"Uh, no? Why would I- " Confusion slips into your voice as you return Cassie's question with one of your own, only to cut yourself off halfway through your sentence after letting your eyes drift from the R2's face to the parted plastic behind her.
From your current angle only a small section of the hub was visible, but it was enough for you to briefly notice Dana staring at the curtains with such intensity it was a wonder she hadn't burned holes through the material before her attention got stolen away by a puzzled med student thrusting a tablet in her direction when it dawned on you.
Burning paper and tobacco had started to linger around your form the same way it lingered around the charge nurse and now you had to confront the fact that neither you nor Dana had been as subtle as you thought you were being.
Somewhere in between your morning breakfast order expanding to include another sandwich, pushed gently into Dana's hands at the start of every shift, coffee cup with your last name scrawled across the cardboard in messy sharpie left by her computer at the nurses' station alongside a pile of protein bars to remind you both to eat and Dana's hands tugging at your belt loop whenever she needed your attention that had your head turning towards her even in the middle of other conversations, your coworkers had read between the lines, picked up on what was quite obviously a thing but that either of you refused to name.
There was one time she had called you over from the other side of the ED, brows pinched together and eyes narrowed as she looked down at the patient chart attached to her clipboard. You'd slid up behind her, sporting a soft grin that always accompanied the sound of her voice, pressed close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body even beneath the layers of clothing separating you.
Sweat and your shower gel clung to her skin, made your head go fuzzy enough that your hands instinctively came up to grip her waist as you read what's scribbled on the page in front of you; cacophony of hospital noise fading to a dull hum when her weight sunk further into you. Your fingers had automatically started rubbing circles into her hips, faintly creasing the fabric of her scrubs in your attempt to soothe her when someone coughed behind you. Loudly.
Your ministrations on her hips ceased almost immediately before your hands pulled away to hover just above her hips instead, as if that was somehow less strange than actively groping the charge nurse; commotion of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center flooding back with full force and reminding you that you were at work.
None of your co-workers were meant to know that you're dating, let alone watch you practically feel up your girlfriend in the middle of the ER.
But then the moment was over and a glare from Dana sent curious eyes hurrying back to their own tasks. On a quiet day there's not enough time to stop and stare, let alone on a day like that when there were patients practically spilling in through the windows.
The PTMC's ecosystem continued to function with only the occasional glance to where the charge nurse was cocooned in your arms while you mumbled into her ear about an error on the patient chart gripped between her hands.
Like predicted, word had spread fast around the ED and two days later a representative from HR was presenting you and Dana with relationship disclosure forms and informing you about a meeting that had been scheduled for later that week to discuss 'appropriate workplace conduct'.
You can feel your muscles sink even further into the cold metal, do nothing as your body turns docile against the acidic earthy smell that floats through the air and remains docile when it suddenly becomes much stronger, ardently burning its way up your nose as a long exhale is directed at your face.
It's gone almost as quickly as it appeared, silvery wisps evaporating to nothing and you lazily roll your head towards the woman beside you.
"Had to make sure you weren't falling asleep on me handsome." Dana's voice lilts teasingly around the words, corners of her lips pulling into an amused smirk that widens even further when you let out a low groan in protest.
Clearly you were wide awake.
You watch with half-lidded eyes as she moves from her place beside you and tucks herself between your spread legs, fabric letting out a quiet rustle when her limbs accidentally brush against yours.
She looked practically holy like this.
Stood between your legs looming over you, streetlamp perfectly positioned at her back for light to flare around her head like a halo. Molten warmth drips over her as smooth as honey, threads itself through her hair and glints off of the hoops in her ears, sticks to the shoulders of her ❪ your ❫ jacket and blurs across the dark leather as she steals another drag from her cigarette.
It takes everything in you not to fall to your knees then and there, a sudden need to drop onto the concrete and worship. To bruise yourself bloody as evidence of offerings made with lips, teeth and tongue. To listen as she guides you through the motions, a saint preaching to her choir.
Dana can feel your eyes on her while she exhales smoke into the air, head turned slightly further to the right than it was a moment ago so it misses your face this time, feels you watch her movements as she brings the cigarette back to her lips.
Your eyes immediately finds hers, skirt over her features until you lock onto the blue ones looking back at you and she can see the glow of the streetlights reflected in your gaze, such reverence in your expression it temporarily steals the oxygen from her lungs and leaves her scrambling.
"What's the staring for hmm?" Tenderness curls in her chest while she watches you blink slowly, eyelids moving in slow motion, fighting a loosing battle as you try to stay awake long enough to allow her this simple pleasure. "You want some?"
Your hands tuck themselves into her jacket in lieu of a response, moving through the gap in her zipper like a surgeon, steady with precision as they pull her further into you, inside lining warm from the impression of her body against the fabric as it brushes over your skin.
Being this close allows you to see the faint stain her lipstick leaves on the paper and you're suddenly very dizzy, fingers squeezing a fraction too hard at the flesh of her hips. She fits between your palms like they were made to hold her, like they were molded to shape of her body before you'd even met.
You tilt your head slightly further up, muscles in your neck shifting despite the strain of being hunched over patients all day and wait patiently, silently adore her while she takes another pull from her cigarette.
Embers glow pathetically at the cylinder's tip as she takes one final drag before her hand comes up to cup your jaw, tight enough for your brain to short-circuit thinking about the marks that her nails were definitely going to leave behind, holding you steady while she moves her face forward and blows smoke into your mouth.
Tobacco burns across your tongue and presses up behind your teeth until Dana pacifies it with her lips on yours, licking bitterness from inside your cheek and replacing it with the taste of cookies brought in by one of the med students after a sleepless night and break room coffee.
If anything was going to make you believe in soulmates it was this.
"Come on. Let's get you home sleeping beauty."
An exaggerated groan breaks free from your lips when Dana tugs on your hand, prompting you to drag your body from its resting place against the cold metal, briefly reaching down to pick up her bag from its position by your feet before rising to your full height.
Taking a step forward feels like pushing back against every force in the universe.
Exhaustion hit you like a tidal wave at the sight of your front door, flooding through your musculature and slipping into your bloodstream, mingling with the cells and platelets, infecting the plasma, racing through your veins until it can be felt in every outermost inch of your body.
Dana's hand is warm in yours as she pulls you along behind her like the obedient dog you are, fingers laced together and squeezing once in encouragement, a reminder that it won't be much longer until you can collapse into bed on top of her and hibernate like bears for the next three days.
Shoulders press closer with every step forward, overworked minds unable to distinguish where one of you ends and the other begins, jackets rustling every time your limbs knock together, a call and response known only to the two of you on the evenings when you're too tired to do anything but the bare minimum.
Dana gets there first, body stilling at the locked door whilst yours crowds behind her, heart flipping in her chest when your forehead slumps against her shoulder, chastising herself for behaving like a lovesick schoolgirl even after years of being on the receiving end of your soft touches.
Your arm pushes into the space between you, reaching for the keys attached onto your belt loop. A happy jingle sounding through the air and the shock of cold metal on the heat of your palm lets you know you've found them.
Hand extending past your girlfriend's hip, you slot the key into the lock and turn. Metal quickly folds on itself and a quiet click grants you access to a reprieve for the next 3 days.
The smell of home envelopes you instantly. Wraps itself around you as you follow Dana through the front door, almost stumbling into her with how close your body is to hers.
It's warmer in your apartment than it was outside -but only just- building stood still for hours with no one around to turn on the heating or pull blankets from the back of the couch when a chill started creeping into the air.
"Home sweet home." Dana mumbled as you shut the door behind you, slide the key into the lock for a second time and turn.
Lights are flicked on and the heating is cranked up as the pair of you begin to shed your outer layers.
You drop your bag onto the floor with a dull thud and then gently put Dana's bag down next to it, always more careful with her belongings than your own, wait as she slips your jacket from her shoulders and hang that up too.
It had been sunny when you walked into the ER, so sunny that Dana decided to forgo a jacket entirely while you threw yours on the backseat, listening to her teasing while you held the car door open for her and shoving it straight into your locker when you got to work.
But a passing comment from Parker during handover about it being colder than usual had you tucking her into your 'unnecessary' jacket after the day shift had been dismissed, smirk wiped off of your lips when your girlfriend kissed your cheek and then promptly spun on her heel, leaving you to chase after her.
Dana's ID card is the first thing to land on the sideboard, metal clip clattering onto the varnished wood with a small bounce and knocking into one of the picture frames littered across the surface from the force of her throw.
It's a picture of the pair of you crammed into a singular chair at a restaurant, Dennis and Robby, Parker and Samira, Abbot and Shen fill the seats around you, plates of pasta piled higher than the Eiffel Tower. Matching pink bands sat around everyone's wrists, a sign that you were part of the medical conference crowd looking to blow off steam after being packed into the events hall a few streets down.
Every charge nurse and attending that wasn't currently on shift at the PTMC was required to attend and clearly management could sense the storm brewing because the invitations arrived alongside plus ones and room reservations for a nice hotel to try and ease the annoyance of staff having to add this to their already packed schedules.
Robby was one of only two people actually looking at the camera, earthen brown eyes flickering with warmth as he stares down the lens, top buttons of his shirt undone and right arm slung over the shoulders of the boy next to him.
Dennis was facing the table, neck bent as if the weight of Robby's limb is enough to bowl him over, fingers following the wood grain and skin flushed red enough that the chef could easily confuse him for a tomato and try to drag him back to the kitchen.
Samira had her head turned over her shoulder while she speaks to someone just out of frame, candle light glinting off of her collarbones, one hand resting on the table as the other points to something on the other side of the room, painted lips moving like she's in the middle of explaining whatever it was that caught her attention, completely unaware of the woman staring at her side profile like they're the only two people in the room.
Parker was leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, hair pulled back to expose the gold bars scattered throughout her ears, glass of amber liquid clasped between her fingers as she watched Samira speak with the expression of someone who knows that they're well and truly fucked.
Abbot was on his feet, reaching across the table towards the napkin aka 'scoreboard' in front of his opponent, amusement in his eyes and wedding ring noticeably absent, easy grin on his face that showed the whites of his teeth after he beat John in another round of 'rock paper scissors'.
Shen had furrowed brows and pursed lips as he processed his third consecutive loss of the night, hands a blur in front of him as he gesticulated wildly, his shirt collar was crooked and there was a ridiculously large glass with several silly straws on his coaster, but there was enough space to see his foot linked with Abbot's chair leg.
Dana was pressed flush against you, intricate flower-shaped clasp pulling her hair away from her neck to reveal dark bite marks littered along her flesh, any semblance of professionalism held up with concealer and stern 'ah ah ahs' when you got too handsy discarded in the wake of soft hotel sheets and not technically being at work, light catching on her painted nails while she pushed her earring back into place and smirked at the camera.
Your arms were slung protectively around Dana's waist, one hand grasping her hip while the other gestured in front of you, legs spread wide to accommodate hers between them, tie ruffled, head titled upwards, lipstick smeared across your cheek, eyes glued to your girlfriend's side profile with a love-drunk grin splitting your face that could put Cupid to shame.
One chair was noticeably missing from the table, squirreled away by another patron while Dana had been in the bathroom, everyone only realizing what happened after they were already disappearing into the crowd with her chair in tow.
Your girlfriend had taken one look at the table when she got back and rolled her eyes before situating herself in your lap as if she owned it. Fortunately you were able to control yourself enough not to have a heart attack in the middle of dinner.
Her hands reach up and pull at the claw clip holding her hair back, carefully undoing it and running her fingers through the loose strands, before she drops it next to her ID card. There's a spare in her bag, alongside another spare in yours and one that got placed in your locker after a couple weeks of knowing her, but she likes having one by the door so she won't forget it.
Your keys shortly follow, rattling through the air and crashing onto the table with a loud thump that earns you a look from your girlfriend, head cocked to the side and lips pursed in a way that made you think she was reconsidering Abbot's suggestion of keeping you on for a double.
But when you shoot her a dopey smile as she's pulling pens out of her pockets, eyes flicking downward to watch as the plastic cylinders hit the wooden surface and roll a few centimeters sideways before pulling out your own pens and letting them gather alongside hers, she forgives you a thousand times over, would put up with you slamming your keys down everyday if it meant you came home and let your pens roll towards hers on the table.
An almost silence settles back into the air, only the sounds of your pockets being emptied echoing through the hall. Your wallet is added to the ever-growing pile forming on the console, alongside Dana's glasses and a protein bar that had been sitting in your pocket for the better part of your shift.
Maneuvering around you to the opposite side of the hallway, Dana listens to you pulling more things from your scrubs: gum, loose change for the vending machine, a tiny superhero figurine given to you by a peds patient as she tugs off her shoes before kissing you on the cheek and making her way towards the bathroom.
Abandoning your phone on the counter feels like a herculean task, torn between not wanting to miss something important and not wanting to be disturbed for the next 72 hours.
But no one can deny the relief that floods through your body as you tug off your own shoes and pad toward the bathroom after your girlfriend.
Dana walks into the kitchen, footsteps as soft and light as a jungle cat, feet protected from the hardwood floors by her fuzzy socks.
Cassie and Victoria had come over for movie night a number of weeks ago, and three-drinks-deep Victoria found the contrast between yours and your girlfriend's footsteps to be the funniest thing in the world. Even Cassie had cracked a smile, though you're pretty sure that had more to do with her girlfriend's unbridled joy than it did with the way you walk around your own house.
Rounding the counter to where you're standing in front of the fridge, she takes in your knitted eyebrows and folded arms as you stare at the shelves, appearing to be caught in a battle of wills with the dancing cartoon mascot grinning back at you from a half-empty jar of jelly.
Her arms circle your abdomen, hair that's still wet from the shower brushing your neck as she situates herself behind you.
She lets her hands slide beneath the material of your hoodie, scraping her nails up and down your happy trail once, twice, three times before slipping lower to toy with the waistband of your boxers, fingers mindlessly running across the fabric, occasionally dipping beneath the elastic to scratch at the skin of your hips, a self-soothing habit she picked up years ago.
"I got your glasses for you." Your hand gestures vaguely in the direction of the kitchen island and sure enough, there they are, folded neatly waiting for her.
She lets out a soft hum of recognition and pulls herself away from your back so she can reach over and grab them.
Something feels slightly different when she slips them onto her face, eyes flitting back and forth trying to figure it out until she notices.
You cleaned them for her.
Dana curls herself around you once more, presses a kiss to your covered shoulder in thanks as her fingers slip back down to the waistband of your boxers.
Both of you can see the abysmal state of your fridge, hear it softly thrumming as it proudly displays its contents; one shelf home a single protein bar and another housing a bowl of leftovers from two nights ago that neither of you had time to finish.
Goosebumps rise along your skin as Dana's breath fans over your neck, each small bump a reminder of how easily she can pull a reaction out of you by simply existing.
A defeated sigh passes through your lips and you let your head smack lightly against the side of the fridge door. "We seriously need to go grocery shopping."
You allow yourself to stew in resignation for another moment before pulling yourself together and closing the fridge door, clearly you weren't going to find anything to cook in there.
Dana thinks about it, thinks about you pushing the shopping cart, list in hand, looking for the specific kind of pasta that always gets served when you have people over for dinner, while she walks alongside you, hand tucked in your back pocket, leaning her head on your shoulder, waiting for you to realize you're in the wrong aisle and she almost suggests you go. Wrap up warm in your jackets and head out into the cold street armed only with your hunger to make decisions of what to get.
But then she thinks of the tiredness that clings to her body, staved off slightly by the water beating down on her shoulders, pulling her closer to the sweet release of sleep every minute."Could go tomorrow, don't have any plans in the morning."
"Sure sweetheart. That sounds great." Spinning around to face her makes you yearn to slow down time, bring it to a complete stop and turn it physical, tuck this moment into your wallet alongside twenty dollar bills and a crumpled post-it note with Emma's lunch order scrawled on it.
She's wearing one of your hoodies, sleeves slightly too long and bottom hem brushing over the waistband of boxers clearly stolen from your side of the dresser, ends of her hair still damp with leave in conditioner as she stares back at you through her glasses. Even the socks she's wearing are yours.
You have never been more sure that you were meant to love someone than you were right now. "Do any of the clothes you're wearing belong to you?"
A teasing grin starts to appear on her face as she takes a step forward, "It's not my fault your boxers are so comfortable," her arms tighten around your torso, “if you don't want to share you can just say so," she's so close you could individually count her eyelashes, "but that would be pretty hypocritical if you ask me, hmm?"
It takes you a moment for your brain to catch up. Too lost in the smell of laundry detergent and dryer sheets that clings to the material of her sweatshirt to realize what she's hinting at. Until something solid lightly rubs over your ankle and you turn your focus onto your feet.
Feet that are currently wearing Dana's socks.
You relent with your hands in the air, palms facing outwards and fingers spread so she knows you're serious. Pay your dues with a kiss pressed to her lips, her nose, her forehead before moving towards her neck and leaving little kisses along the line of a jaw until she laughs.
It slices through the near silence of the kitchen and sparks across your skin, sends butterflies fluttering through your stomach. Although you can't remember butterflies ever being this loud.
"C'mon loverboy," Dana softly tugs on the collar of your hoodie, pulling you away from her neck the same way someone guides a dog away from their favorite chew toy, "gotta get some food in you before you turn into a full blown grizzly bear."
She's gracious enough to let you get away with a final kiss to her lips as parting gift, nudging you towards the hallway to retrieve your discarded phone after you get too eager and try for another, waiting until your back is turned to let out a soft chuckle that only gets louder when your stomach growls for the second time in two minutes.
Takeout it is.
Everything is bathed in soft blue light, shadows flicker across the walls before disappearing back into the darkness seconds later while some poor soul gets brutally murdered on the screen in front of you.
It's so late that the only things currently airing were a low-budget 90's horror movie or the same cheesy sitcom marathon that they run every weekend, and even after a day of being pulled from trauma to trauma, watching someone get an axe to the foot was somehow still the better option.
A series of soft raps echo in the hallway and Dana's head whips in the direction of the sound, heart briefly stuttering in her chest with every knock against the wood until she blinks, remembers the sound of your voice as you ordered dinner.
It seems the combination of bone-deep exhaustion and 30 minutes of watching people get stalked through the woods by a masked killer has left her slightly more jumpy than usual.
Leather rustles at her side and Dana notices you getting up to answer the door, stroking your hand over her thigh in a comforting gesture as it follows the rest of your body into a standing position. Briefly pausing to lean over and place a kiss on her nose before continuing your journey towards the entryway.
You return a few moments later, takeout in one hand and Dana's glasses in the other.
The promise of hot food can be smelt in the air, spices mingling together and becoming more prominent the further into the living room you get.
A small wave of your hand gestures for Dana to stay seated when she moves to help you unpack everything. Handing over her glasses providing a momentary distraction as you pause to watch her slip them onto her head.
She rolls her eyes fondly, "I'm starting to think you might have a staring problem kid," hands reaching for the single container you managed to take out the bag before your attention was pulled elsewhere.
"I don't know what you're talking about." But your eyes had clung to the loose strands escaping the hold of her glasses too long for your claim to hold any weight and you finish unpacking the rest of the food in silence.
Time ticks by slowly, minutes melting into each other until the title card for the next movie is flashing on the screen.
A second pair of chopsticks breeches the carton of noodles in your hands, gently batting your own chopsticks to the side and starting to twirl, gathering noodles before retreating back from where they came.
You turn to your left and stare at the woman beside you, dressed in your clothes and curled into your side, head resting on your shoulder, glasses pushed up to keep her hair back, soft glow of the television catching on the lenses and making it seem like there were stars laced in between strands of blonde, absentmindedly letting her chopsticks float over her takeout container as she focuses on the screen in front of her.
Warmth spills from your chest, urging you forward until your lips are pressed against the top of Dana's head, stay there for a while so you can inhale the scent of vanilla clinging to her hair, temporarily untainted by the hand sanitizer and smoke that will already be clinging to her an hour into her shift and press a final kiss to her hairline before pulling away.
Yeah, if anything was going to make you believe in soulmates it was this.
