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After the near fatal fire fight with Arasaka soldiers following the kidnapping of Hanako, V and Takemura take refuge together in a motel on the outskirts of Night City.
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“Then tell me the truth,” she says, watching Abbot’s eyes flick up to meet hers once more. There is a subtle lift of her chin and with the purse of his lips, Samira knows he sees the resolve in her eyes. “Why don’t you look at me?”
[post 2x07]
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But there is one piece of jewelry she can’t let go of that Amma had gifted her. A pair of anklets—payals—that Baba had gotten Amma when Samira was young, after he returned from a trip to India. He wasn’t much of a gift giver, but sometimes he would come through. Gold with small connecting chains, simple in the sense that there are no bells to clink together with every step. Amma wanted her to have one, while she kept the other. Samira’s hand shook when she had picked it up, holding her breath as she sat down, brought her knee up, and unclasped the payal to bring around her ankle. A perfect fit.
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“You know I love how you fuck me,” she started over, “but I think I want to try something… different.” Even intoxicated she still had to swallow her nerves to ask this of him.
Jack laughed. “Is that all, sweetheart? You had to get drunk to ask me to experiment in the bedroom? Whatever it is, you can tell me. You want to tie me up? You want to have sex in a car?”
“No, but I would be open to both,” she replied honestly. “But I want-” she took a breath, trying to find the words to articulate what she’s trying to say. “You’re always so… nice,” she started, “but I think I want you to be a little… mean?”
***
or: samira gets drunk and asks jack to be rougher in the bedroom. he delivers.
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“You’re the smartest person I know in every room—but if you think I’ll have to pretend to have feelings for you, pretend like I’m fucking thrilled you chose me, then I will get on my knees right now and remind you that pretending is not necessary.”
Her stomach bottoms out, lips parting as his words sink in. Heat spreads through her body as her eyes flicker between his eyes and lips, voice light in a daze when she murmurs, “That’s not a bad idea.”
The corner of Jack’s mouth curves up. “Your mom’s right outside.”
//
or, Samira and Jack don't have a moment to enjoy their morning after when her mother shows up unannounced.
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Abbot’s mouth has made it to the inside of her knee. Robby stares at him, wide-eyed.
“Robby?” Samira’s voice is pleading now.
His gaze snaps back to her, and his jaw sets. In a resigned voice, he sighs out, “Yeah, sweetheart. I like it.”
Or: Samira parent traps her attendings
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"Well, what's your poison, then?" Frank asks, angling his head in her direction.
"What?" Mel asks, mouth dry. All she can focus on right now is the line of Frank's jaw and the tendon in his neck—
"Y'know…" Frank waves his hand around in the air uselessly, "a weird sex thing you're into."
Or, Mel and Frank tell each other what they like in bed, as friends do. Somehow they end up trying those things out on each other.
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“Hey,” she whispered. “Guess you drew the short straw too?”
Frank managed a crooked grin. “I don’t know about that. Looks like you got the best seat in the house.”
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“Babies don’t understand morphine doses or O2 sats. They understand heartbeat. Warmth. Being wanted and loved.”
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Langdon was leaning back on his elbows, long legs stretched out, fiddling absently with something at the base of his throat. It took her a moment to realize what it was—the first necklace she’d given him, the matte black piece swinging gently against his scrub top as his fingers worried the edges.
He was sweetly holding onto it, like it was a lifeline. Something about the sight tugged at her heart.
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“You don’t know what you do to me. You don’t know how bad I’ve been wanting you.”
And God help her, she liked it. Loved hearing it. She liked the way he came undone for her, the way his body pressed harder, hungrier, like he was fighting for his life.
She wanted to feel him ruin himself for her just so she could be the only one to fix him.
Series
- Part 1 of Moral Code
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“I just know he’d talk you through it,” Emma interrupted matter-of-factly, a coy and proud smile taking place.
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“There—” she announces, but he’s just staring at her, and the scrutiny practically burns— “it’s off now. I was getting a lot of calls and it was distracting me but now it’s off, okay? I’m good.”
“Super good,” Abbot agrees flatly.
-OR-
When Abbot returns at 5pm, he immediately starts pestering Samira like something is wrong with her. But she's fine. Everything's fine. She just has to make it through two more hours, alone and unbothered. Abbot doesn't let her off that easy.
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"I know it's normal." His voice is sharp, suddenly. "I know all of this is normal. The stages of grief, the timeline, the— I've read the literature. I know what's supposed to happen. I just don't understand why knowing doesn't make it hurt less."
Linda sets down her pen. "Because grief isn't an intellectual exercise, Jack. You can't think your way through it. You have to feel it."
"I don't want to feel it."
"I know."
–
Jack's therapist watches as he rebuilds and finds Samira along the way.
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He can feel eyes on his back as they walk away. Mel reaches the curtain first and flicks it aside, her braid swinging between her shoulder blades. “Hi, Becca,” she says, voice softening in a way Frank has only ever heard her use with kids and trauma patients. “This is Dr. Langdon. He’ll be taking care of you.”
“You have really nice hair, Dr. Langdon,” Becca announces.
Frank blinks. Compliments, as a category, are not something he has been fielding a lot of lately. He feels himself flush, ridiculous and adolescent, like someone just told him they liked his sneakers in the high school hallway.
“Oh,” he says, and actually meets her eyes to make sure she sees he means it. “Thank you.”
He turns to Mel, grateful for something to do with his hands. “Mel, would you mind turning off the lights on your way out?”
There’s a tiny beat. Then her mouth does this small, precise curve that you’d miss if you didn’t know to look for it.
“Of course,” she says.
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Abbot comforts Samira after her panic attack.
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Clearly, God hates Taigen, and, clearly, he’s out of his mind. He won’t let himself beg, but if God is truly on Taigen’s side today, in this very moment, He will hear Taigen’s pleas and give him a sign.
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I set the fire, Mizu had confessed thickly into Taigen's ear, when their mouths were still filled with ash, eyes half-sealed with tears from acrid smoke.
Did you have a choice? Taigen had asked as a response, hauling them forward another step across a bridge, toward another life.
Mizu had fallen silent—so silent that Taigen lifted his chin in worry that he had drawn his final breath without Taigen's permission.
No, the not-samurai had told him then. I did not have a choice.
And Taigen believed it.
Fool.
+
Post season 1 canon divergence.
Taigen crosses the bridge to pursue happiness with Mizu instead.
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He becomes aware of his hands flexing in the air with the effort not to touch her. She notices as well, shifting with a small, watery sound. And he looks down just as she looks up at him and she's goddamn adorable. She has a nose that deserves to be kissed.
“What's wrong?” she asks him, and it's so absurd how big her heart is, he just wants to laugh. It must show on his face, because she peels herself from him, shrinking. “I'm sorry. I'm freaking you out.”
“You're not.”
“I'm sorry,” she says anyway.
He misses her already. “Stop that.”
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A newly separated Frank Langdon goes to the movies alone to take his mind off things on the eve of his return to the Pitt. He ends up spending the entire night with Mel King.
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He glanced at her in between each page turn. The passage of time, another breath in and out of her pouted mouth, a step closer to the end of whatever this was.
Abbot kissed her face again after that thought. Greedy and small. He needed her. A lifetime spent dodging addiction, through decades of temptation and goddamn good reasons to get numb, and he fell down this fucking rabbit hole of a woman in the span of a year. Not even, he reminded himself. Didn't even last a year.
Bad fucking idea, brother, he could hear Robby's voice now. Abbot excised him from his mind. He wasn't interested in being occupied by some fabrication of an equally fucked moral compass, when he had the flesh and blood real deal beside him. Her closed eyes and pretty nose pointing due north.
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The day after + a day in their life long after that.
Series
- Part 2 of y2k mohabbot