1 - 20 of 48 Works by AnyoftheKates
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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.
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If Jack had to pick a single word to describe his first date with Samira Mohan, he thought he'd probably land on painful.
A number of things contributed to the feeling. For one, it was rare that Jack found himself laced into a pair of dress shoes. The last time he'd worn these particular wingtips had been his wife's funeral. In hindsight, a first date and that morbid attachment to them should have prompted him to purchase a new pair of shoes. The memory combined with the constriction of black patent leather suffocating his left foot made him feel almost grateful for the missing right one. The tie around his neck was no better. He knew he wasn't actually being asphyxiated but God, did it feel like it.
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catch you in the trenches, coming to your senses by AnyoftheKates
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
10 Jun 2026
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"Are you listening to me or are you just going to keep staring daggers at the old man you're sleeping with on a date with the hot dayshift attending," Santos prompted, sounding equal parts irritated and sympathetic as she pulled Samira's attention back to their table.
Samira groaned, taking a sip of her tequila soda. It soured in her mouth, adding the unpleasant feeling in her stomach. She'd been twisted in knots since Abbot walked in ten minutes ago, smiling at her before taking a seat at the bar next to Baran Al-Hashimi.
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"Hey, babe, can you come in here a sec?" Samira called, leaning across the granite of the bathroom counter to take a closer look in the mirror.
Sure enough, a patch of grey hair poked through the curls at her left temple, straighter and wirier than the black ones around them. Well, a patch may have been over stating it. It was three grey hairs, but still. She'd never noticed them before. She was thirty-two. It certainly wasn't cause for alarm but she was still taken aback.
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More than one reasonably good-looking man had approached her, offering to buy her a drink and trying to discuss the presentation she'd given on social determinants of health. It was nice of them to offer, nicer still that her attending position at Presby had come with research funding, but discussing the paper she'd worked on for nearly a year with these men was merely an unwelcome distraction from her clandestine eavesdropping on her ex-boyfriend.
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tastes like medicine, but i'll take it (it'll do) by AnyoftheKates
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
19 May 2026
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For those unlucky enough to be from those mountains and also just plain unlucky, there have always been whispers. Cross Lanes, West Virginia, isn't even a town. The census just designates it as a place, which, if Jack thinks about it too hard, seems ominous, but he supposes ominous is probably the appropriate atmosphere for what he's looking to do.
There is a bar on the outskirts of Cross Lanes, a place where the unlucky can go to make a deal.
Crossroads Demon AU
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Robby was left standing, mouth agape. He almost couldn't fathom what had gotten into Mohan that emboldened her to flagrantly ignore him. Whatever it was, it seemed he'd have no choice but to follow her instruction and take it up with Abbot.
Dana interrupted his thoughts with a clearing of her throat. She crossed her arms in front of her. "You really are as dumb as you look sometimes."
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Right. Because sex was the reason they were driving through the quiet streets of Perry North. Sex. Then sleep. Then pancakes, they’d agreed. And though desire burned through her veins, so too did apprehension.
Emotions warred inside of Samira, embarrassment somewhat quieted, overwhelmed by other feelings, sadness for Jack that sex had been something in the past that he'd used to avoid feeling, jealousy of the people he'd been with, even if, by his own admission, it had been lacking. Not for the first time that day, insecurity overcame her as she realized the chasm between their experience. A fear surfaced that she, too, would be a disappointment for Jack.
sequel to magnet heart and sentimental boulder
Series
- Part 2 of no empty words
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That was the thing about Abbot. He seemed to have that kind of chemistry with everyone—always a joke ready to go, a flirty smile or a wink received with a laugh. He wasn't sleazy about it. It wasn't the kind of thing that warranted a note to HR. He was congenial to a fault, but much to Samira's dismay, he never seemed to direct that kind of flirting her direction.
It was for the best, probably. For all she knew, he had shrewdly intuited her less than professional feelings towards him and was trying not to make things harder on her. And it should have made it easier. The buzzing feeling that wracked her brain when he was around would certainly be exacerbated by suggestive comments, but something about the way her brain was wired had her wondering what was wrong with her that excepted her from his charm.
Series
- Part 1 of no empty words
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He'd gotten a text an hour into his shift from an EMS buddy. Your girl is at the scene of a 6 car pile up. She pulled over on the shoulder and crossed the freeway to help. Thought you'd want to know.
Jack couldn't blame the guy for not answering his panicked follow-up questions, clearly getting pulled into the trauma and chaos of a major wreck in the midst of a springtime downpour.
But it had been four hours, and all of his calls and texts to Samira had gone completely unanswered. He didn't know what hospital, if any she'd followed the EMS to, didn't know if she was okay. He'd gone out of his mind with panic—been in no state to treat anyone—so he called in a favor from Shen and asked to be relieved, racing home, in the hopes that Samira would be waiting for him there. He'd had no such luck.
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Samira knew that sleep was a precarious proposition for Jack. He required an extensive combination of psychotropic medications and vitamins, a regimen of stretching, of practiced breathing, and a bed made tight enough to double as a straight jacket—what Jack had explained as "sleep hygiene"—to override the damage to his amygdala and manage even a few hours of contiguous sleep. By his own admission, deviation from this carefully crafted routine was a recipe for insomnia.
So, as Samira pulled the covers down from the palatial bed to the floor in an effort to make the bed to Jack's precise specifications, the change in texture of the flat and fitted sheets as well as the pillowcases, silky instead of their usual worn flannel, took her by surprise.
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“Okay, hon, you’ve got to explain the weighted blanket thing to me,” Samira said, pulling a thinner chenille throw over her as she curled up next to Jack on his worn leather sectional.
“You need me to explain weighted blankets to you?” He asked dubiously, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her closer. Samira revelled in the feeling of his strong arms pressing her against his body. “It’s a blanket with beads in it so it’s heavy?”
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Jack Abbot was no stranger to the feeling of knuckles connecting with a mandible. He'd thrown enough punches as an unruly youth to know exactly how hard to jab to do the damage warranted.
Still, as his fist connected with the angled bone of Robby's jaw, a feeling of profound relief spread through his own body. Apparently, he'd been winding up to this for longer than he consciously knew.
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It had taken the nurses all of ten minutes to start gossiping about who they should set the locum attending up with. Jack hadn't been a practicing bisexual since the Clinton Administration but he couldn’t blame them.
Dr. Suresh Adithan was undeniably good-looking. Tousled onyx waves and a clean beard cropped short, wide kind eyes, rich dark skin, tall—over six feet at least—and a blinding smile all coalesced into a man who was almost certainly used to being noticed by women and probably men alike. Unfortunately for him, Samira Mohan rarely took notice of people not in her care.
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She'd only narrowly escaped bursting into tears when time of death was called. Robby pulled her aside later, reminded her that time was a resource, that she couldn't save everyone, that she had to stop taking things so personally.
She'd escaped through the automatic doors hoping that the cold morning air would shock her system back into rhythm but it didn't seem to be helping.
Jack must have seen her, coming in through the back for night shift, and didn't hesitate. He dropped his ever-present backpack onto the concrete beside her feet and enveloped her in his strong arms, wrapping them around her torso.
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Jack would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. The singular focus Samira directed towards her patients, the compassion and attention she seemed to have for every person that passed through her care–Jack was nearly certain that being on the receiving end of it would knock him on his ass.
The reality of it was not far from his daydreams.
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The flirting thing with Abbot had come easily. Jack Abbot was a known flirt. It didn't matter the person. Dana or Dr. Al or Myrna–Whitaker if he was really in the mood to make someone blush. He'd flash a crooked smile or a wink with a sly remark to anyone in his proximity.
So when Samira asked him over the hustle of the Pittfest MCI what else was in his go-bag and he'd just smiled and replied "Oh, just wait and see," the flirty tone had not surprised her, but the tug of intrigue in her stomach it had elicited caught her a bit off guard.
So the next time Abbot had asked in passing if she had any weekend plans, despite her intention to curl up in her bed with her laptop and refrain from human contact for forty-eight hours, she'd quipped back a coy, "Wouldn't you like to know, Abbot."
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It felt good to get back into the swing of things. He hadn't found what he was looking for on a motorcycle–hadn't really expected to if he was being honest. Something about intubations, guiding residents, running codes, avoiding Myrna–it all felt right.
Nevertheless, Robby couldn't escape the feeling that he was missing something. Shift drew to a close and he handed over his patients to Jack for the night, but Jack seemed different, too. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, and Robby caught his eyes wandering as though searching for someone.
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Jack had accepted that he was, in fact, a little pathetic where Samira Mohan was concerned. It didn't bother him, really. He'd known real love once before in his life–knew that, despite the jeering he'd often received from the men in his unit, there was nothing embarrassing about devotion. At least, there hadn't been the first time.
Still, he couldn't help but feel a little stupid sitting in a bar on his night off, surrounded by coworkers, only for the hope that Samira might make an appearance. It wasn't like anything was ever going to come of it–he'd also made his peace with that–but he didn't see the harm in brightening his nights with the prospect of seeing her.
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you were a miracle, i was just holding your space by AnyoftheKates
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
25 Jan 2026
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"Okay, so come home with me," he offered. Samira furrowed her brow in confusion. "I'm serious. I have a guest room. Great water pressure. A generator. A fridge full of food. Enough emergency supplies to survive nuclear fall out," he laid out.
"Why does that not surprise me," she asked with a roll of her eyes. "Aside from that being an insane idea on its face, if I go home with you, I'm gonna get stuck there for at least two days. Snow isn't supposed to stop any time soon. There's no way you want me invading your space for that long."
Curiously, a blush crept up his cheeks. He paused a moment. "If it means you're safe and warm, I'm sure I can live with it," he said dismissively.