Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Though the emergency room at the Mayo Clinic never fails to smell exactly like lemon industrial cleaner, the insides of your nostrils tingle with the scent of singed blood.

Kind of impossible for you not to be living in the fumes of someone else’s life after you’d just spent the past sixteen hours in an epic surgery at University of Chicago’s hospital. You were flown in to take every single organ out of a crushed man’s body cavity, fix them one by one, and put them all back in to save him.

You sweated out about fifteen pounds of water weight, one of the OR nurses threw up in her mask, two of their residents fainted, and the UChi attending assisting you cried when he couldn’t get the liver to fit. You just jammed it in there, threw a stitch, and it fit perfectly. So yeah, you’re kind of riding a high right now.

Your pen scrawls across the clipboard when a sly hand sneaks across your back. You glance up with a casual air to see Dr. Minho Choi, the surgeon who served as the second lead on that procedure, walking by behind you.

You lift the side of your mouth in a subdued hello because it’s not appropriate to greet the senior, double specialized trauma/cardio attending any other way. Even though he’s strolling along to the restricted zone with his scrub top half off, giving you a good look at his abs and his perfect eyebrow lifted in a greeting.

The nurses on the ER floor like to call him Dr. Choi, FHD, instead of MD - FHD serving as the abbreviation of Fucking Hot Doctor (which you’d agree with).

His equally as perfect mouth forms the unmistakable beckon, On-call room?

Your neck and your mouth and your body ache with the memory of what happened on the chartered private jet home from Chicago, and there is no other answer other than yes. You nod and lift your clipboard so he can see you’re about to finish the paperwork to send over to UChi’s trauma service, and he gives you one more flick of his eyebrows in gleeful anticipation.

Minho has been inspiring these shadowed bursts of heat across the inside of your chest wall ever since you since you started this mutual relationship a year ago. You don’t have feelings for him but you do… but you don’t… but you do. Sleeping together with someone for a year makes it impossible to stay as impartial as you’d like to be - you’re not dating, not yet, but you just click in a way you never have with anyone.

You’re going to go through it as fast as you can and leave the Chicago people to deal with it. Considering you were the one who did them a favor, it’s the least they should do–,

Unfortunately, being a surgeon for ten years means your senses are heightened to a freakish degree even out of the OR. So one peripheral glance is all it takes to notice this muscle-covered man hovering in your personal space. You wait to see if he’ll go away or if one of the receptionists will deal with him, but you get to the end of your sentence about a shattered kidney, and he’s still there. A sigh comes from deep in your chest, annoyed and ragged, and that doesn’t get him to go.

Without looking up, you scrawl your signature and huff, “I don’t treat athletes. Fourth floor.”

They come in droves - baseball, soccer, football, tennis, even fucking Nascar - to see if getting treated by a world renowned, double specialized trauma/general surgeon would somehow make them better at their sport. As if you could just break their ankles and rebuild them awesome ones when your specialty doesn’t remotely work like that. It never gets any less annoying and the requests don’t stop. You’re pretty sure this man is just more of the same.

No one looks like that and isn’t an athlete. 

The voice that comes out of him is so deep-toned and rich it doesn’t make sense that it’s also chirpy and happy at the same time, “How do you know I'm an athlete? I'm just Jaehyun!”

Holding in your groan, you glance up from your paperwork to see a very cute boy (man, you shouldn’t say boy just because he’s childish, he’s a handsome man) around your age. It's hard to not label him a boy though, since he's spun out of pure boyish goodness, with deep dimples in each of his cheeks and a sweeping mane of honey blonde hair. He looks like a puppy dog golden retriever and you’d say you’re firmly not a dog person.

You point your pen right at the football on his shirt. 

He peeks at the purple fabric in confusion and his mouth hangs open in surprise, like he hadn’t even realized that outline was there. He even laughs like a puppy too - cute giggles of hehe, rosy cheeks, and warm brown eyes disappearing into crescents of mirth by the crinkle of his nose. 

You’ve never been this unmoved by a sight in your life. Who cares.

He chuckles to himself for a second more, then wonders, “So, where’s the athlete line?,” before he holds out a hand and introduces himself properly, “I’m Jaehyun Jeong!”

“What?” you grunt, confused by what he’s talking about.

Are you supposed to know who he is?

Or once again, are you supposed to care?

This Jaehyun person doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, it makes him even more polite - to the point that you hear the twang of a country accent come out, “Can you please tell me where to go, ma’am?”

Ma’am hits your ear at a discordant note, when it has never once been used to address you in this place. You peek down at yourself in a similar way, spot the dress suit and heels you were forced to wear on the plane to present a professional image (which ended up getting ripped apart on the plane back), and realize this man called you ma’am because he’d mistaken you for a receptionist!

A receptionist!

You roll your eyes and hand off your papers to the real receptionist, then walk away into the restricted zone without dignifying Jaehyun with an answer. That is the ungainly attitude from men that you’re used to, they take one look at you and think you can’t possibly be anything more than a receptionist. The good thing about Minho is that he’s seen you in action, both A) literally, and B) figuratively, enough times that he has no choice but to respect you.

Heading straight to the on-call room with your bag that you retrieve from the nurse’s station, you get right to stripping out of this stiff suit. You step into your scrub pants as fast as you can, because judging from the time, that stupid conversation made you late. You hate being late, and most of all, you hate being late because of a man–,

As you’re putting your sports bra on, a familiar hand snakes across your back to hold your waist in a proper embrace, and the side of your neck blossoms under the kissing press of a coy mouth.

Okay, maybe not all the time.

That spot sizzles when your skin is scraped in the tiniest bite, then Minho’s hoarse timbre cascades goosebumps there right after, “I think I was hard the second we stepped out of surgery, you were so good,” and to prove his point, he melds his hips onto yours so you can feel the exact manifestation of his words.

Your hand comes to hold his face against your body, so he has no choice but to kiss up your neck and your collarbone and your ear and everything he can reach. You hum in response through the hazy bliss, “Really?”

You outdid him in that surgery, you know you did - he was fast but you were faster, he was precise but you walked the razor thin line of perfection. To the point the department heads that gathered to watch the surgery in the gallery kept joking at Minho’s expense that maybe he should go back to med school.

“I fucked you in the jet home,” Minho breathes against your cheek, “What do you think.”

He grabs your chin with deft precision of another kind and turns your face so he can meld his mouth to yours, in an aggravatingly hot kiss that makes his exact intentions known. It’s good that he’s being so obvious about his desire, because you saw how he bristled every time the department chiefs made you out to be better than him. You worried that maybe some of those comments were getting to him enough he’d want this to cool off.

But nope, he let you ride him on the quick flight home. And now he’s melding kiss after kiss against your mouth while you start to melt into his embrace, before he gets one hand up your scrub top as fast as he can to stroke you and try to pull it off—,

As much as you want to give in, you grab his hands and stop him, the denial reluctantly pealing, “No, no, I can’t. I said yes before I realized what was going on but I’m taking some interns part-time after their resident was fired.”

You haven’t had interns since you were a second year resident, and Chief Kwon let you run free without the responsibility of teaching. But after Hyunjin got fired last rotation, there weren’t enough (impossible) residents to go around for Dr. Moon or Dr. Zhang to take on a second set full time. And it’s not that you said yes without realizing, Chief Kwon asked you directly and you wouldn’t dare say no to her face.

“Ooohhhhhh,” Minho teases through a low breath as he squeezes your chest one last time then puts your shirt back into place. “They’re gonna get the speech?”

The real reason you didn’t have interns after that year is because you’re pretty confident the intern committee begged the chief to never have you teach again.

“Yes, can’t be in a sex coma for that.” This authoritative side of you dissipates into the unfamiliar, underdeveloped sheepishness that comes around him, and you tack on, “Maybe later? Wanna get dinner?”

The hangup here, the one snag that is the motivation behind the phrase we’re not dating yet…. is because you haven’t been on an actual date yet. You’ve had sex pretty much every day for the past year but can’t think of a time it’s made it out of the hospital.

You can’t articulate why you want this to happen so badly, but you do.

And as usual, Minho is noncommittal about it. He shrugs and takes off his shirt so he can get in the twin bed for a nap and yawns, “Maybe if I get out of surgery in time.”

What is it going to take, honestly? For a man who graduated from Harvard and then Harvard, you’d think he’d be able to read your intentions. You weren’t asking him to dinner so you could fuel up in between surgeries. But you try not to think much about it. It’s hard to commit with your schedule - you could tell him Thursday’s free and ninety-nine times out of a hundred you wouldn’t actually be free Thursday.

You just kiss Minho when he leans up for one and make a note in your work phone to come see him before he scrubs so you can actually have sex. And maybe the moments will catch in perfection - him, sleepy, you, assured - and you’ll get the date you wanted.

You grab your stethoscope and your ID, never putting on your white coat because there’s never time to take if off, and then you’re on the war path. The intern lounge in the ER is right around the corner, so you can hear the joyful ministrations coming from the inside. Nothing gives you more displeasure. You can’t expect a serious surgical pedigree to be built out of laughter. You certainly weren’t laughing when you were an intern, and look at you now.

One step in front of the open door and you don’t say anything or look inside, you just raise a hand and snap twice, and hear the immediate, running footsteps. You head towards the crossroads of the waiting room and the patient rooms and let out all of your frustration in your next sigh, so you can be blank and unemotional to accost your interns. And sure, you'll hold on to the hope that you might get a good crop of them by accident.

What you get is… two bean sprouts of boys in glasses and ties who look like they’re about fourteen, and a girl in a neat pressed dress wearing her hair in pigtails that can’t stop smiling in anxiety. Dr. Jaemin Na, Dr. Yi Zhou Ning, and Dr. Jeno Lee from right to left, shaking like baby chicks as they realize one by one, that they don’t get a full-time resident. They get a babysitter, and… you. They have to spend this rotation trying to impress the chief of the trauma department at the Mayo Clinic.

Lee must think he’s being subtle, because he doesn’t blink or look away from you while leaning in and audibly whispering to Ning, “I heard she bullied the other interns her year.”

So? What’s wrong with that?

You had the best grades, got the best surgeries, and were chief resident the next year. Who needed friends. None of your classmates are heads of their departments, and the interns you “bullied” in turn as a resident are all star residents of their own now. It’s a cycle and only the strong make it through. There’s no room for the weak.

Ning elbows him back to get him to shut up and she smiles at you, but the gritty denial through her teeth is one you hear loud and clear, “They call her Doc D, Doctor Doom for that exact reason! We’re doomed!”

Again, is that supposed to be a bad thing?

“It’s very nice to meet you, doctor.” Na decides to take the opposite route and kiss ass instead of using the infamous title and nickname that everyone else likes to.

He steps forward and extends his hand to you like a good little professional. You stare at him for a second, and then another, and it only takes ’til the count of three in your head for him to cower and back down.

All you have left is to queue the speech up.

“Shut up,” you snap at him and watch in great detail as all three of their lips glue shut. “Don’t ever talk to me, unless someone is dying and everyone else is dead!”

Ning starts to write bullets down in a spiral notepad she produces while Na stares and Lee looks like he’s about to shit himself. Good.

You raise your voice to keep their attention on you, “You know nothing, and the residents are who you should be asking for help. Not me! I was stuck with you! Your attending is your god and that makes me a step above God. Do not bother someone above God! Think of the consequences!”

You’re the one who chooses to keep snatching people out of the withered hands of death. It is an apt comparison.

They are shook up seeing you at your full glory not even five minutes into your working relationship. The fact that they all snap to attention and say, “Yes, doctor,” and stop before doom is exactly why you start with the speech every time. You don’t need them thinking you’ll take shit from literal children.

Out of your periphery, there is an unmistakeable flash of purple, and the rage is about to build thinking it’s a fourth intern that’s late on their first day in trauma…

And then you see that Jaehyun person from before.

Clearly having watched the whole thing, he’s got round irises in even rounder eyes, he’s never seen anything like that if his receptionist comment implied anything. The disgusted scoff maroons in your throat and you snap your fingers in front of his face to get him to stop staring. It makes you uncomfortable.

Jaehyun must not realize he’s doing it, because he blinks at the sound of the snap and warbles, “Ma’am?”

“It’s doctor,” you growl.

Who the hell does this dumbass athlete dude think he is?

Your title is right there on your fucking scrubs, M.D., F.A.C.S., Chief of Trauma Surgery. You’re not a fucking receptionist and you fucking worked for this, so he needs to use the title you earned, no exceptions.

“Doctor ma’am?” he amends, despite not showing a single sign of fear or intimidation. He nods at himself in a reward for getting it right, then gives you the same sweet smile. “Where do I go for you to see me–,”

“Sir, I am a board certified trauma surgeon in ten different countries.” You cut off his insane question before he asks it again, then get so angry you end up yelling at him right in the middle of the floor, “Unless your insides are being eviscerated right at this very moment, the sports medicine attendings are on the fourth floor, like I said!”

There’s a screeching moment of silence - where you see him counting one by one on his fingers to try and figure out what floor he’s on and how many he has to go to get there - and then ill-concealed snickering. Your hidden interns are laughing at him, and even though you were beyond annoyed by all his interruptions, the first rule of patient care is to never laugh at any patient.

“Move!” you scream at them, not holding any of your disdain and irritation back.

The three maggots clutch their stethoscopes in fear and scurry away down to the trauma lounge so that they can latch on to another resident to not get roasted by. You groan and turn back around to apologize on their behalf to that athlete boy - ugh, something you hate more than anything - and Jaehyun is running away down the other end of the hallway towards the stairs… like he thought your order was for him and not your employees.

He must really be a few cards short of a deck. Ew. Good riddance.

—

Yuta - your doorman and your favorite person in the whole world, considering seeing his face means you’re at home for once in your goddamn life - waves hard when he sees you.

He holds out his palm in a silent gesture asking, How many?

You flash him two fingers. Only two patients saved today, because the others were too far gone for your help.

Despite the reminder, he’s a sight for sore eyes after spending a grueling week at the hospital. Funny, that you live right across the street from Mayo - as in, you can see your apartment window from your office on the seventh floor - and this still happens.   

The waving and the smiling disappear pretty fast though, which means bad news is coming from him, “Well, don’t want to rain on your parade more, but while you were gone the other apartment on your floor was rented out! We had to move your surgical stuff.”

This building only has two apartments per floor and you thought the point of living in such an expensive building was that it was unlikely anyone else would be able to afford it. Management let you use that second apartment on the twenty-seventh floor as a makeshift OR to practice huge procedures in and now what? It’s just a place for someone to live in?!

The audacity.

“Oh, fuck off,” you grumble as goodnaturedly as you can, before you toss the plastic bag over at his desk and keep on going, “Here’s your vending machine snacks, you annoy me.”

Yuta doesn’t actually, though.

You’ve just been getting them for him every week since you moved in because he’s the only one who accommodates your crazy schedule, need for perpetual silence, and lack of security cams in the hallway of your floor. He makes sure you included a packet of Funyuns and trades you in return for your packages and your mail so you don’t have to wait in the mail room with the rest of the peasants.

You dream the entire twenty-seven floors in the elevator about passing the fuck out as soon as you get inside your house, and then the doors slide open and every one of those dreams dies a cold death. You’re going to have to have a chat with Yuta about this because you get onto your floor and you can hear music - Good god, is that Olivia Rodrigo?! The kids on your latest peds case could not stop listening to that drivel!

You already know this is not going to be good.

Not bothering to be polite, you walk over to the other apartment’s door, bang on it as loudly as possible, and then scream over the noise, “Turn that shit down, now!”

Shit, everyone in this place should know that you take priority. The people who live here are bankers and CEOs, imbeciles who work at desks and type at computers for eight hours a day and call it quits. You’re the one who just got out of a sixteen-hour long surgery, who didn’t eat, take a piss, drink water, or sit down. If this is the way things are starting with your new neighbors–,

“What did you say?!” Someone screams, after the music blasts even louder now that the door has been cracked open.

Fuck, you need a drink.

Despite preparing to give this idiot a piece of your mind, you end up make this strange, strangled choking noise instead when you see the athlete boy who was at the hospital at the beginning of the week. J… John… Jeff… Jay…. Jaehyun! Yeah, Jaehyun…. uh. Uh. yeah.

You take a moment because you’re not exactly used to seeing random naked bodies that aren’t from A) the patients you’re doing surgery on or, B) Minho in your bed. But he is indeed not wearing a shirt, giving you a look at his incredible body specimen, easy enough to study medicine off of. In fact, he’s wearing his purple gym shorts slung so low on his hips - he has pristine transverse abdominis, you have to admit - that you don’t even know how they’re still on his body.

You assume he’s there for a party because what else would all that raging noise be for. Because of that, you’re not going to ask nicely. You snap your fingers, gesture down in case he needs the visual aid, and order, “Tell your friends to turn off the music.”

Jaehyun reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone and turns the music off on it, saying with so much happiness, “Sorry, Olivia really speaks to me!” Your eardrums sear with the peace and quiet despite the rage that churns at the fact that he had the balls to play that weird popular music so loudly. He looks around the hallway and back into his apartment, then he wonders, “Who are you talking about?”

Is he being annoying on purpose? To keep his friends out of trouble?

“I don’t give a shit who’s throwing this party, it cannot be happening. It’s two in the fucking morning,” you growl, hoping he takes the hint and tells his fucking bros to chill out. Then maybe he can also pass along a message to the person who moved here that you have an important job that involves people’s lives, and you can’t be bothered like this. 

“Party? What party? There’s a party, where?” Jaehyun asks, standing on his tiptoes and looking up around where you’re standing as if a piñata and streamer-lit spread of alcohol would pop up out of nowhere. He looks back at you with slight disappointment before he shrugs and his dimples plunge into an impossible depth, “I just moved in so I don’t know how this apartment building gets down.”

And then he changes in an instant, smiling with expectation at you as if you’re the one gatekeeping the party he thinks the entire building is at.

“There’s…. no party….?” Jaehyun goes from smiling to sad at your confused clarification, and that makes you blurt, “You moved here….. Here? You?”

You can’t believe this dweeby, dumbass dude lives in the fanciest building in Minneapolis… on the floor you, lest you repeat!, thought you were going to occupy alone since no one else could afford it!

Jaehyun smiles and nods. “Yep! My team paid for it!”

“Your team?” Please don’t tell me that he’s one of those people on that weird Tick and Tock app. You cannot handle that.

“I’m an athlete, I thought you knew!” He giggles in the same hehe tone, and then he proudly announces, “I play football, I'm a wide receiver.”

You’re about ninety-nine percent sure that 'playing football' means he plays those football video games and just has rich parents that fund him living in this kind of apartment.

You sigh again, because if his parents are paying for this, then he most likely has no idea how to live in a real adult apartment that isn’t somewhere he gets coddled. Even though you want to be rude as hell about it, you do give your best attempt at not being condescending, “I get that you’ve probably never lived on your own before—,”

Jaehyun interrupts you and corrects, “Yeah, I have!,” yet doesn’t sound mad or mean about it, “I’ve been living on my own since I was twenty.” He takes a moment and looks down into his broad, calloused hands, some of the finest fingers you’ve ever seen on a man from an objective standpoint, and starts to count them out one by one. Once he’s hits all ten fingers he shows you, “I’m thirty, so I’ve been living on my own for ten years!”

You hope your face stays neutral and hints at none of your internal thoughts, Wow, this is the dumbest adult man I’ve ever met. How is he older than me by an entire year? Now you have no idea how you’re supposed to treat this person who is your peer but does not feel like it.

You repeat yourself a little less harshly, “I was serious about the music, I am….”

He interrupts you for the second time in a row to show off what he’d remembered from your conversation that you’d forgotten, “A board certified trauma surgeon in ten different countries! Which is awesome, what countries?”

It’s a pretty sensational story, you’ve done numerous procedures of increasingly complicated difficulties in some harrowing conditions, many of which required you to take a licensing exam to practice medicine abroad. But…. you literally could not care less about making small talk with this annoying man who’s annoyed you into having an annoying night.

“That just means I have an absolutely insane schedule,” you say in lieu of an answer and take this opportunity to lay down the law so Jaehyun knows exactly who takes priority here. “When I'm home, that is an important and rare private time for me that I need peace and quiet in. Do not blast your music, do not do anything loud, do not do anything that I can hear through these walls, including drugs or sex.” Jaehyun’s face goes pink in the blink of an eye - you’ve never seen anyone experience erythema that quickly - and you realize you may have overstepped just a bit. So you backtrack, “I mean, you can do them, but I cannot hear.”

You have no doubt some wild shit is going to go down in there, and you will be better off not knowing. What you won’t know won’t hurt you, but what you hear will.

Jaehyun bows, then salutes you with a crisp bend of his arm and obliges, “Yes, doctor ma’am!”

You can’t tell if his tone is mocking you or if he says it because he’s not trying to be rude. And leaving off the ma’am is rude to him somehow? Judging from the southern twang you keep picking up, that must be somewhat of a habit.

You roll your eyes when he’s not looking and stick your key into the lock of your door, hoping that your message got through that beautiful mane of blonde hair into the unfortunately thick skull.

“Bye!” he chirps, loudly and happily, and then catches himself and whispers it as low as he can go, “Bye!”

And, okay, maaaaybe you slam the door on him a little to make sure he knows that you aren’t to be messed with.

Then you go to your room and collapse face-first in bed as you always do before you have to stand in the shower. You brace yourself for the worst, for Olivia’s trite lyrics to barrel across the hallway and seep into your silent bedroom, and they…. don’t. The music doesn’t go back on. And when you wake up an indeterminate amount of time later, starving down to your bones and beyond put off at the world, the music is still nowhere to be heard.

—

Ning’s jaw falls open for maybe the fiftieth time today as you laugh happily with your patient, an old lady you took a kidney and part of her intestine out of. You let her tug your French braids just so she can see the detailing of how you parted the strands.

That followed A) fairytale story time with the young boy that came in with a piece of wood through his collarbone, B) laughing at childhood photos with the man that got fucked up in a bike crash, and C) tasting the snickerdoodles made by a different old grandma that fell in her house.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that you’re nice to your patients.

You have the most patience for them out of any insipid person that comes into your hospital because about ninety-nine percent of the time the reason they end up there is not their fault. The dumb cases where people are stupid on purpose are pawned off to other attendings (unless! it’s a case that will boost your resume). Don’t even get you started on the dumb kids doing skateboard tricks and breaking their arms - if you won’t get a surgery out of it, you won’t bother.

Now that the grandma is all soft and happy at the sight of your hair, you feel like you can push up the seams of her gown and check her incision—,

“Doc D, Doc D!”

It’s only because of your reflexes that you don’t rip this poor woman’s stitches out when the rest of your interns come barreling into the room, screaming at the top of their lungs. You turn your deep-set hearing on, check for the sound of a code or an EKG going silent down the rest of hall and find nothing, quickly replaced by the roar of simmered anger.

You place the bandage back down and give her a reassuring smile so she doesn’t worry over what just happened, then you pull the curtain back and close the door so she doesn’t have to watch or hear you give them a reaming.

They’re standing in a row in front of you, not expecting anything, and then all of a sudden, you’re screaming at them, “I just spent eight hours in surgery giving that lady more years with her grandkids, do not fucking undo it! Lower your tone!”

It’s ironic that you’re screaming at them in return, sure, but they don’t have someone’s abdomen in their hands at the moment.

The cowardly trio of maggots glance at each other, and then Na - the one who tries to kiss ass and be brash at the same time - clears his throat and requests politely, “We wanted to go to the gallery and watch Dr. Choi’s surgery! He has someone impaled on a tree waiting!”

They go gleeful with the idea of what they might witness.

God damn it, Minho has someone impaled on a tree and you’re here checking on a (sorry!) withered old lady?! Just because you gave up patrolling the ER to do the rest of your job?

“No,” you snap, and when their faces fall fast, it somehow makes you even angrier, “This isn’t watching Netflix and having something to gossip about, that’s a very real person close to death on his table! Not to mention you have jobs—,”

The pristine sound of a throat clearing is enough to slice through the tides of your ire, and you see Chief Kwon there with Minho in his scrubs and his soccer ball scrub cap. No doubt the two of them were about to head to the OR and then overheard your tirade - she does not look happy, which ugh. Damn it, maybe you could’ve used a cooler tone. Minho raises an eyebrow and lets a corner of his mouth turn up in a laugh, knowing you’re going to get in trouble.

“Go,” you grit lowly, because anything other than caving would get you more in trouble. NaLeeNing glance at each other in surprise and you’re annoyed that they don’t follow your orders, so you snap a second time and risk the wrath, “Go! And if I don’t see you outside my office charting the minute Dr. Choi closes, you’re never going to watch another surgery here again!”

They finally get the hint and scurry away as fast as they can, shooting grateful looks towards Chief Kwon and Minho - as if they were the ones who gave them permission, not you. That means you’re going to make the window of opportunity even tighter. The second Minho ties his last stitch is the second you start the countdown, and you’re going to time it for sure.

Chief Kwon waits for you hang up the chart tablet before she scolds you in the warm, moving tone she always speaks in no matter the issue - because she’s just that nice, “You have to nurture the baby chicks. Isn’t that what happened with you?”

“I was barely twenty and got yelled at every day, look how I turned out,” you deadpan in return.

The old chief of trauma reamed your ass on the daily and you never folded. You ended up being just like him when you were given your first set of interns as a resident, and you figured that was the only reason why he decided to name you his replacement when he retired earlier this year.

That’s not the answer Chief Kwon wants. She shakes her head in disapproval and warns, “I’m going to be watching you now,” which only makes Minho chuckle harder.

She’s always watching, though, and you don’t care. There’s nothing she could do to fire you or stop you from doing surgery, which means you’re going to keep being mean—,

“The Vikings asked for a doctor from Mayo to do their general wellness and concussion lecture before the season starts.” She waves her hands around in a flourish and points right to you, announcing, “You’re it!”

Minho can’t hold in his laughter this time, he barks out loud in a gasping burst of hilarity, and even Chief Kwon’s mouth twitches with amusement.

“No way!” you protest, “I do not do that! I didn’t even have to do that when I was an resident! I'm literally a department head!”

They could not pay you enough to go over to Twin Cities Orthopedics and drone in front of a packed room of idiotic ball players that they shouldn’t bash other idiotic ball players in the heads… otherwise they’ll become even more idiotic. Concussions and head trauma are three steps on the pyramid lower than you are, to the point that a nurse could do it, honestly. It’s the shortest of short straws and you cannot believe she is foisting this onto you as a punishment.

“Maybe be nicer to your interns?” Minho drawls, earning him a scoff from your chief and a strangled growl of dislike from you.

You hope he doesn't think you're going to fuck him when he’s out of surgery, not after what he just said.

The chief's minimal entertainment disappears when she looks between you and your secret lover with the utmost serious, chiefly intimidation and reminds you both, “I don’t think I have to say again that the president’s team is searching the country’s top hospitals for the next Surgeon General.”

Being the 'Nation’s Doctor' would be the promotion necessary to never have to give the concussion lecture to football players ever again. Or perhaps you just like the ego boost of being called the Nation’s Doctor and the power of making decisions for everyone, you don’t know.

When you heard last month that your name was being floated around for the position, you set your sights on that goal. There would be no one better to fill it after the pedigree you built as the chief of trauma, coupled with an extensive stint in preventing traumatic incidents in public healthcare you did while you were a resident (ironic, considering your initiatives were designed to prevent your career’s bread and butter). Sure, it would require you taking a step back from surgery and taking on more responsibilities to help the general public, but there’s pretty much nowhere you can go that’s higher than that - except for chief of surgery here, and Kwon’s not leaving.

The OR would always be waiting, but this opportunity wouldn’t be.

Unfortunately, though, you’re sleeping with a man who shares the same kind of brain as you. And thus, the same kind of goal.

“Maybe instead of laughing or yelling, you both should be putting in work in the OR and volunteering,” she says wisely before she heads to the gallery, wagging a finger and knowing full well she’s stirred the pot hard.

Minho starts running. He turns and he goes right to the elevator that will take him to the surgical floor while hollering,  “I’m literally taking a tree out of a man! Beat that, Doc D!”

You don’t need a fucking tree.

You’re confident in what you can do. You’ve been a surgeon for ten years, you’re the head of your department, and you’re the one with the Doc D nickname for a reason.

So…… behind his back, you schedule yourself as the lead surgeon for all the extra trauma surgeries that bleed into general for the next month. You tell Wendy the charge nurse that you’re the only one with privileges to change it. Take that.

—

You’re running on a combination of untouchable exhilaration and crushing exhaustion after this insane forty-eight hour shift, one that involved eight different surgeries (thanks, sneaky schedule!) and three cases that didn’t get to surgeries. You can’t decide if you want to A) run through a wall or, B) run into it and pass out—, when you run smack into a person coming onto the elevator while you’re getting off of it.

Even though there’s no way they don’t see you, the person hollers in fear at the top of their lungs, a melodic yet painful noise. Yet you don’t move or react - insane screams like that are so commonplace to your job that they don’t bother you anymore. The only surprising thing is the person that let out that close to girlish scream was your hulking, muscle-y neighbor. Jaehyun is there with his same wide eyes and massive duffle bag clutched in his hands, the bag covering up his bare torso where he’s once again shirtless, save for another pair of purple gym shorts.

It takes a second to process the fact that he’s shirtless at four in the morning, and then you blurt, “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

He squints at you through the haze of his fear, and he warbles, “Doctor ma’am? What are you doing up at at this time of day?!”

“I had surgery for sixteen hours after being on call for two days, this is normal.” Through the confusion of him being confused, you’re not used to having explain yourself and your weird schedule, “I guess partying until four is normal for you?”

You’ve run into him at crazy hours twice now, and both times he was shirtless and listening to insane music, and now he's carrying a bag that surely has alcohol in it - it’s a huge bag! What else would he need it for?! Damn, for someone who just moved here he already has quite the social life.

Jaehyun scratches his head and wonders out loud, “Why are there so many parties I'm not invited to?” His dimples stick out again as he gets more perturbed by the predicament that he’s in, and then he asks with such earnest curiosity, “Is there a Minnesota text list or something? I'm from Georgia, so I wouldn’t know!”

What on earth is he talking about?

“Aren’t you coming from a night out?” you repeat your question, gesturing to his… his everything in the hopes that you won’t have to explain yourself.

His mouth forms the roundest o, and then a lightbulb goes off over his head. He holds up his bag for you to see it has a football stitched on the side… and there certainly are no clinks of alcohol bottles that offset his clarification, “I just got up for a workout!”

That is so fucking bizarre to you. A workout at four in the morning? If you didn’t have to be up for surgery, you’d be gone to the world at this hour every day possible. Your feet feel like they’re going to fall off.

He waves a hand in front of your eyes to get your attention again, so he can get all solemn and serious for his next question, “How does a sixteen hour surgery work? How can you even be awake for that long?”

“Jaehyun,” you sigh, from a deep part of you that longs to be annoyed yet is somehow finding it more amusing than anything. You just shake your head and get it together to drone out the only slightly sarcastic response, “If you sleep for eight hours a day you’re awake for sixteen hours straight.”

You can literally see the gears grinding in his brain as he tries to do the math.

“Oh!” Jaehyun bursts out in a note of melodic accomplishment when he puts it together without his fingers or your help. He smiles from ear to ear at you, dimples shining in place of the sun that hasn’t come up yet, and he says, “Still, that’s awesome and not surprising! Go you! Have a nice nap!”

Ha. You wish life was as innocent as he sees it.

You have no idea why you feel the need to clarify, maybe just so he knows that you aren’t frivolously deciding to sleep like a normal person, “It’s not going to be a nap. I’m going to get up again at four in the morning tomorrow, turn into this rage monster totally hungover from exhaustion, and want to eat everything greasy and awful possible. This is how it always works.”

You become an insane creature after a call shift with no sleep, worse than usual. It starts with twenty-four hours straight unconscious and it almost always ends with you tearing apart your entire kitchen and eating everything in sight as your body works to replace the calories that you leeched out after intense concentration and purposeful fasting. Then, of course, all the sugar and fats give you an even bigger headache since you can’t resist the shittiest of shitty foods, and then you guzzle water, and that gives you a stomachache.

You’ve been doing this for years now and you’ve never learned your lesson. It’s not just a nap.

“Cool!” He seems so carefree as the elevator arrives, before he gets in and then stops the doors from closing to announce, “I low key love hash browns!”

Okay?

You watch Jaehyun wave at you, with a twisted laugh of confusion lodged in your throat, and then your instincts take over to move on and complete the rest of your routine uninterrupted. Go inside, throw your keys and phones down on the floor since you don’t bother to bring a bag, take the shortest, coldest shower, and then pass out without a second thought, dream, or inhale.

—

And sure enough, you wake up the next morning with a crushing migraine between the eyebrows.

Your alarm clock says that it’s indeed close to five am the next morning and you feel like you’ve gotten hit by a bus. Despite that, you spring off the bed in a rehearsed typhoon of fury, and hit the kitchen as fast as you can when the hanger and tiredness come. Drips of loneliness, too.

(Not that you’d admit it, but it feels weird to continually go through this by yourself… because it would be nice for someone to help you, to have food ready and waiting with perhaps a kiss or two upon you waking up.)

You go and get the newspaper for the crossword to wake your brain up before the food coma you’re going to put yourself into… and there’s a plastic bag hanging on the handle of your apartment door. Anthrax is your first thought and then you remember Yuta would never let that happen to you. So, you grab the bag and upon finding that it’s still warm, your second thought is that someone has left you a literal organ outside of the hospital.

Never would you expect to look inside and find a McGriddle waiting for you, steaming hot and with a matching hash brown to boot. There’s a napkin stuck to it using the sticker they put the receipt on with, and in surprisingly neat, curvy, handwriting, you read the note that says, Good morning! Hope the rage monster goes back to sleep!

Right under it is the cutest smiley face you’ve ever seen in your life - two tiny dots for eyes and a huge, looping swirl of a smile, with each side of the swirl hugged by the sweet addition of a drawn-on dimple.

Huh.

You crush the sandwich in about two point five seconds, and your headache doesn’t hurt as bad.

—

At the end of the next week you’re finishing up another seventy-two hour call, and by finishing you mean you’re in the on-call room and Minho is laying his body on top of yours. He holds your chin and licks your mouth straight into a soul-searing kiss that you eagerly soak up. You came in here to sleep and instead wasted half of your precious your free time having sex - not a true waste considering how good it felt - and now he’s still not letting you sleep.

That means the pricks of feeling in your stomach are not from his hand sneaking into the waistband of your scrubs, it’s from unending… hunger.

You kiss him one more time, a bit softer and more enticing than usual, and then you whine, “Wanna go get greasy breakfast sandwiches?”

That McGriddle has - as your young teen patients have liked to say recently - lived rent free in your head since you ate it. You wouldn’t mind putting on your scrubs and sitting here with Minho, legs braided together, just sharing a meal together.

He looks at you with such a curious expression. You can’t tell if it’s lust, disgust, or confusion, so you trail your hand up his abs and wonder cutely, “Or better yet, get me one? Because I have surgery with Do in half an hour and you don’t have one until ten?”

You looked up his schedule just to see if you’d have this break between surgeries and he does have enough time to go out and do something nice for you - after all the nice things you just let him do. Not to mention that you have an assist with Dr. Do, the very serious chief of general surgery, which means you’re going to have to play nice for at least ten hours. A greasy sandwich would help your mood.

“How’d you pull that one off?” Minho stops the lusty motions to ask after that detail - more like interrogate you, considering how obvious his annoyance is that you got a surgery with the elusive chief. “Are you shuffling attendings around and not telling me?”

Does he forget you’re cross-specialized, too?

Never mind, you don’t want to argue. You’re too sleepy and fucked out and hungry.

“Let’s go get food, pleaseeeee?” You get all girly and pleading, despite usually just demanding what you want.

This is the only time you get like this, silly in the logical head and in the unemotional heart. When you’re around someone you like, it’s hard not to. You’ve liked Minho for so long, the more you try to hide these feelings, the stronger they get. It’s the quintessential negative feedback loop. You hate that your mind sees itself as being rational and decides to like him more.

“I’d rather have sex now, sleeping next to you got me so hard,” he lazes out in his enticing timbre, teeth snipping at your earlobe with the intention of making you ignore the decidedly unprofessional way he refers to this.

Ugh, fine.

Sex it is, but he best be assured that you’re going to be thinking about a McGriddle the whole—,

Okay, no, you really don’t. It’s hard to think about breakfast when the man that you’ve had feelings for for a year is kissing your mouth and slicking his tongue right by yours and holding your neck in his firm, steady hands as he peels your underwear off again.

Having sex with him is too good because it encompasses the only moments in the day where you can turn off your brain and who you are and sink into the notion that this person is the only one who exists to you. You don’t have to think or be powerful or do anything other than let him touch you, let him slip inside you and move with aching precision, let him kiss your mouth and swear that you’re the fucking best, dollface.

After you make him finish so hard he sinks into the pillows with his eyes all the way blacked out into nothingness, you get off on the high of knowing that here at the hospital, you’ve been the only one he seeks out for this.

You keep tabs on the gossip on purpose. You’re the only one.

You’re in a better mood when you leave the on-call room, for obvious reasons, so you let NaLeeNing skip with their rounds with Moon to they can watch watch your surgery with Do. But... you’re so starving you demand the overnight oats Ning hides in her white coat pocket as her gallery snack. She doesn’t argue and hands over the spoon, too, not risking the punishment. You shove it down your gullet in about two bites and it does nothing to dull the hunger, which means the whole time you’re stapling an absolutely shredded stomach back together, you just imagine it’s a McGriddle instead.

—

Having to give a lecture at football camp… sorry, Vikings camp (you were told very specifically by the receptionist here at the practice facility that it’s not just a “football camp”) is the worst thing you can think of.

You’re going to list out why - and to give yourself a handicap for fun, you’re not even going to list because you had to hand off a surgery to the newest trauma attending that you always forget the name of. You could’ve finished the procedure in an hour if they’d just let you push back the lecture, but Head Coach Kim apparently 'insisted' you be on time, something about drills or what the fuck ever…

Anyways, the list:

A) you have to be around men
B) you have to be around lots of men
C) you don’t give a shit about football,

and…

[10:25 am] MC: don’t faint off jockstrap fumes ;)
[10:25 am] MC: can’t give u mouth to mouth when im in the or

D) you have to read that jejune series of texts from Minho as you’re brought outside of a lecture hall that smells like pure testosterone… and sounds like it, if possible. You’re basing that on the guttural and groaning exclamations of inappropriate, manly drivel - bikini models and something called bootleg plays and my god, approximately three different conversations about beer.

You’re going to kill him for those, and no, you won’t fix him afterwards.

Safe to assume the person who comes up to you with COACH stitched on his windbreaker is the head coach of the team, so you don’t bother to listen to his name or his introduction. You let it fall to the wayside as you deliberate through how close you’re going to have to cut things here in order to make it back for your twelve o’clock liver transplant. You doubt any of them can read, so you hope you can speed through the pictures, answer the stupid questions that are sure to come, and get the hell out of there.

The coach stops talking and looks at you like he’s expecting an answer, and you stare dispassionately at him until even he gets nervous under your gaze - despite being thirty years older. He fixes his baseball cap, then anxiously repeats, “Just make sure they know not to do anything stupid.”

“That’s going to be hard,” you scoff, and the way he flinches means you said that way too loud and way more rudely than you intended.

But he’s seriously not taking offense to this, is he? They get paid to hit each other for a living, it’s not crazy that they would just… not think.

He’s miffed at your behavior and not trying to show it, his mouth twists up all sorts of ways before he says with utmost seriousness, “I need my boys to stay safe so that they can live happy lives outside of football.”

Yawn.

You’d be far more interested if they wanted to get in more danger - that’d give you more interesting surgeries to do, public health initiatives be damned.

“Sir, I drew the short straw,” you say curtly, not swayed one bit by his feelings towards his employees and instead telling him the truth so his expectations are tempered. They’re not a family, this is a business, and you’re not treating this like you’re giving his precious sons a lesson. “I’m giving the regular presentation and then I have to get back to surgery. I can’t afford to give you special treatment.”

Perhaps not used to being told what to do in a place where he runs the show - or perhaps not used to a woman doing it, either - the coach’s mouth falls open. He doesn’t know what to say back, but at least that gives you a moment to brush past him and enter the meeting room to get this over with.

It’s so dark inside the lecture space and the screen at the front is not yet on your Powerpoint (despite the warning about wasting your time!) It’s on some shot of a football play…so you're now bracing yourself for total disrespect at the hands of these men who need pictures to study their craft.

Okay, that’s definitely you being an asshole.

Considering you watch back old surgeries all the time, you shouldn’t judge, but that’s also… different.

As you stand behind the lectern, you can’t see anything beyond the front row and the burly men there don’t intimidate you. They make your annoyance worse with the combination of the level of manspreading they engage in and their nonchalant expressions - with half of them on their phones, and half of them just shirtless and in their athletic underwear. They couldn’t even put on a shirt out of respect!

Ugh.

They get your Powerpoint up on the screen - though the Mayo logo and the grandiose stature of your many titles falls on blind eyes here - and you skip the introduction because you’re forced into time management now. You drone through the opening because you’d be an asshole if you didn’t, “Hi, I'm Dr. y/l/n from the Mayo Clinic, I'm the head of the trauma department—,”

There’s an audible rustling noise, then you hear the gossiping whispers, “Doctor Doom, it’s her.”

You have no idea how your nickname made it out of the hospital, but you suppose everyone in Minneapolis knows someone who knows someone who works at Mayo. That nickname is as ubiquitous as snow storms are here.

You glare so hard in that general direction that they shut up right away, and you don’t hear a second peep of that famed moniker from people who have no business repeating it.

With a deep, deep sigh, you give up on whatever the hell you were trying to do -  incite chaos and/or get your chief to never force you into this again - and begin droning off the piece of paper the team doctor forwarded to you, “I’m Dr. y/l/n and I'm here to tell you why concussions are bad!” You sound like a fucking muppet teaching a bunch of children, you cannot believe they are making you read this, “Your new helmets are designed to keep your brain from rattling around, wear them and…” you have to squint to read the notes because that cannot be right, “Don’t lead with your head.”

Is that supposed to be sexual?

No one is laughing, except for the forced little chuckle you try to hide. Wow. You thought that would be low hanging fruit for football players.

“Because not only that is a…” You have to stop and read again, confused by the unprofessional lingo the team doctor chose to write out, “…fifteen yard unsportsmanlike conduct penalty, your brain will turn to mush if you do.”

Mush?

That’s not a word for medical anything, but it says in the instructions, Powerpoint now!, so you ignore your disdain to dutifully show the brain scans - provided by the NFL to demonstrate how bad a cerebrum gets scrambled from devastating and continuous blows. The shadowed spots get bigger and bigger until there isn’t any brain matter left, but you don’t think they have any idea what it means.

So you flick another slide ahead, to what you included yourself, and the whole room gasps in horror at the onslaught - an x-ray of a skull dented in two from a man who got hit by a car on his bicycle without wearing a helmet, a spine shattered in half from a scooter accident, again not involving a helmet, and then another brain with a big, dark spot from a particularly nasty brain bleed after a skateboarder fell (what do you know!) without wearing a helmet. There’s ten or fifteen grotesque slides, all from helmet-less injuries in different contexts, and from the way you can now hear a pin drop, you know you struck a nerve.

Some dumbass in the front wonders as loud as he can, “What happened to them all?,” and several of his teammates echo their enthusiasm. Yet, you know it’s not out of concern, it’s out of the manly need figure out how far they can push things before they get to this point.

“They died,” you deadpan.

A horrible, crushing gasp escapes from what feels like everyone in the room - the sound of their hopes and dreams to be rampages on the football field keeling over and dying. Ironic.

You let out a burst of chuckles that no one else is entertained by, “Just kidding, I told you I was the head of my department.” As soon as you hear menial sounds of relief, you swoop in and crush them a second time, “I saved half of them, the other half died. Wear your new helmets. Don’t lead with your head.”

You work with the hand of a nonexistent God sometimes, but even then, there’s only so much you can do to un-crush a person’s skull. And that same God knows your time would be better spent saving people other than athletes.

Lead with your head.

Ha.

—

[11:23 am] MC: are you a football WAG now?

You’re in the middle of packing up your stuff when that inane message appears on your phone - after it was silenced to prevent pages from coming through during that presentation. And ugh, after you were done you got about twenty minutes of stupid questions you couldn’t get out of, all of them answered by a variation of “wear your helmet.” Now you have fifteen messages from your residents and your interns, and there is so much you have to get done before surgery in thirty minutes.

Because of that, you’re literally going to change right there with players still walking around, since you won’t have time when you get to the hospital. Not that they care, they’ve avoided you since the second the lights came on and they saw how unfriendly you were despite your stature. You kick off your heels, put your scrub pants on under your skirt, and…

Then you hear it, “Hihi! Doctor ma’am!”

With your pants halfway on and your hair a mess, you glance over to the source of that unwanted nickname, and your eyes adjust to a ball of sunshine running at you and waving. It’s your neighbor. It’s Jaehyun, here in a Vikings hat and matching Vikings shorts, looking like a little purple shirtless grape.

And he’s not alone, he’s grabbing onto the arm of another blonde boy-man who looks tiny in comparison, and also utterly intimidated by you. The usual. But Jaehyun’s cheerful expression - the sparkly eyes, sunny dimples - that's not… that’s weird. Usually men are scared of you.

You finish pulling up your pants, a hard feat to do while being concerned he’s babbling hard enough to blow out a lung, “OMG, I had no idea you’d be giving us the lecture!” He’s shaking his compatriot’s arm so hard the other man’s body blows back and forth like a leaf, but Jaehyun doesn’t notice, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a safety presentation in like, forever. Mushy mush! You’re so cool.”

You’re taken aback by A) his enthusiasm and, B) that he’s not squeamish about the pictures you showed, when everything about him says otherwise.

And also C) he fact that he’s here?

“You… sat in this meeting?” you wonder, feeling stupid for once.

Is it bad that you have all the facts in front of you and you’re still assuming he’s a water boy or delivery boy? Or, you don’t know, someone who gets the players their towels?

“Yes! Every player has to,” he explains with earnest intention, as if you didn’t have the note that says attendance mandatory. “That means me! Even though I’ve never gotten that penalty in the ten years of my career!”

His smile only gets wider after he gets done telling you, he’s so proud of that fact.

Wow, holy shit. It all makes sense, and you cannot believe it took you this long to put it together. The fancy apartment his team got, the ‘parties’ he wasn’t attending, the insane workout schedule, Jaehyun is a real football player. He’s not a loser who plays those football video games, he’s a professional football player.

What?!

How!

You knew athletes were dumb but this is really failing upwards for him. And as soon as you think that, you get annoyed again upon imagining the exorbitant salary he definitely gets and that you do not. Why did you even go to school? You should’ve just put a helmet on and whacked the shit out of some people instead of doing the opposite.

Jaehyun is now turning his friend into jelly with how hard he’s wriggling him around. The other guy is so nervous he can’t even look you in the eye or listen to his friend’s babbling, “I told you about her, dude! I told you!”

“Who’s this?” you ask, just to have leeway to inquire after the more important question, “And what are you talking about?”

Jaehyun was discussing you behind your back? For what reason?

The little guy just waves in fear because he’s legitimately scared of you and doesn’t want to be made to have an actual conversation. But Jaehyun is unfazed enough to answer for his friend, “This is Mark, he’s the backup kicker,” and the rest blows out in another hurricane of words, “and I made him my best friend since we’re both new and we’re both from the south and I told him my neighbor was this fancy lady doctor and—,”

“It’s just doctor,” you correct over the middle of his monologue.

No one ever looks at a male doctor and points out that they’re a male doctor. It is rude of Jaehyun to do so and you want to make sure it never happens again.

“Yeah, oops! Just a doctor! Doctor ma’am!” Jaehyun edits his phrase right away and gives Mark a pointed look, as if to make sure his friend knows the right way to refer to you, too. Then, apologetic in his own happy way, Jaehyun turns back to you and picks up where he left off, “I was saying I told him you do sixteen hour surgeries and spend the whole day awake and you, you boss kids around! Awesome!”

Pure embarrassment runs through your veins when he innocently says boss kids around, and every single bit of Mark’s face drips with shocked disgust. You can spot any and all imagined horror stories now forming in his head as he peeks at a smiling Jaehyun to check if he’s serious. You don’t want Mark to get this twisted, start spreading the rumor that the nickname Doctor Doom actually came from something far more nefarious.

You’re compelled to awkwardly clarify, “They’re not kids… they’re twenty-six year old interns.”

You’re only three years older than them, it’s not like you’re bullying kids or teens. They’re adults, they can take it.

Mark appears skeptical at best about your clarification, the side-eye and feeble smile gives him away - but Jaehyun seriously can’t shut up, “It’s so cool you had all those brains and you showed them to us! Did you do a sixteen hour surgery on one of those?!”

It will never get any less weird that despite his errant assumptions and the fact that you’ve known each other for like, three weeks, Jaehyun is truly interested in your career and not bothered—,

Your work phone goes off and the shrill, frantic beeps that don’t stop means it’s an emergency. You now have to get to the hospital as fast as you can. Once you take a look around the room and see that beyond some janitors in the back, you’re the only three still in here, you strip your dress off, knowing the sports bra underneath won’t give them any fodder for misbehavior.

While you’re struggling to get your green scrub top over your head, you try a modicum of politeness while you still can, “I actually am about to go into one.” Jaehyun ahhhhhs and claps in appreciative excitement, then waves at you in hello when you finally get your head through the hole, so you find yourself waving back as you say (not lie), “It was nice to run into you here!,” and end up waving a second time at a stunned, confused Mark, “Nice to meet you, too!”

You’re probably never going to see the man again, but why be a bitch on purpose?

You start to rush out of the lecture room, before you hear Jaehyun’s lovely, warm call after you, “Bye! Good luck with that!”

He’s so encouraging and sweet for something he knows nothing about, and for a person he knows equally nothing about. That’s nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

—

Back at the hospital, Minho passes you on the way to his OR while you’re heading to yours, and without thinking, you just blurt, “Good luck,” to him.

He turns around with his brow furrowed in confusion, saying nothing as he walks backward for a second and attempts to figure out what just happened. He finishes the turn while shaking the weirdness off and gets back to discussing the case with his resident. As soon as he disappears into the surgical suite you feel yourself getting confused at your behavior in return.

Why did you even say that? That was weird.

tbc.

Chapter Text

Yuta sees you walk through the doors of your apartment at eleven in the morning and his eyebrows shoot straight through his hair - and not just at the hefty fifteen you flash at him. It was a good week of surgery.

He doesn’t even have the mail for you because he wasn’t expecting you to be back, but you had a whole slew of your service cancelled (read: people died) and all the on-call rooms were full of people actually on call… so you figured you’d come home for a bit.

“Eleven?!” He asks after he checks his watch two or three times. When you nod, he starts to tease, “Night on the town planned? Need to get ready?”

You give him the finger and he laughs so hard as he throws you the rest of his Frappuccino in exchange.

There’s no night on the town planned, there’s only a beckoning text from Minho that you can see on the preview screen of your personal phone, I have space in here for one more ;), which means he scrubbed out and wants you to come back to the hospital and have sex.

But you don’t want to spend another second there.

After you get on the elevator, someone comes skipping into it after you and you don’t even have to turn to know who it is. No one other than Jaehyun would choose to skip as their form of transportation, but what surprises you is that you’re close enough to notice that he totally smells good - not like musty athlete as you expected, just the purest, clean soap like the kind you scrub with… and also like flowers. Peach blossom Bath and Body works soap, in specific, and no, you don’t know how you know what that scent is.

“Hihi!” He greets you in his signature way and then he holds out a napkin to you that you can’t see inside of. He realizes that he held it out the wrong way and with a flourish - like a children’s magician - turns it over to reveal a donut covered in strawberry frosting and rainbow sprinkles. He shakes it and explains, “I always get a donut after practice to reward myself but you’re probably hangry, huh?”

You don’t touch it, afraid that Jaehyun is pranking you for some reason, and ask, “You got this for me?”

Jaehyun shrugs and shakes his head while still holding out the donut, “No! But you can have it!”

He smiles so brightly you think you might go blind for a second.

He’s not pranking you, he’s giving you a donut for real because he somehow knows you’re two seconds away from withering into hunger. You think about being nice and offering to split it but your stomach rumbles so hard the elevator also quakes, and in the next two seconds you’ve stuffed it away. Then you mumble through a mouthful of sweet, juicy carbohydrates, “Sorry for that. I’ll buy you another.”

Jaehyun laughs and it sounds like silver bells twinkling in happiness, the delicate mirth not fitting his burly stature. It’s only now that your hunger clears that you realize he’s not wearing a shirt again. Does he just… like, not own clothes?

“I’m not actually hungry! I just have a massive sweet tooth,” he explains, just a bit of shyness in his words and his smile as he holds out his arm to let you off the elevator first.

Why does that fit so much with everything you already know about him? He’s the literal definition of a boy in a candy shop.

Even though your instinct is to roll your eyes, Jaehyun’s good deed and his good mood after his workout prod at you not to sour his morning, so you just offer, “I have ice cream, you can have it. I save it for days that I don’t do well in surgery, I have a lot built up.”

“Goddamn,” Jaehyun says out of nowhere. You turn to see if he stubbed his toe on something or hurt himself, but he said it at you, while staring in awe. “You’re so cool.”

You didn’t intend to be cocky, it’s just a fact that it’s rare you have a day at the hospital that goes so badly you need ice cream. One resident who thought you needed pity as an intern explained after your first bad outcome to keep the ice cream piled high at home to make the bad days feel not so bad. You bought ten pints of Ben and Jerry’s out of a need to follow orders, then you just… never understood why. Ice cream clogs your throat and makes the stench of disappointment worse - that’s why your go to strategy now is to mask a bad outcome by forcing yourself to create five good ones in return.

And also, like, drink a lot.

You unlock the door and don’t bother closing it, hoping Jaehyun takes that as a sign he can come in and you don’t have to do the weird hostess song and dance. After a few seconds, you hear him shuffle inside and take off his shoes. That’s followed by an audible shiver, and his confused and worried, “Why is it so empty in here? I just moved and my place is homier than yours!”

From the freezer, you look back at the place you’ve called home for the past three years since becoming an attending, and find nothing wrong with it. You have floor to ceiling windows and a living space that could fit one of his football fields, enough black leather furniture necessary to fill out the lounge area, a massive TV to make surgeries easier to watch back. You have more than enough rooms and bathrooms to know what to do with, you don’t know why it’s bothering him so much.

“I spend ninety-five percent of my time at the hospital working, four percent of my time at the hospital trying to sleep, and one percent of my time here, dead to the world. Why would I need something nice?” you ask him the rhetorical question you asked yourself after buying the place.

No need for anything impractical - it’s not like you were going to work from home and it’s not like you were ever going to share this space with a second person. It wasn’t until you started seeing Minho that you thought twice about maybe keeping some nice throw blankets here… or a wall decoration, or something.

“Because your home should feel warm,” Jaehyun whines, glancing around in legitimate distress at this place that feels so foreign to him. He lingers on the walls above your couch, and then accuses, “You don’t even have any decorations!”

What would you even put on the walls? A blown up version of your degrees and your case successes, just to show off? (Okay, if you’re being honest... that idea doesn’t sound half bad.)

You throw him the ice cream and are stunned for a moment when he catches it with one hand without looking beyond his periphery - he’s too caught up in the no decorations thing - and then you wonder a bit sarcastically, “Did you bring all your decorations here from Mississippi?”

“Georgia!” he corrects you, and you almost feel bad for not remembering before you notice he doesn’t seem bothered, “And yes! My mom and sisters wouldn’t let me leave home without them.” He gets twisted up in his own thinking and traces out a path in the air you can’t follow, before he explains, “Actually…. my home with them is in Macon, but I played in Atlanta! I played for the Falcons my whole career.”

“And then?” you prompt.

You don’t know what goes on in football, why is he here in Minnesota?

You were trying to make conversation with this incredibly talkative person, but Jaehyun goes silent for a second that leaves your ears ringing.

“Well, I agreed with my family to retire after my tenth season and my contract was expiring and the Falcons didn’t want to bring me back, so they traded me and I'm here!” Even though he’s breathless and smiling, that sounds really sad to you and you must show it, because he opens the ice cream and shrugs while saying, “It’s cool, I’ve never lived in Minnesota before!”

“And you’re not sad about it?” you wonder.

You know how it feels to leave the only place you’ve ever known, and though the timelines aren’t the same, you thought maybe he’d share some of the same feelings.

You check if there are somehow sprinkles in your pantry even though you know there aren’t (they don’t taste like anything and they get everywhere!) and by the time you turn back, Jaehyun has devoured half the ice cream already. He gets it all over his nose and rosy cheeks and doesn’t stop smiling once as he savors the chocolate truffle flavor that you don’t think was designed for binge-eating like this.

“It’s the last year of my career, I'm just going to play hard and have fun!” he warbles through a spoonful. “That’s why I like football! It’s fun! I’ve loved it forever!” He is so simple and honest with everything he says you are at a loss for words when he asks in return, “Is that how you feel about being a doctor?

Deep down in your feelings, there is no answer you can give that is as honest as his. You thought you got into medicine because you loved it and maybe you did, but it doesn’t feel as such anymore? That passion and intensity from when you just got into med school has channeled itself into the dispassionate rage that keeps you running the department and getting through your surgeries. Sometimes this position feels more like just a job than an opportunity that you were gifted. Sometimes patients seem more like statistics than actual entities you should care about. Sometimes you feel like you’re falling into the trap of everything you were warned about when you were an intern.

That’s why you want to be the Surgeon General - that change of pace might be the rejuvenation to your career that you need.

“Sure, I guess I like it,” you answer with a shrug. “I’m head of my department, I'm basically the most powerful woman in the hospital besides our chief. I want to be Surgeon General one day—,”

“Hell yeah!” Jaehyun interrupts and almost sends the ice cream flying when he gestures all over the place, “That’s why I bragged to Mark, he could tell everyone that his cousin is a famous rapper, but I had him beat with my neighbor story!”

You find it a bit dramatic, if not weirdly charming, that he’s so excited about this every single time.

And for once, you don’t want to talk about yourself, so you sit on the barstool opposite of him and wonder, “So, you’re thirty?”

You just want to make sure you didn’t accidentally hear thirteen along the way.

“Wait, wait, I can do this for you.” Jaehyun puts down the ice cream, A) weird, and then clears his throat, B) weirder, and C) weirdest of all, he lets his head hang in front of his chest, and then pulls it up with a bright, cheesy grin before announcing, “Jaehyun Jeong, wide receiver, Theeeeee University of Georgia!” He gives you a side eye glance and you don’t know what to do with that cue, before he uses that same big voice again, “I’m thirty and an Aquarius since I was born on February fourteenth!” He transforms back into his usual self with the happy, deep voice, and explains, “That’s what they make us do for every primetime game.”

You’re so confused.

“They make you say your horoscope?” you ask.

What does that have to do with the ability to play football?

“No, I just like to say it in case people want to know. I have no idea what it is or what it means,” Jaehyun admits - finally, something you can both agree on - before he continues, “I like the stars though, you can see them from my farm—,” His mouth and eyes expand to the same roundness in his face after he’d forgotten that important tidbit, “Oh yeah, I'm from a farm! Not from, I'm not a cow, but I live on one!”

You cannot believe he has to give you a disclaimer that he is not a cow, and you cannot believe you want to laugh at it.

Jaehyun looks at you expectantly - but not for you to react to his information. For you to participate in the conversation.

You feel the rumblings of discomfort try to stop you and fail, “I’m… I’m from Brooklyn, I guess,” and after the worst is over, you tell him the more pertinent part, “But I’ve lived in Minny for so long it doesn’t feel like I'm from anywhere else.”

You don’t like to think of yourself as being from Brooklyn, even though that’s what it says on your birth certificate. It feels fake, like a part of your body that existed in a person that wasn’t actually you, and in general, it’s something you’d like to forget about.

“How old are you? Forty?”

You think your ego falls out of your ass when Jaehyun asks you that, and is totally serious about it.

You glance at yourself in the reflection of your phone, and shit. Do you actually look forty? You didn’t think the stress was piling on that hard these past ten years but maybe you’re going to have to ask Minho to give you Botox in between your surgeries–,

“Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” he freaks out and waves his hands around in his embarrassment, cheeks pinking up like a shy boy’s. He can barely get a handle over his words as he blusters, “You’re like, super beautiful and hot, but aren’t you like… don’t doctors take forever in school? Huh?”

Whew.

You weren’t ready to be perceived as old yet. Though every time Jaehyun calls you ma’am - out of pure southern goodness and practice - you feel like you’re about eighty-five.

Much less disturbed than you were a moment ago, you dust off the shiny case of metaphorical trophies you’d display in this house if you could. It’s a story that used to be commonplace but became an urban legend to the point that you never had to tell it anymore, it just preceded you, “Finished high school at thirteen, college at sixteen, med school at twenty, and residency at twenty-six. I was asked to be an attending, a specialized doctor, in trauma the same year, and was promoted to chief of trauma last fall.”

Sure, you’ll concede you only got the chief title at twenty-eight because the old chief had to retire due to his arthritis, but it would’ve happened soon anyways. This is a commonplace bit of information that is no different than telling someone your favorite color or food, a neat way to look at the accomplishments of your life, done out of necessity to survive the situation you were placed in.

And Jaehyun is not impressed at all, not one bit.

He’s worried, he’s legitimately worried to the point that his eyelashes and eyebrows and lips start to tremble. “When did you have fun? When were you a kid?,” he wonders, and the most devastating thing to him is that he does the math on his fingers and just swoons in horror, “You couldn’t even do a keg stand in college!”

Huh, you never thought about that one, considering you were too worried about getting your first period in the Yale dorms and not knowing what to do. It’s not like that stopped you from being the best in all your classes, though.

You laugh a little and admit, “Sure, but I think I’m good having never done a keg stand, hmm?”

“Yeah…” Jaehyun answers hesitantly, combing through no less than a thousand different keg stands he did in college in his mind. He looks at you once again with a worried little stare and offers up, “But Mama always says never press down a biscuit that’s too big for the pan.”

Literally what?

Ding.

Your personal phone goes off before you can ask Jaehyun what that metaphor means and you check it just in case (you never know!)… and you get a very wild preview of a very wild shirtless picture with the very wild caption of I’m waiting for u to ride me, and ugh, fine. You guess you’ll go back to the hospital and have sex with Minho.

When you glance up from your phone, you’re relieved that Jaehyun didn’t see any of it. He must’ve been preoccupied closing up the carton and licking the spoon, because he’s handing back a very clean utensil and a neatly sealed packet of ice cream and saying, “Here’s your ice cream! Nice chat! I know you have to go back to the hospital, so bye!”

“Take it,” you deny, pushing the carton back his way and the spoon too. When he tries to protest your protest, you firmly block him. “For the donut.”

You owe him somehow, and you never let a debt linger.

“Thank you!” Jaehyun chirps, unable to hide that he’s secretly happy you gave in and gifted him the treat. He unseals the carton and takes a big spoonful out to eat while he scurries out of your apartment to give you the privacy you need before heading back to work - presumably, in his mind, for something important. 

How can one person be happy all the time like this? He’s such an interesting person. You seriously need to ask him what the secret is. Maybe it is ice cream.

—

Minho is about one blink away from snoring into the pillow after two straight sex sessions in a row, but you can’t help it.

You snuggle your head into his bare shoulder and relish in the feel of him deciding to cuddle you as he sleeps for once, then you just ask it, “What do you think never press down a biscuit that’s too big for the pan means?”

You don’t want to admit you spent a lot of that second romp trying to figure out what Jaehyun meant by his parting phrase. At best, you figured it must mean, you can’t hold back something that isn’t meant to fit in. But zero percent of your conversation indicated he had that kind of nuance.

“I think it means you need to stop huffing oxygen in surgery,” he mumbles into your hair, half in a yawn, half in a scolding tone that doesn’t take you seriously.

You aren’t taking yourself seriously, why are you even thinking about this? It means nothing, they’re literally just random words your neighbor said to you.

—

The next time you end up at home, on a sweltering summer day that has you sweating through your scrubs just crossing the street into your apartment, you barely have the door closed behind you when there’s another knock on it. You think it might be Jaehyun here for more ice cream, and you’re considering indulging in it with him for once - but when you open the door, it’s just this massive slab of… pink, pink, and more pink, with two Nikes stuck out underneath it.

His dimpled smile peeks around the corner. He looks so excited that you’ve answered that you honestly think it might be the best thing that’s happened to him today, “Hihi! Look what I got!”

You realize the slab of pink is something tangible and not just your sleepy brain manifesting colors when you see the red and white TJ Maxx tag on the back that he’s desperately tried to scrape off. Jaehyun jiggles his knee against it in his own fake drumroll, and then he turns around what he’s holding….

A massive wall decoration that reads  ♡ Gaslight ♡ Gatekeep ♡ Girlboss ♡

Straight up awful and atrocious, either/or on the adjectives, the sign makes you want to gouge your eyes out and never look at anything else again in your life. How did they manage to manufacture something this terrible? The pink really is pink, a slab of bright neon that burns into your eyeballs as you read over the golden cursive font. What are you gaslighting and gatekeeping here? Does he even know what this means?

“What is this?” you ask him, baffled.

“You’re a certified girl boss,” Jaehyun whispers to you, letting you in on the world’s biggest secret, and you feel a horrible shiver go down your back at just how much you hate that term. He walks into your apartment without an invitation and explains while doing so, “I learned that term from my baby sisters who were in this girl boss club in high school. I saw this while shopping and thought of you.”

You suppose girl boss is technically what you are - on a very annoying and condescending technicality after you told him not to call you a lady doctor. But he has a way of making even the most bothersome things kind of charming. Thinking of his little sisters while he was shopping? What, was he looking for an apron to bake biscuits in?

None of that explains why that atrocious sign made it out of the store though.

“Jaehyun, why do you have this.” 

“For you, so you can have some decorations in here! It’s subtle, I think that’s what you’d like." His muscled arms hold out the sign as he walks through your living room and tries to find a place to hang it up. 

(It’s not subtle at all!)

(It's almost as long as he is tall! What!)

You get so anxious at the thought of it being in here that you want to tell him to return it. But when you see him smile to himself as he goes through each and every wall spot so thoroughly, you cave. He bought it thinking you would love it and you suppose if you don’t do this, he’s going to find something even worse to gift to you.

Like a large picture of himself… or whatever.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you dart over and grab the sign from him and inadvertently reveal in the process that once again he is not wearing a shirt. (Why didn’t he shop for one at TJ Maxx! Ugh, anyways…) Jaehyun doesn’t go away though, he’s not going to be satisfied until he sees it displayed proudly somewhere in here, so you just sigh and ask, “Where should I put it?”

“Above your couch,” he answers with no hesitation.

Upon quick thought, there’s no secondary excuse you can come up with. So, after another deep sigh that gives you a headache, you awkwardly prop it up on the back of your massive sectional. It looks foolish, pink and glittering above your statuesque, understated couch, making this place look like it’s owned a soccer mom Karen who is about fifty-eight years old, and not a hardcore surgeon in her late twenties.

But Jaehyun is taking a picture of it on his phone, his lip caught up in his teeth, his cheeks red as cherries. If this makes him that happy, you’ll leave it up…. until he leaves.

“Perfect!” he trills as he snaps one last photo then gives you thumbs up of approval. “Enjoy!”

He goes skipping away back to his place and when you hear the door close, you race to climb on the couch to get rid of it… when you get an immediate 911 page from the hospital.

So you put about a thousand reminders in your phone to take that awful sign down, before the pristine apartment you live in is haunted by the ghosts of girl bosses past.

—

While you’re in the middle of finishing your case notes for the past week, you hear shuffling noises outside of your office door that break your concentration. You kick it open with your foot while still sitting down, pulling out a triad yelp of surprise from NaLeeNing as they must’ve been wrestling over who would knock and disturb you.

They smell weird, why do they smell weird.

You don’t say anything or acknowledge them, you just harden your glare the teensiest bit, the universal sign for talk to me or go away.

Na takes a deep breath, the designated victim since he can couple it with his sweet talking - and sweet talk he does, “We’re so sorry to disturb you, Doc D… Dr. y/l/n, but our floating resident Moon, and his friend resident Zhang….”

At that point, he trails off and looks at the other two, who widen their eyes in a gesture for him to go on. He doesn’t seem like he wants to do that, odd, considering he never shuts up.

You jam the ballpoint of your pen into your papers so the small noise sounds like the ricochet of a gun going off and they all jump a second time. The two boys fly back so Ning is stuck in the front and center, trying hard to be confident in front of you.

She clutches at her notebook for a good thirty seconds before blurting, “They’re having us practice our stitches on steaks instead of the skills lab!,” and because you haven’t yelled yet, Na tries again to tack on, “And we just don’t have the money or fortitude to be sniffing expensive cow for two hours every day to practice our sewing.”

That sounds like a legitimately idiotic idea, but you’re not in charge of getting the interns up to speed on something as simple as stitching - hence why the skills lab exists and the residents run it, not you. So, whatever. Not your circus, not your monkeys... even though they’re sort of your monkeys. You’re more preoccupied with the elephants, aka the massive set of cases you’re staring down for the next week.

But then Lee gathers his strength after staying silent this whole time and hisses to them, “No, tell her the truth!” Neither one of Na or Ning wants to look you in the eye, so Lee just shoves his hands in his white coat and mumbles, “They said we couldn’t go in there because they needed it to get in on your ex-vivo tumor debulking.”

The rage you feel threatens to send you into a blackout.

At the sheer audacity of your residents trying to manipulate the only time the interns have to practice - just to kiss your ass and try to get in on a surgery you only requested attendings for - you seriously want to go to the chief and ask to fire them—,

The Chief.

Chief Kwon wouldn’t be happy if you caused her trouble due to the interns for a second time. You’re sure she has her cronies lurking around and keeping tabs on the gossip.

“Alright,” you sigh. “I’ll figure out a solution for you.”

Even though you both don’t want to and don’t have the time to, finding a way to get the interns to practice their stitching peacefully while also whipping the residents into silent, obedient shape (and doing so without complaining to the chief and making her mad at you again)... that’s the kind of thing that will show initiative. Which will surely be a mark of interest on your case file that Chief Kwon passes to the president’s team during the evaluation for Surgeon General.

The three maggots look genuinely surprised and grateful that not only did you not give them a reaming, you decided to both A) believe them and B) take their side with no hesitation.

“Thank you!” They all chirp at the same time, sharing the same brain cells in both medicine and communication, before Na resumes his penchant for ass-kisisng, “You seriously won’t regret this, we’ll do our best after this! Thanks Doc D, you’re the best!”

You wave them away with an aloof twirl of your fingers and when they don’t dissipate, you slam the door closed with your foot.

You seriously doubt you won’t regret getting involved with this, but it’s too late now.

—

The residents in your department are idiots.

You asked Ning before she left for the day what kind of steaks the residents told them to practice on, she told you in turn that they said sirloins, nothing less. You decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that this is some kind of surgical technique that you’re behind the times on.

You used to practice on bananas! Maybe you are old!

So you actually went to the supermarket, got a steak, cut it open and are trying to sew it up……. And of course, like you thought, the texture is literally not at all like human flesh. Beyond that, there’s no skin! They residents are so….. Ugh. They are beyond frustrating and you’re glad that the interns had the balls to speak up so you could be aware of what’s going on in your department. Why you’re hearing it from them and not the attendings, you don’t know. 

When you’re trying to finish off your whip stitches, you hear knocking on the front door. So with your meat, you go over and kick it open with your foot because obviously you have to practice “sterile technique." You see Jaehyun there in his usual workout outfit, sweaty and glistening in the sterile hallway lighting.

His mouth is about to curl up in a soft smile of hello when it drops in horror at the meat in your hands, and he legitimately screams out loud, “What are you doing!”

“I'm trying to put myself in my idiot interns’ shoes so I don’t get demoted,” you grumble, walking back to your barstool and leaving the door open so he’ll either take the hint to come in or at least close the door so you won’t have to wash your hands.

Why did you ever think that showing some sympathy would be a good idea?! When you could’ve just told them to leave you alone and figure it out?!

Jaehyun is torn between staring and flinching away in pain, and then he warbles his question, “What’s the meat for?”

“To practice running whip stitches?” you respond, then remember he has no idea what that is, so you show him your attempt at your neatest stitching possible that came out looking a bit funky on this type of flesh.

Again, fuck the residents.

He takes a peek on his tiptoes, then scream-hollers in pain like you’d been practicing those stitches on his arm instead. He covers his eyes with his hand as he throws whatever he’d been holding your way and nearly beans you in the face with it. You look down and see a bag from Dunkin’ Donuts splattered on your floor. But Jaehyun doesn’t care about it, he’s too busy freaking out, “No, that’s a cow!”

Yes? It’s steak?

“Sorry?” you apologize in your confusion, but he still doesn’t want to come in or get close because of the meat in your hands. “Don’t you live on a farm?”

You thought country boys were used to this kind of thing and he’s the countriest of them all.

“Yes, we have ten cows we love and cherish, that have names and give us milk!” Jaehyun whines, “Don’t move, when I get back I need to not see that!”

You stand there in a daze, watching his muscled, bare back turn and scurry across the hallway into his apartment, trying hard to understand what just happened. He was upset that you were practicing stitches on a steak……….. because he named his cows at home?

As soon as you put that connection together, though, it makes absolute sense.

Of course he named his cows.

They’re probably named Butterball and Sweetheart.

Jaehyun comes back not two minutes later with a bunch of foam in his hands and his face lit up in a tiny, proud smile… until the second he sees you there with the meat still and he lets out a gargle of pain, “Ahhhhdhfsdf! Get it away, get it away!”

You glance down at the raw flesh in your hand, get hit by the way it smells more like something you’d grill than the odor of human blood, and start to feel icky about this too.

You sprint over to the kitchen and toss it out, race to wash your hands like you’re scrubbing into an actual procedure, cursing yourself for not thinking to put gloves on. You spray the trash can with a heavy spritz of Febreze, then half joke to yourself, “There’ll be no mooing from my trash can, promise.”

You expect to hear sunny giggles, or at least some noise of communication from Jaehyun. But his pale face is not just pure white, it’s streaked with sickly green, and when he opens his mouth, the sounds that come out of it are cracked with grief, “Ha ha. That’s not funny.” His bottom lip sticks out in a childish pout and his socked feet fidget on your floors as he whines again, “I can’t eat meat because we have cows and chickens and pigs on the farm and they’re all my babiessss! Buttered Biscuit is literally my daughter!”

You cannot wait to find out which one that is. Ha. 

Weirdly charmed by the fact he’s so attached to these farm animals, you try to make your face serious and commiserate, “I won’t laugh at that, I get where you’re coming from.”

Sometimes being in someone’s belly all day smelling blood and guts and everything else makes you less inclined to have a fat hamburger afterwards. Funny though, that he’s okay getting you McDonald’s, but has freaked out like this at the mere sight of meat. Really funny.

He’s still holding the stuff that he brought over from his apartment, and when you just your chin out at it, he explains, “It’s leftover football pad foam, this should work, right?”

You’re skeptical as hell that this would work to replace the feeling of human flesh in your hands. But you take the beige and purple plastic and the combination of textures is kind of like the dummies they have in the skills lab. Figuring you may as well try it, you shrug and take it to your setup with the vicryl closures and forceps, and get ready to try this again. Jaehyun stays hovering in the middle of your kitchen, watching you prepare to pierce the plastic with a massive needle, and you kick your foot out in a gesture for him to sit because he still looks freaked out.

When the strokes of green start to streak Jaehyun’s cheeks again, you know you have to distract him. You wave the foam around and ask, “You have all this stuff just lying around?”

“I am a very serious football player,” he answers very seriously, as he sits down slowly and blinks hard when the needle goes through the foam.

He looks like he’s going to hurl even though he sat through that grotesque powerpoint at his practice facility, so you give up on the sewing. It’ll take you about five minutes to finish, you could do it while peeing.

“Oh, are you? I didn’t get that at all,” you tease him the slightest bit.

His early morning workouts and unchanging athletic attire and the way he can’t stop talking about his job certainly didn’t clue you into this.

“Football is the only thing I'm good at and the only thing I do,” Jaehyun admits with no reservation, taking your teasing seriously. He smiles and comes across then as so carefree and simple, “So, I try to work hard! Especially after I was traded, and doubly especially since this is my last year.”

He keeps mentioning that he’s retiring this year, and perhaps it’s just because he gives off super youthful energy, but... he looks and seems as if he could play football for the next hundred years.

“Why’s it your last year, don’t people play until they’re super old?”

Though you haven’t seen a game of football in your life, last year you did have a VIP that was over forty and playing for a Florida team. He experienced acute appendicitis on the field at US Bank and was airlifted to you and you did an appendectomy on him, and he was so annoying about not eating fruit… okay, you need to stop with the details.

The point is, forty is way older than thirty, and you are not forty, thank you very much.

“My mama’s getting old, I promised her I’d come home to run the farm,” Jaehyun answers, voice wavering through different planes of emotion, “I was kinda down about getting traded but I'm choosing to look at it as a new experience. After all, I’ve lived at home my whole life. Time to try something new and work hard!”

Hs dimples get caught up in this cross between a smile and some unfamiliar expression that you can’t decipher. From your limited interactions, you can obviously tell he’s trying to be cheerful about it but there’s a weird undertone you’re able to tease out from his lingering lack of confidence. But why do you care? Why is it your issue what this man does with his career?

It might be your issue because that’s how you felt… when you left home at thirteen to go to college at Yale.

And like Jaehyun reads your mind, he makes a little rewinding noise by trilling his lips, and backtracks his statement, “Of course I shouldn’t be talking about working hard to you! You don’t even have to work hard in that way, trauma queen, it’s probably so easy for you.”

A) There’s no such thing as a trauma queen, that makes it sound like you’re the queen of emotional trauma or something…

Which. Maybe not wrong.

B) you can’t tell if you should be insulted or flattered Jaehyun doesn’t think you have to work hard. You don’t think you’ve had an easy day in your life and it’s in fact been doubled by all of your circumstances.

“It’s not easy at all,” you clarify as nicely as you can. “If the crazy surgeries aren’t a clue I basically run myself ragged to keep my reputation stellar at the hospital.”

Not even your reputation, per se, that implies you had a bad reputation in the first place and had to fix it. You run yourself ragged to continue to prove that you deserve the position, accolades, and respect you have. If you let yourself slip even one bit, boom, you’re back in the trenches fighting for your life.

Jaehyun looks at you like you just spoke in gibberish, “You make it all look so easy. Only a genius would be able to do what you do and aren’t things easy for geniuses?”

Too many people have thrown that term at you in far more derogatory circumstances, including people you never would’ve expected it from. However, from him, with his proud little grin and his sparkly eyes, it does not sound half bad. Though his compliment does nothing to soothe the wounds of the truth that are still there.

You hold in your frustrated groan behind your teeth, “Yes, but I'm also a woman.”

Truth is, you could’ve been born a man and be half as good as you are now and still have the same levels of accolades and success. No one recognizes it other than powerful women like your chief, and you doubt an alpha male country boy like Jaehyun will understand the nuance of what you go through—,

His brow furrows in outright, immediate frustration, and you can hear the anger in his tone, “I know! It’s so unfair for you to be treated differently, right!”

And he’s totally serious about it and not making fun of you one bit.

Wow.

Yes, that’s it.

Male doctors in your hospital can be rude and angry and mean and do whatever they want, when they want, and it’s all good fun because that’s just the way they are. But as soon as you yell at a group of interns you need to dial it back and be a good teacher. You always have to be gracious and kind and caring, like a mother and sister and wife in one to every patient. Sometimes you find yourself thinking, Goddamn, didn’t I go to school for all those years just to be a doctor? Why aren’t you just letting me be one?

Endless competitions for your surgeries despite your stellar record, questions over promotions that you didn’t ask for. Harassment and judgement. An unspoken obligation to make yourself small so that your male colleagues don’t crush you within their egos.

The more Jaehyun he thinks about it, the angrier he gets, and he ends up almost toppling off his stool when he bursts, “That’s not fair at all! You are just doing your doctor ma’am job and shouldn’t be bothered! Why do girls have to get treated differently!”

Okay, maybe you’re understanding why he bought you that Girlboss wall decoration that you still need to find time to take down. In the distance, it gives his head of blonde hair a nice pink halo as his cheeks flame the exact same hue. He said his sisters were in a ‘girlboss club’ in high school - and hough that was probably something like Future Female Leaders of America, he must’ve heard this exact speech from them before.

Jaehyun actually doesn’t give you a second to speak or agree or rebut him, because now he’s straight up ranting, “You shouldn’t change the way you act just because dudes like me have a problem!”

He says it like it’s so easy for you to do that, and part of you wishes it was. You never used to have that problem, in fact, you used to regularly tell your male counterparts to fuck off… But with the promotion and the upcoming Surgeon General search you think you’re being extra careful on purpose. It doesn’t feel like you.

“There have been studies that show female doctors lower mortality rates in patients…” You delve into the usual data points that come when having this argument with colleagues, and Jaehyun makes a confused little face when he doesn’t understand the terminology you’re using. You bring it down to his level but try not to talk down to him, “That means fewer people die in a small test size. Mostly because female doctors tend involve patient-centered communication and standards of care.”

If you compared the list of your good outcomes to any male doctor in the hospital - save for maybe Dr. Do in general, who is the kindest out of all of them - you think yours would be twice as long.

“Well, I believe thaaaaat,” Jaehyun scoffs, like it’s obvious to him and you didn’t need to explain. “Especially since all women doctors are probably just like you!”

You’re surprised again for the second thime that he goes along with it without arguing, because Minho definitely did when you brought it up. He spent the entire conversation saying the study was biased due to its small sample size and it couldn’t possibly be right. And an unfamiliar pinprick of strange, funny heat against the inside of your chest wall comes alongside his ridiculous compliment.

“Oh, I don’t know about that one…,” you laugh the extravagance off in a quiet affectation, more your style than being arrogant—, 

Your work phone goes off and of course you’re obliged to check as Jaehyun chatters on about something that you hope he’ll forgive you not listening to.

[8:58 pm] Ning, Yi Zhou: I’m so sorry for texting you while you’re off Doc D
[8:58 pm] Ning, Yi Zhou: the residents are yelling at us for going into the skills lab while they were in surgery :(

Her little :( is so unprofessional which means she sent it without thinking, but it is such a genuine expression of emotion from her that the same unfettered anger from before roars back.

[9:01 pm] you to: Trauma: We’re having a pre-rounds meeting tomorrow. Everyone, all attendings, residents, and interns, must attend.
[9:01 pm] you to: Trauma: No attendance means no surgeries on your schedule for a week.

It feels like a flash of the old you, who wouldn’t back down or care what happened, and  wouldn’t be worried about Chief Kwon finding out.

When you glance up from your message, Jaehyun is on the phone - that’s what his chattering was - and he sits so funnily while he does so, ramrod straight and with his free hand in his lap, as if whoever it is can see he’s being polite through the phone.

He smiles widely while they’re talking and then he answers, “Yes ma’am, yes, yes. Can it be possible for the team to switch me to all female doctors?”

Your throat closes up in this discombobulated noise of shock and entertainment as you sit there, frozen, and watch him go through this call like he’s something out of a comedy movie.

Jaehyun looks all proud of himself, shoulders shimmying in quiet delight. He doesn’t realize you’re watching any of this, and that means you have a front row seat to the way his pink mouth downturns in horror, and his affected gasp comes echoing out, “No, this is!….. This isn’t me being a pervert!”

You have to put a hand over your mouth not to howl in laughter.

He goes blushed from forehead to chin as he blusters through an explanation, “It’s about me getting the treatment I deserve, a good standard of care and patient….” He looks right at you when the words die in his head, hoping that you’ll assist him with this rant that you find literally unbelievable. You lower your hand and get your shit together to mouth at him patient centered communication. His confident smile returns and he finishes speaking to who you’re sure is the receptionist for his Minnesota doctor’s office, “Patient centered communication! I’d like what’s best for me and so I’d like female doctors for my team treatments if possible, thank you!”

He hangs up and then fist pumps to himself like he’d just won whatever the football championship is called.

You cannot believe you just witnessed what you did, that he… he. He really asked for all female doctors without a second of hesitation, because he thinks they’re going to be just like you? What is he expecting, some legion of superheroes in green scrubs and braids that work miracles? Hahaha, perhaps you should float that as a new brand of advertising at Mayo. Maybe he is a genius.

Jaehyun peeks at you through his eyelashes and gets flustered that you’re staring, and then exclaims, “I don’t want to die early! That’ll help!”

You burst out laughing, loud and jolly and unfamiliar, feeling so good since so much of your life doesn’t lend itself to this kind of hilarity. Jaehyun gets caught up in silence as he watches you laugh, and you think for a moment about stopping because you’re making him feel bad, but he giggles at himself, the smallest little hehe ever, and then he gives up on being embarrassed and joins in with your cackles.

That might be the first time in nearly two decades you laugh until you’re almost crying.

—

The residents, attendings, and interns do show up for the meeting.

Getting their surgical schedules threatened is pretty much they only thing they fear anymore and they know that you’d actually follow through on that threat. However, they seem like they could not care less about the possibility of that punishment, since they’re scattered and lounging and chatting on their phones.

Here you go.

“Do not look at your phones,” you growl, and there’s at least two gasps of surprise and three sounds of people nearly falling off their stools. “Look at me.”

You wait until every single set of eyes are on you, without exceptions, and snap your fingers in front of the ignorant resident in the second row to get him to stop staring off into space. You swear that when you drift by Minho’s gaze, he’s got his eyes sparkling in hidden laughter, but you don’t have time or energy to be frustrated with him. This has been bubbling since Ning (ugh, Ningning… you have to start calling her what everyone else calls her, otherwise you’re no better than any of the other residents)... since Ningning texted you.

“I do not want to hear about anyone giving the interns nonsense advice or not helping them.” Like sewing beef to practice or locking them out of skills labs or leaving them behind on surgeries they should be in. You glare at every single resident that is now cowering under their failed responsibility and then glare extra hard at the nonchalant attendings who let this all happen, “How else are we supposed to shape good doctors if they’re left on their own to flounder and come to me for help? Me. Where’s the hierarchy, where’s the order?”

You can’t do everything yourself. If so, you wouldn’t even allow another doctor into your department unless they had done a minimum of two hundred surgeries with you.

“I never once went to my department head when I was an intern because I never needed to,” you remind them, as snarky and as arrogant as possible because you can’t be the only one who ever set standards for yourself. “What the hell are we paying the residents and attendings for if I’m forced to babysit?” That ruffles pretty much everyone’s feathers, now you’ve gotten all of their attention by bringing their salaries into this, “Pretty soon you’re going to force me to do every single surgery in this department on my own, and even though I can, you do not want to see it get to that point.”

Because heads will roll at that point, and not in a way that you can fix them. How can you trust any of these people with patients’ lives when they don’t spend any time caring for their own?

“On top of your cases, I need a detailed plan from each resident and attending as to how they’re going to clean this up moving forward." Not a single soul dares to grumble or show their reservations because they just… they know they’re going to get fired if they do. You point a finger towards the Mayo Logo behind you and then parrot out a version of the speech Chief Kwon gives at the beginning of every year, “We need to help upkeep both the standards of the hospital and the education of interns, while furthering ourselves for the wellbeing of our patients.”

While it is a bunch of generic platitudes that she has to say to keep the board happy, Chief Kwon has the right idea. Ultimately, this is all for your patients and it is irresponsible to think otherwise.

“Get lost,” you snap, and in the next breath you take, all of your department minions start to dissipate back to the OR.

Those that move the quickest are recognizable though, and you hold out an arm to stop Moon and Zhang from scurrying away before receiving your wrath. They’re both taller by a considerable margin, but cower in front of you as you let the neutral department head go and become the feral commander they know you to be, “If I ever hear about another story like the one you pulled, not only are you not getting into my debulking, you’re never seeing the inside of my OR again, period.”

Sewing steaks to practice, who the fuck do they think they are.

“Y-yes,” Moon stutters the second your words hit him like a battering ram. And Zhang, the big man he is, gets so frightened that he can’t muster a response up other than a silent, terrified nod.

With a loud sigh of disgust you make sure they hear, you wave them away and are left with the three nervously smiling faces of your maggot interns, relieved and worried at the same time that they’re next. You’re happy they’re relieved though, you just put yourself through all of that for them—,

[5:35 am] MC: damn use that tone in bed next time dollface
[5:35 am] MC: ps. next time = now?

At that inappropriate, and frankly, patronizing text, you look up to see your lover lingering by the open door of the nearest on-call room, mouth turned up in a subtle smirk.

Minho took none of that seriously.

And just like that, you lose any and all desire you might have to fuck him before surgery prep. A shame, considering if he showed just one ounce of support to your struggle you would’ve done so without a problem.

[5:37 am] you: You’re an attending, you’re part of the problem.
[5:37 am] you: I expect a report from you, too.

Nobody gets away unscathed, not even the people you’ve chosen to sleep with.

You watch him read the text and then his jaw drops, before he glares right at you… and his head is blocked off by the appearance of Chief Kwon. Her face is as neutral as always, but you know based on how quickly she showed up that she caught wind of what was going on and ended up listening to everything.

You brace yourself to get scolded in turn, and…

And instead, her mouth turns up into the briefest of smiles before it disappears so no one could claim she’s playing favorites. Then she says evenly, “Good, well done. That’s what you need to do whilst in a job commanding tons of people. Like the Surgeon General would do. Or chief of surgery.”

She walks away without another word and is immediately replaced by Minho, who, as expected, begins to rage. But you don’t care to listen to a word he says, considering you’re never going to give him a pass for his behavior.

You feel proud about yourself and what you did, controlling your fury into something constructive - which you’ll admit has been rare since you took over trauma. You don’t regret it one bit. It feels adult and far more of an accomplishment than it would be if you just became the rage monster and doled out punishments.

It also feels as if Jaehyun helped you in that moment, in a very weird, roundabout way. He’s like your strange, annoying, jolly guardian angel.

—

You buy out what feels like the entire candy section of the hospital gift shop and leave it on Jaehyun’s doorknob - though you don’t take the time to write a note or draw a smiley because as you leave it you have to go back for a consult… which turns into a forty-eight hour call.

When you get home from that call, though, there’s a bag waiting for you in turn, filled with a massive container of fries and some chicken nuggets.

The note says, I close my eyes when they give me the food. And the dimpled smiley is frowning right next to a very awful drawing of a feathered blob that you suppose is a chicken.

—

Now that you’ve been talking to your neighbor more often - you no longer see him as a pariah, and he’s been convinced that you don’t slaughter cows in here for fun - Jaehyun has somehow gotten comfortable coming over whenever he wants. You don’t mind it that much. Sometimes it comes across as far too familiar for a person you’ve only known for a month and change, but that must be the innate charm of southern hospitality.

He has been rooting around in your storage closet for about ten minutes now. Something spilled on his floor and he didn’t have the exact cleaning product he wanted... so he came over while you were reading your surgical notes on that successful ex-vivo tumor debulking. As you watch him get more and more frustrated with all the stuff you don’t have - the stuff in there is just surgical supplies that wouldn’t help him - you can’t help but ask, “Don’t you have maids? I have maids?”

How else would you be expected to keep your apartment clean when you’re not even awake to wash yourself sometimes. Like, these are the times you wish you had a boyfriend, so you could shower together!

Jaehyun shakes his head and his searching gets even more frantic, “I do have a maid but my family is coming so I like to clean and get things ready for them.”

Your chest feels a little uncomfortable, and you know exactly why.

“You are such a country boy,” you hum quietly, and choose to focus on both his ears turning red from behind than anything else you might be feeling. “What are they coming here for?”

“For the first game of the seasonnnnnn—, Yes!” He ends up screaming his answer in victory when he finds the Mr. Clean eraser hidden in the back of the back of the back of your supplies.

Huh, you had no idea when football season even started. You were half convinced it was going on this whole time though you suppose that practices aren’t games. You realized summer was winding down due to how cool the nights were getting, but you didn't think it was going to be over that fast. Ugh, you are getting old.

“Cool, hope they like the apartment and area,” you say as you turn back to your notes and hope that he moves on.

But Jaehyun, the poor, sweet thing, doesn’t read any of your social cues. He comes running over with his magic erasers and launches himself beside you on the couch, nearly knocking over the Girlboss decoration that is still there, and then he wonders, “Where do you take your family when they come to visit you?”

You think your throat has gone anesthetized with how quickly it becomes hard to breathe for you.

Jaehyun takes it a step further and asks something else, “Where do you go out with your friends? I wanna have fun outside of football,” before he giggles so happily and amends to you in a whisper-secret, “In moderation, of course.”

But you can’t laugh.

You’re sitting there in your spot on the couch, blanked out on existence to the point of total ignorance. Nothing is coming up in response except for that little place you get bagels from and one Chinese takeout spot you’ve run into oblivion due to all the group and late night orders.

Hehe, his signature two note giggle is doused in a healthy heaping of nerves, as he looks around to try and avoid you for a second. Then he hesitantly swims through his question, “Your family….. does come visit you, right?”

Better just rip the bandaid off, since you’re past the point of existing with Jaehyun as only neighbors. It’s a matter of time until this comes up, “Nope, I haven’t seen them since I left for college, haven’t talked to them for basically as long.”

You obviously knew you were a little different when you skipped right from sixth grade into high school, but it didn’t register until you were applying to colleges alongside kids that were almost twice your age and counselors were fawning over your resume, that your parents and siblings were there for…. like, none of it. Never talked about it, never asked you how you were feeling, never seemed to care. You knew they found you different as well, the runt of the litter in more ways than one - too smart, too unrefined, too quiet, too… much.

Your sister graduated from Auburn and the next month you moved to New Haven and your university-appointed proxy guardian watched you cry while you unpacked your boxes in the dorm because your family couldn’t be bothered to stay and help. The first Thanksgiving back, your sister was asked how she and her boyfriend were doing in their first New York City apartment, your brother was asked how he was liking his promotion, and no one asked how your first semester in college went.

You didn’t go home for Christmas.

From then on you kind of just… moved on, which sounds farcical for a teen to do. You took your classes and did your homework and had dinner with the lady who watched over you. She taught art so sometimes you’d paint with her, and when your professors told you you’d do well in medical school you applied. You did the same thing all over again for the next four years. And when you invited your family to your med school graduation, they didn’t come, and that was the end of it.

As you extract yourself from the fading fog of the memories you’ve already forgotten, you see Jaehyun crying for the first time. He’s a pretty crier, which seems to fit in with the rest of him - the teardrops fall one at a time so they each have their own solo moment in the spotlight. All your ragged lungs can do is laugh in disbelief that he’s that moved by your life to be upset.

You knock your knee against his, the roles reversed here, and soothe him, “Don’t cry, I think I'm pretty well adjusted for an adult. Not to mention, they really stressed me out from what I remember.”

Your parents lived in the richest part of Brooklyn and exerted so much micro influence on their social circle that you spent the first few years of your childhood wondering why your father wasn’t the president of the country.

In contrast, you were reserved and shy and couldn’t keep up any kind of conversation with the girls who were your age. You avoided them and your siblings and stuck close to your sister’s super smart boyfriend instead. You’d manage a tiny giggle when he would sneak you snacks you weren’t supposed to eat and sometimes you could finish his homework before he could. You still tried your best to change yourself into being what they liked, accepted all the invites to birthday parties and bat mitzvahs before you left, always went to the country club, made a list in your journal of jokes your teachers liked so maybe your parents and their friends would too.

All of it was extremely challenging and unsuccessful for you since you were a child.

Perhaps that’s part of the reason you’re both so strongheaded... yet also fold immediately whenever an authority figure asks you for something.

Jaehyun’s lips wobble and you know he’s about to sob, his country boy heart shining through, so you warn him, “Please, like, don’t go looking for them or anything.”

You wouldn’t put it past Jaehyun to get an idea in his head to play the gallant hero and fly himself to Brooklyn, then sob on the street corners in hopes of finding your family and fixing this. But you don’t want it to be fixed. They made it more than clear they didn’t care about you when they skipped all three graduations of yours in a row.

You allow yourself to think about looking for them exactly one time a year, and if you think too hard for too long you get sick and have to take a long nap to get over it. You really need to make sure that he knows not to cross this boundary of yours, otherwise he’ll see a side of you that he won’t like to experience.

You look at him, as dead serious as ever, and prompt, “Swear on your family and your pig daughter you won’t.”

He seems like someone who would take that kind of thing seriously.

Jaehyun holds up his first three fingers in a boy scout’s salute, and swears through sniffles, “I s-swear,” before he starts crying softly again, “D-don’t tell me you have no friends, either.”

Okay, that just feels pointed.

You open your mouth to begin a self-defending protestation, because surely you have friends, like Yuta!…. whose job is to make sure he’s nice to you to get his yearly bonus. The Chinese food man!…. whose job is to make sure he’s nice to you so you buy his chicken lo mein. And……. Minho? You wouldn’t characterize him as your friend, per se, especially if you took away the sex. Like, you’d never sit together and just talk about stuff other than work.

“Um, no?” you answer.

You don’t really have friends, and you don’t really care. You don’t have time for it anyways.

Jaehyun, he, there’s no other word for it other than howls. He collapses into a tiny ball as he holds his head and the worry comes pouring out, “What! How do you survive!” When your only answer for his question is a shrug, he gets more and more ridiculous, “Just on the pure strength of your womanly successes and beauty alone? How do you do it?!”

He is being dramatic and grandstanding but part of you continues to be moved that he’s so bothered at all of your life’s failures.

“It’s cool,” you retort, trying to remain as laid-back as possible so he takes the cue and calms down. “They’d either have to live with me or be at the hospital and neither of those is happening. I don’t want to go looking for a friend, either, so unless I'm handed a one on a silver platter, I’m really cool with it.”

That’s the only part of having a boyfriend that you want - a built in best friend that you could spend your precious free time with and feel as if it was worth it. Since Minho spent all of his time at the hospital too, it made sense that you gravitated towards him as the best option.

“Yooooo!” You can’t handle this man and his whiplashing moods. There’s no tears left on Jaehyun’s face now as he sits up on the couch and gets his phone out with a smile, “You know what I saw on the bus the other day? An app that makes you friends, it’s called Bumble BFF. The ad was yellow and that’s my favorite color.”

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, you’ve seen those ads on the bus stop in front of the hospital! Nothing good can come from a dating app that was repurposed into an app to make friends. Utter dread. Small talk insanity. Stranger danger. Hello?! Not everyone in the world is as nice as him!

Immediately you say to him, “No.”

The response you’re met with is the egregious snap of Jaehyun’s camera as he raises his phone and takes a picture of you when you’re caught off guard.

You start to panic, “No, please, no! No, don’t do it!”

The truth is, you’d be a very bad friend. You don’t want to subject anyone to that.

You try to grab the phone from him but he sticks one arm out and the steel of muscle that you slam against is enough to keep you at bay. He apologizes yet doesn’t at all,  “Sorry, this is happening. Payback for making me cry.”

His eyes drag from the spot where your knees are touching, past the embroidery on your scrubs, up so they can lock onto yours. You’ve never seen that hue of dark golden amber in someone’s irises before, and you falter under the weight of his stare for a second.

He looks back to his screen with his dimples flared out all the way, and then as he types, he reads what he’s writing in a girly voice that’s supposed to sound like you,  “Hihi! I'm y/n, I'm twenty-nine and a Taurus! I am a super awesome surgeon. Smiley face—, I’m putting a smiley face in,” Wow, good to know he isn’t actually putting in the words smiley face! “I need someone to eat McDonald’s with and who likes sewing.” Jaehyun peeks up, finds you not laughing while he’s about two seconds away from laughing his ass off, and he prods, “Get it? ‘Cause you’re a surgeon? Hehe.”

Good God.

A) that does not sound like you, you’d never start anything with “hihi”
B) that does not sound enticing whatsoever, you’d never swipe on a profile like that
C) that does not appear to be anything you want to engage in!

“Jaehyun, I hate this,” you grumble.

He shoves you off one last time, “Shush. I’m the one doing it for you, look.”

He turns the screen so you can see that god-awful biography he wrote, and—, sure. The biography is still there and even Shakespeare himself couldn’t do a damn thing to help Jaehyun come up with something better.

But…. but.

The picture he put up? The one he snapped just now while you were in a protesting panic?

It turned out to be a really beautiful - and that word is not a word you’d ever use to describe yourself - candid photo of you. The light from the massive wall window hits you just right and makes your scrubs glow emerald, your hair is wisping out of your braids in such a controlled yet haphazard halo, your eyes are all wide in disbelief, which only makes you look more earnest and approachable. Your wondering smile is doused in a half-laugh you can just hear through the screen.

It certainly makes you pause for a moment, and Jaehyun just stares and stares and stares at you staring at it. His mouth presses into his version of a flawless smile, shy dimples the cherries on top of his already cherry-covered cheeks. A photo of him would’ve worked even better for something like this, you're sure. You could tempt women into being your friend by using the possibility they'd get a date with him. Or whatever.

It seems lame to protest after he took probably the nicest picture of you ever, yet you still do - feeling and sounding like a child, “You do know that I’m never going to go, right?……..”

You don’t need an app to find a best friend. You’re good, thanks.

Jaehyun posts your profile to the app with a twirling flourish of his pretty fingers, and then he shrugs. “That’s what you think, but don’t ever count the chickens before they’re hatched!"

At least Google has search results for that metaphor.

But he’s still wrong.

—

The next morning, there isn’t a bag from McDonald’s waiting for you.

It’s a bag from the diner a couple blocks over, the one that makes incredibly large breakfast sandwiches - to the point that you get easily four or five extra patients a month with cardiac episodes induced by their food. One of said sandwiches is waiting for you on the inside, and scrawled across the white butcher paper used to wrap it is a short, five word phrase.

sorry u have no family :(

You let out a barking laugh that rattles the empty hallway, genuinely entertained and happy because the wording is just so awful. Yet... you can feel Jaehyun’s innocent good intentions behind it, which makes the ghosts rattling around in the cages of your heart just a tad quieter today.

tbc.

Chapter Text

Today is not your day.

In the middle of explaining to a lady that you had to take out a lobe of her liver - because her garden rake impaled it past the point of recovery - she pats your head and warbles over you, “You’re so sweet dear, thank you,” before turning to Moon by your side and exclaiming, “Thank you so much for your hard work on my surgery!”

As much as you can’t stand the man, Moon’s face twists in confusion, then he looks at you having no idea what to say. He knows better than to claim credit for a surgery in which he only threw a couple stitches here and there... and only was able to because you decided to stop holding a grudge.

You sigh deeply, used to this from a variety of patients for a variety of reasons, and correct her, “Ma’am, I did the surgery which is why I'm talking to you—,”

Before she interrupts you again, “No, no…. That’s not possible,” and waves Moon over so she can heap the compliments that you deserve at his feet.

She actually pushes you aside to grab at his hands, which makes him visibly uncomfortable. But you don't dare correct her a second time. You bite your tongue and try to be polite to her so that you won’t ruin your reputation with patients - but how dare she assume that the only other male doctor in here is the one who did all the work! Luckily, Wendy the charge nurse calls for you through the open door, "Chief! There's someone here to see you."

With a sarcastic smile, you hand Moon the patient files, happy to gift him extra work in exchange for this complete indignity you’ve been gifted. You walk right by Wendy, expecting there to not be an actual person after assuming she was just trying to get you out of there, but no… she flags you down and points to the waiting room…

...and there’s actually a woman waiting there.

A woman you’ve never seen before in your life - tiny, with beautiful, long black hair and a stunning model face. You’re so focused trying to figure out what someone like that is doing here, you don’t notice until way after that she’s wearing maroon scrubs. She must be here for a patient history or a consult, but you’re also pretty sure every doctor at Mayo wears the same green scrubs you do, unless they’re the red scrubs of the cardio department.

You walk right over and feel the need to straighten out your braids when she sees you, and then… she breaks out into the nicest smile. “y/n?”

You’re………… baffled.

Why is she not addressing you by your title? Did everyone just hit their heads this morning and decide not to give you the respect you deserve—,

“Sorry, Dr. y/l/n?” she amends, squinting at the embroidery on your scrubs. You feel like an asshole for not realizing she just didn’t know your name, then she sticks out her hand and introduces herself, “I’m Dr. Seulgi Kang, I'm a second year resident at UM, specializing in OB/GYN.”

You shake her hand, but you know you haven’t handed over any external OB/GYN cases recently - the last emergency delivery you were on stayed in house at Mayo for a fetal heart transplant that you did with Chief Suh. Maybe it’s just gotten lost in the slog of cases you’ve completed this month since the Surgeon General news came out. So you humble yourself a little and request, “Please give me a second so I can look up your name in my case logs. I’ve been doing triple the amount of surgeries lately and most likely forgot-,”

“No,” Seulgi interrupts you, and then gets all awkward when you stare at her in frustration after being interrupted this whole day.  Her hand shakes just a little when she holds up her phone - she’s definitely not a surgeon - and then she shows you the reason why she’s here, “You messaged me on Bumble BFF right now and said you were free…. for McGriddles? Does your hospital really have a McDonald’s?”

She looks around the Mayo interior for the fast food chain that you’d kill to have at your fingertips (so then you’d never have to leave the hospital) and you peek at her screen while she does. You see the stupid ass picture of yourself at the top and feel your chest go all funny, before it sours when you read the long message exchange 'you' were having with her.

Where you’ve used a bunch of !!!!!!!!!!!! and :) to punctuate your invitation to hang out, including most notably, OMG, girl!!!!!! I love your hair!!!!!!!!!! :)

You’re going to kill Jaehyun when you see him next.

Seulgi shrugs, not remotely as embarrassed about this as you are, and explains, “My next mom isn’t due for the a few hours so I figured why not? I moved here with my boyfriend last year and I thought that having at least one female friend might be nice.”

She seems so sweet, like genuinely a good person with a good heart - rare amongst the halls here where everyone is too driven by ambition to care. Yourself included. You’re miffed that you’re going to have to let her down, and miffed that Jaehyun being annoying is causing you annoyance in return. To top it all off, you hear the distinct timbre of Lee’s.... ugh. Jeno, you’re working on it. Jeno's voice calls after you, Doc D, we need—, and then he falls silent when he sees that you’re in the middle of a conversation.

It’s cool, this conversation is about to be over anyways.

You shake your head and deny her, “Sorry, I can’t.”

You can’t take time for McDonald’s when your department would fall into pieces if you left.

“Wow!” She’s preoccupied staring at the line of your maggots hovering and laughs to herself with a bit of well-intentioned jealousy, “Your class must be really tight if they’re asking you for help, hmm?”

It seriously takes you a second to figure out what Seulgi is saying, because you haven’t thought about your classmate of interns for almost a decade - you barely interact with any of them now, since none of them were hardcore enough to declare trauma. Then, you realize that she thinks you're classmates with your interns, and that you’re all friendly enough to be assisting one another with your work.

You glance down at your scrubs and see that in the haze of having sex with Minho in your office this morning, you put on the scrub top saved from your years as an attending, which doesn’t have your official title on it. So you sigh again and try to not sound like an arrogant douchebag, “I’m the chief of trauma here, and they’re actually just my clueless interns.”

Seulgi is just as shocked as anyone is when she finds out your age. She tries not to show it but ends up gaping at your face and trying to figure out why you don’t look old, “B-but your profile said you were twenty-nine, just like me!”

You suppose this really is a rare case when even your professional peers are baffled.

“It’s a whole saga that I wish I could explain but I can’t,” you side-step the question that she didn’t ask - how? - because you can’t waste time explaining it to someone you’ll never see again. You give Seulgi a polite smile then do the right thing and apologize, “I’m sorry about the whole profile thing. My annoying neighbor made one because he thought I didn’t have any friends and you were the unfortunate victim.” You end up having to fight the smile regardless, because thinking of Jaehyun messaging her is as hilarious as it is infuriating. So you just bite your cheek and become appropriately serious, “Sorry. Hope your residency goes well. If you ever need professional advice the secretaries can give you my pager number.”

You honestly don’t have time to answer non-emergency pages, but that’s the only thing you can offer to soothe the wounds of rejection. Seulgi looks so disappointed yet understanding and this is too much like rejecting a date - what was Bumble even thinking marketing this as a 'friends app?!'

You’re really going to kill Jaehyun when you get home.

—

Except……

When you’re in the hallway at home, Jaehyun peeks his head out of his apartment first, and his face is so shiny and red with excitement that you nearly forget why you’re angry. He asks you, with his eyes lit up in devious innocence, “Did anything fun happen to you today?”

Why is your first instinct to give up on the lecture you were going to give him? He did this out of zero malice, and the kind of angered, shouting, stupendous reaction you’re reserving does not seem necessary.

You lean against the frame of your door and sigh like you’re a parent scolding a child who’s discovered the internet for the first time, “You cannot just send random people to the hospital to meet me! It’s insane!” What if he sent you some random serial killer? Or worse, what if he sent someone who actually wanted to hang out and couldn’t understand the demands of your profession!

Jaehyun’s lip sticks as far out as it can go in a pout, and he whines, “But you said….”

“I meant, like, a friend who already worked at the hospital.” You know what you said and you meant it in the context of a specific person since your brain was slightly aroused and not thinking straight. There are rules at your workplace and what happened today wasn’t exactly within them, “People just can’t show up to the hospital in the middle of the day unless it’s a significant other or it’s an emergency.”

You’ve never had a significant other to have an emergency with, let alone one who wanted to come to the hospital to just say hello (on call rooms don’t count). There’s no one else you want showing up at your place of work, so you need Jaehyun to help you keep it that way.

You catch the moment his dimples twitch with his desire to argue, and though he tries valiantly to respect you, he ends up bursting, “But she was another doctor! I picked her out on purpose!” You honestly didn’t expect him to go through any logical thought process - he strikes you as a serial swiper - yet Jaehyun explains said thought process in great detail, “I thought, huh, you can barely tolerate me, so how could you tolerate just another regular person!”

He picked out another doctor for you to hang out with on purpose?

Your heart gives this weird beat in your chest that feels like an arrhythmia, but its cadence is one you can’t register off the top of your head. You’re able to read almost all cardiac episodes off your hearing alone, and for a moment, you’re legitimately concerned that you might have a physical problem. But then the arrhythmia doesn’t return, and when you press a quick hand to your chest, your heartbeat is as reliable as always.

As nice as you possibly can, which is quite a feat, you ask, “Can you please shut the profile down?” His face falls into another scrunched up pout, and you feel obliged to give Jaehyun a striking note of honesty to get him to understand, “I appreciate it, it’s kind of you to look out for me like that. But I don’t think I'm a very good friend. I can’t give anyone anything more than what I can give myself.”

It’s not worth the effort to put in the time and energy to become close with someone when it’s never returned in the same amount. Friendships for you always feel disappointing and disproportionate, stemming from years of being socially stunted, too young and too shy to approach anyone who was going through life at the same pace you were. You can honestly say that even as an adult, you don’t think you’ve ever had a close friend. It is too much work amongst your busy schedule and everyone ends up inevitably finding you too intense to stick around.

Even Minho, who is over ten years older than you and accomplished in his own right, takes more than he gives in your relationship.

“But I give you sandwiches and you give me treats,” Jaehyun points out, descending into his happiest, puppiest, most country boy state. To him, it is the most obvious thing in the world to think that being in an equal friendship involves only the basic exchanges of goods that you’ve been engaging in.

And surprisingly, you don’t have an argument against him. Or…. you at least don’t have an argument that isn't mean. And you don’t want to be mean to Jaehyun when he was just trying to help you.

“You better not message any more women,” you grumble, at the crossroads between serious and teasing since that’s the only thing he’ll respond to. “Otherwise I'm going to have to kick you out from my one friend spot—,”

“Oh!” Jaehyun yelps over the end of your sentence. And in the blink of an eye he’s pulling out his phone and scrambling for the Bumble app, thumbs twitching as fast as they can to get to the settings and delete your profile off the face of the earth.

You end up chiding him through your giggles, “You didn’t have to do that!”

He took it so literally!

“Yes I do.” Jaehyun get all serious for a second... before his nose scrunches up with literal delight as he dares to cross the threshold of the hallway to poke your cheek. “I'm your friendddddddddd and that’s speciaaaalllllllllllllll.”

You try to feel annoyed that he’s making fun of you, but there’s no annoyance to be found. Just acceptance.

—

Before you go to bed, you think for a good ten minutes about listening to your heart rhythm with your stethoscope, just in case that strange arrhythmia from earlier shows up again. You fall asleep before you decide, too tired to continue the debate for any longer, but you check your pulse with your fingers when you wake up for water in the middle of the night. Just to make sure.

It’s even for now, but you’ll stay on alert.

And in the morning, your breakfast sandwich has two smileys drawn on it - one with two dimples and one with two braids - and the note says, For my friend, last word underlined in a great big flourish.You make a reminder in your phone to send your interns to that cupcake place in downtown Minneapolis that puts candy in the center of their baked goods. He’ll love that one.

—

Zhang calls you on your way home from the hospital. It is beyond irritating that he dares to bother your free time, considering you just finished a twelve-hour surgery with him on a guy who fucked up his entire leg in a bad bike accident.

You don’t want to talk to him any more than you have to, so you answer and keep it curt without greeting, “Yeah, if it dies any more just amputate it without me.” And since Zhang was involved in making your interns’ lives hell, you make sure to clarify that he won’t be getting the first solo surgery of his resident class, “Give the solo surgery to Bae, no arguing–,”

There’s a noise of disgust, and when you turn, you see you walked past the completely open door of Jaehyun’s house, and a bunch of people inside just heard your conversation. He’s there in the middle of the commotion, wearing these khaki pants and a plaid shirt that are pretty much country boy personified. He’s surrounded by a bunch of girls that all vaguely look like him, who must be his sisters, and off to the side by the oven is an older woman who must be their mother - judging from the apron she's wearing and the way she somehow looks like all of them combined.

You’re stuck there awkwardly standing in the hallway, contemplating why they all are staring at you with the same identical expression of distaste. The girls are wearing matching plaid skirts too, and you glance down at your scrubs and think that might be why—, Oh. The amputations.

You lower your phone from your ear with a sheepish smile of apology and mumble, “Yeah, sorry you had to hear that, I'm a doctor.”

That somehow doesn’t help. In fact, realizing you were talking about actual amputations makes the girls look sicker.

Jaehyun parts the crowd of his siblings to run out in the hallway, throw an arm around you, and qualify your statement, “Only the most awesome doctor on the face of the earth! The trauma queen of trauma! My neighbor! And most importantly, my friend!” You think that he might attempt to announce to every single person in Minneapolis that you’re his friend, and you feel so small and uncomfortable… yet not.. under his arm. He beams at you, beams at the girls, beams all over, and announces, “This is my family! I told you about them!”

He tugs you into his apartment and you have no choice to get out of it despite the nerves beginning to billow - you don’t do well with families, let alone big families. But he looks so proud and excited to show them off, beckoning them to stand in a practiced line in front of him.

Then, you have to stand there like you paid for a night at the theater, and watch him do this performance of an introduction.

Let's see if you remember this right.

A) His mother, who you find out is cooking biscuits and gravy for dinner, runs the entire farm in Macon. Their staple crops are chickpeas and peaches and they’re the top producers of them in their area. She’s nice enough to give you the standard How do you do, but is otherwise no-nonsense and southern traditional. You certainly don’t miss the pointed glances she gives your scrubs.

B) Yuri and C) Juhyun and D) Soojung are the oldest of the bunch, in that order. The first two have the same beautiful, thick black hair that Jaehyun must’ve had before he dyed his, and it’s fitting that they run a hair salon chain that is highly popular in both LA and New York. Soojung is his Irish twin but if all the happiness was sucked out of him at the same time, all dark glares and muttered responses that end with you finding out she’s a lawyer on Capitol Hill.

Then, amongst his younger sisters... there’s E) Yerim who lives in London and is on the Prime Minister’s staff and doesn’t bother to shake your hand (that doesn’t seem like a British tradition like she claims). F) Jimin, a student at USC and also a video game model - which makes sense with a stunning face like hers - who doesn’t have a home base since she’s always traveling. And G) Minjeong, the baby, is a freshman at Harvard studying psychology. You just know you’re ripe for her to pick apart.

This should’ve come with a Powerpoint. How on earth are you supposed to keep all of these faces straight, let alone names, let alone professions?!

You wave awkwardly, because them together in this line is like you’re being accosted by the Charlie’s Angels of intimidation - even the youngest ones wear the same expression of universal dislike that the older ones are. You don’t understand how Jaehyun ended up in the middle of this, sweet as cotton candy, but maybe he’s what glues them together.

“Hi, I'm y/n,” you introduce yourself so Jaehyun won’t say something ridiculous about you. “I won’t make you call me doctor.” You try cracking the joke and it falls flat and dead. Not a single one of them laughs, except for Jaehyun, who has to hold a hand over his mouth to hide his giggles... yet not his dimples.

Yeesh, tough crowd.

You did say you weren’t good with families. Though you’re getting the feeling that this one is extra protective of the innocent boy - man, Jaehyun is still a man, he’s thirty! - in the center of it all.

Case in point, Jaehyun doesn’t read any of his sisters’ distaste towards having an intruder at their family dinner. He squishes himself between Soojung and Yerim and then announces to you, “I'm Jaehyun, I play football, and you know that!”

That gets the youngest two to giggle like he’s the greatest thing in the world to them, and as soon as they giggle, the older ones start to soften. You can tell by how he glances back and forth between the groups that he only said something that silly to ease the tension here.

His mother calls from the stove right after, “He’s the egg salad in the middle of our sandwich,” and that makes him all giggly and shy. You don’t know exactly what that metaphor means though… something about the two bread pieces being crusty and dry and he’s the seasoned bright filling? You don’t know, you’re a surgeon, not a chef.

Across the couch, there are seven purple 77 jerseys lined up in order like the girls were just lined up, and you vaguely remember what he told you, “You’re here for the game?”

You honestly have no idea what day of the week it is right now, but you figure that’s why.

“Of course, the first Sunday in September is a holy Sunday.” Jaehyun’s mother has lost you there if she’s about to talk about religion, considering you make fun of God all the time. But then she continues on and somehow loses you further, “First football Sunday of the year is one we always have circled.”

At first you think it’s just his mom that holds that attitude, to show her son that she supports him. But then the girls start chattering about how they're excited to go to the new stadium and sitting in their suite, and how it’s finally an excuse for them to get together and have fun instead of work. In your idle imagination, you find yourself relating to these girls that have to force themselves to take time away from their careers just to support someone they love.

Or maybe you can’t relate, since you’ve never done that for anyone.

Yuri is almost as tall as Jaehyun is, tall enough to grab him in a headlock and mess up his hair as she explains the gathering to you, “He’s played for our hometown Falcons his whole career and this is too! far away from Georgia, but we’re excited and we’re making it work.” She twists his ear particularly hard and he whine-giggles as she teases him, “Not long now until you’re back home, Jaeggy. Can’t wait!”

As soon as the eldest mentions Jaehyun returning home, the rest of his sisters, save for a sullen Soojung on her phone, clamor around him. The chatter picks up as they get excited over the prospect of him retiring and spending the rest of his life there on the farm that…. none of them live on. Jaehyun doesn’t look very happy when they bring it up - noticeable because his baseline existence is pure joy, and at best he seems eh about it - but he nods along to make them happy.

An elegant, yet panicked cry echoes through the still-open door of his apartment, “Wait, don’t start dinner without me!”

A beautiful red-haired woman in a pink tracksuit, with a pink purse and a pink suitcase, comes running into Jaehyun’s home, and the first thing she does is head straight into his mother’s arms for a hug. You’ve never seen this many girls in one place since that cheerleading team got into an accident and came into your ER. There’s a notable mix of reactions to the surprise appearance and since you’re the outsider here, you take note of it for fun.

Juhyun, Yuri, and Jimin all rush to squish the new girl in a group hug with their mother. Minjeong and Yerim just wave at her, and Soojung could not be any less bothered to look up from her phone and pay attention. You suppose this is how it is in large families? Seems like the kind of divide your brother and your sister would have with you.

You’re close enough to Jaehyun that you can lower your voice a little so only he will hear, “Damn, seven sisters?”

No wonder he’s the most soft-hearted man you’ve ever met.

He’s staring at the newcomer talk with the rest of his siblings, and his entire face goes a shade of pink akin to cotton candy. It takes him so much effort to mumble, “That’s my ex-girlfriend, high school sweetheart girl person thing…..”

Ah. Awkward. You file thinking that she was one of his sisters away into the cabinet of things you’re never going to tell Jaehyun about.

The girl's hearing must be attuned to the sound of his voice, because the second Jaehyun says it, she is able to pick up on it even amidst the hug that is still going on. She turns around so happily to flirt with him, “Hi, Jae bae. You’re talking about me, huh?”

Okay, so you may not know everything about dating, but she is obviously still smitten with him. She takes one peek at his face and then cannot look away or stop smiling. You’re not blind, you can tell that even though Jaehyun calls her his ex, she clearly does not want to be.

And then she blinds you when she smiles, giving you a glimpse at her blinding white teeth and shocking red hair and perfect sorority girl, cheerleader aura, “Hi! I’m Yves! We grew up together! And you are?”

You don’t want to go through this song and dance again after his family made you feel weird for just stating facts.

“I’m his neighbor,” you lamely offer up and don’t go any further.

The air congeals when everyone waits for you to elaborate and you don’t want to say anything more. Not to mention watching Jaehyun’s ex with his sisters is a very in-your-face look at what women your age are supposed to be like. You’ve never felt more crusty… and awkward.

Yves gives you a once over - not to be stereotypical, but you’re sure she’s checking for outfit details - then notices your scrubs and exclaims, “Oh, are you a nurse? Thank you for your service!”

God damn.

Jaehyun gets so annoyed so fast you don’t have time to let your own annoyance fester. He puts a hand on his head and groans, “Evie, she’s a doctor, open your eyes and read!”

Yves starts arguing back with him right away, girly and flirty, yet as determined as possible, “I didn’t know! How was I supposed to know!”

You’re stuck in the middle of this argument that is quickly showing you why they are indeed no longer a couple, eyes stuck on the floor so you don’t have to see any of it for yourself. He is… somewhat correct though, it is hard to ignore the M.D. on your scrubs.

Ms. Jeong breaks it up by walking through your corner of the kitchen with her massive platter of biscuits. Never have you been more relieved for a parent to scold their child, “Alright you two, no more of the usual.”

Jaehyun protests while Yves shuts her mouth, and his own mom sticks a warning finger at him to stay silent. Perhaps she's used to this... or the more likely conclusion based on her reaction to his ex’s appearance is that Ms. Jeong wants to keep the peace in the hopes that they get back together. That means you have the perfect moment to lower your head and slink out of the apartment….

….only to find yourself trapped in an iron grip. With so much fear in your body, you turn to see Jaehyun's mother holding the biscuits with one hand so that she can stop you with the other.

Her southern twang comes all the way out when she warns you, “Oh no, you’re not escaping. When the Jeongs come to town everyone eats.”

And even though you give Jaehyun a pleading expression to get him to help you (you thought you were at the point in your friendship where he knew this is the exact kind of thing you hate!), he just shakes his head. And dooms you to experiencing a family dinner for once.

—

The homey feel and the overwhelming countryness of this dinner is way too much for you.

You can’t even remember the last time you sat a table to eat, let alone sat a table with people and ate. So you sit there and bear it with a smile.

Side note: Jaehyun has a massive mahogany dining table?! You don’t even have a dining table in your apartment, half the time you’re eating while running to the hospital or eating in the shower! Why is it so nice and cozy in here, with throw pillows and family photos and a row of slippers by the door?! Are those vanilla candles on the kitchen island?!

Anyways, the worst thing about dinner is that you’re a bystander to all their catching up. You cannot offer anything but silence because you have no idea what they’re talking about!

Jaehyun, in between bites of his biscuits, asks his mom about the War Hawks. Then, you’re thinking about predatory birds eating the baby pigs on his farm until she says they won the summer league and are gearing up for their season. You’re pretty sure that means high school football and you’re trying to wrap your mind around that when a loooooot of gossip about their hometown spills across the table.

According to Juhyun, Jihyo and Daniel got divorced (because of too many problems at their sunflower farm), Jimin reveals that Felix decided to go back to Australia (too little vegemite available in Georgia), and Minjeong is bursting at the opportunity to announce that Justina Bieber finally became a woman. You choke into your gravy when you find out that doesn’t mean an actual person, that means their youngest chicken just laid her first egg.

And it doesn’t take long for Yuri to turn a sly eye towards her only brother and add on, “What do you know, Jaeggy, Momo’s single again!”

“Yup,” Jimin affirms, “her aggressively old ex-boyfriend peaced out to date someone even younger!”

Jaehyun goes bright red, the color funny and clashing against the red plaid of his shirt, while Yerim and Minjeong poke at him and tease that he needs to hurry home. He holds his hands up in the hopes that he’ll get them to stop, and that doesn't work, so he resorts to whining and whining for his mom to intervene. You just sit there and eat, intrigued by all of this.

Yves cuts in as soon as Minjeong starts dialing on her phone for this Momo person, “Well, sure. But Jae bae, you should know that Momo told me she’s already talking to someone new.”

When Jaehyun’s shoulders and face bow in relief that they’re not going to pressure him into talking to this girl from their hometown he doesn’t seem to like, you watch as Yves’s eyes light up with opportunity and happiness. It’s clear to you she wasn’t partaking in the gossip just to gossip, she was clearing a path to keep him single.

“Maybe if you came home more, Jae, you’d know about this,” she teases. “Or if you even answered your messages!”

Weird. Jaehyun is like, the nicest person alive, and is also always on his phone when you’re spending time together. Why doesn’t he care enough to answer the messages of this girl that obviously is still in love with him?

Through your observations, it’s also noticeable that their breakup wasn’t catastrophic. At least not catastrophic enough to stop Ms. Jeong from babying Yves, giving her all the food she wants first and fixing her hair, pinching her cheek, etc. You were kind of right when you said he had seven sisters, Yves feels like a sister-in-law.

Soojung spots Jaehyun’s concealed annoyance - aka he smiles and there’s no dimples showing - and then grumbles, “Can we please move on?” There’s a moment of silence where everyone is taken aback by her gruffness, and the scrape of your spoon against your admittedly delicious food rings out a bit loudly. That calls her attention over to you, “How long have you been in Minnesota?”

“Ten years,” you answer, and just so Jaehyun doesn’t feel obliged to do it, you clarify further, “I’m from Brooklyn, moved here after med school.”

You know they don’t care enough about you to ask for more details, which is a win.

“You don’t look like you’re almost forty,” Minjeong blurts in the exact same way that Jaehyun had. He puts his head in his hands in embarrassment that this happened again, but she’s not remotely ashamed for pointing it out like he was, “My professors at Harvard say that I should express myself freely.”

Why does she sound like you did when you were fresh out of med school? Why do the glares Minjeong's sisters give her to shut up remind you of glaring at your interns? Why does the noise of annoyance that comes from Ms. Jeong at the head of the table, waiting for your answer to the unasked question, sound just like the annoyed scoffs you make at work when you’re waiting for someone dumb to respond?

“Um, I'm twenty-nine?” you sound dumber than ever when you can’t even say your own age without it coming out as a question. “I skipped a bunch of grades in school.”

At this point, you honestly feel like if you explain what happened they’re going to throw farm-fresh tomatoes at you for bragging.

“Skipped a grade? You skipped like half of them!” Yuri laughs out loud, and doesn’t seem to care that Jaehyun keeps nudging her elbow to get her to not be rude. “Are you sure you’re qualified to be a doctor? When’d you go to college, sixteen?”

You’re used to being in an operating room with all eyes on you. But here at this dinner table, with eight gazes of wonder and one of apology honed your way, you feel a bead of sweat drip down your back. You’re about to get into the nitty-gritty details of your weird-ass life, and you’re fairly confident that the way Jaehyun reacted is not how the rest of his family will.

“Thirteen,” you answer, and brace yourself for it.

“And your parents let you?” Yves breaks the silence so innocently, and you feel the sweat dry up because you’re…. You’re okay with that response. Of course she’d ask that, you’d think any normal person would hear the details and get confused as to how it happened.

But when every single person in the room save for Jaehyun then stares at you like you’re a crazy person - you can read the WTF were your parents thinking in Ms. Jeong’s face - the nerves explode in your chest. Your fingers twist up into your napkin, your breathing escalates close to hyperventilation, and this kind of panicked reaction is so rare for you upon discussing this matter nowadays. You try your best to never bring it up and no one in the hospital cares enough to ask (Minho doesn’t even know all of it!)... which means Jaehyun is pretty much the only person ever who's known the full truth.

While he did freak out upon learning it, it didn’t feel like he did so in a judgmental way.

Even now, his focus is on you and you only. Jaehyun is somehow able to read your discomfort without you saying or doing anything further, and completely derails the conversation, “Well, not only is she a surgeon, she wants to be the general surgeon!”

Huh? Your main speciality is trauma and your sub-speciality is general…. oh. He didn’t mean general surgeon, as in your specialty is general surgery.

Your mouth curves up in a tiny, tiny, tinytinytiny amused smile and you correct him, “No, a general surgeon is someone who deals with internal organs, which is my second specialty. I want to be the Surgeon General, a member of the US government that leads the country during public health crises.”

Jaehyun nods, then takes out his phone and starts typing away to remember the title you want so he won’t mess it up again. It’s funny to you that he remembered though, because you don’t recall telling him.

Soojung’s interest is finally piqued at the tangential mention of her place of work, enough to put her phone down and wonder, “Aren’t you just a surgeon though?”

“I’ve consulted the president’s team before. I'm on a short list,” you answer, as humble as you can be.

There haven’t been any interviews or announcements yet, but it’s a forgone conclusion that you're going to get the job. Why else would the Department of Health and Human Services continually consult you about various accident prevention initiatives? Or their congressional committee reaching out to discuss legislation that would prevent reckless traumatic incidents rising across the country? Or the time you spent on a panel discussing America's pandemic prevention since they needed a surgical perspective? There's no point in involving you in all those decisions unless they saw a future with you involved.

“Wow, congrats!” Jaehyun is a bit more pointed and forceful than usual with his comment, then starts a round of applause while glaring at his sisters to join in. You get so embarrassed your cheeks start to burn when none of them clap, not even his mother, but he happily continues on until he’s satisfied, then he gives you a hidden thumbs up that only you can see.

Ms. Jeong pushes the plate of gravy back in front of him and orders, “Just eat your food, honey,” and he immediately obeys and begins eating. Relieved that he won’t do something as embarrassing again, you watch as she reaches out to smooth out the hair by his ear and softly says, “You need to have a good last season so that everyone will want to come to the farm after. It really needs you, you know, I'm not getting any younger and your sisters are not getting any less busy.”

Jaehyun nods but keeps his head down and eats his gravy as fast as he can so he doesn’t have a free moment to respond to his mother’s coaxing. He looks just as uncomfortable as you did a second ago when they were interrogating you about your past.

They all chime in and agree with her on various levels, from Yuri shaking his arm to Soojung rolling her eyes, culminating in a shared plea of, “Jae, she needs you!”

It doesn’t feel as tender and well-intentioned as the encouraging persuasion his mother used. It comes across as weird and… guilt trippy.

And Jaehyun takes it that way too, he puts his spoon down with a clatter and grumbles, “Well, why don’t you ask Evie to help you since she’s always around." His lip curls in his attempt at a snarl, but it just ends up looking like he's pouting again.

Yves blushes and looks away right when he says it, which means she’s been hanging around their farm house after their breakup and he’s told her to stop plenty of times.

“Better yet, you two should just get back together!” Juhyun teases as she nudges her almost sister and Yves blushes. Yerim claps along and pokes at her brother at the same time, “Yeah, just do it Jaeggy! We’ve been waiting for another sister for forever!”

This is drama you should not be privy to.

You glance down at your plate and the food is gone before anyone else’s is because you’ve spent this whole time shoveling the gravy into your mouth without reserve. And it’s only then that you realize Jaehyun’s plate looks funny because his gravy must not have meat in it, and you laugh into your next spoonful.

How funny is it that he got all the sweetness that the girls should’ve gotten?

Your laugh must’ve been louder than you thought, because the next time you glance up, everyone is staring at you. The tension could be cut with a scalpel, you’re sure all of them want to know why you’re laughing. It’s not like you can say what you’re actually thinking… because that would be more embarrassing than anything else that’s happened tonight.

“I, I'm not… I'm just….” You fumble about as you try to come up with some sort of response, then Yves cocks her head in a way that makes her look like a perfect Barbie doll. You have your solution - a sheepish smile her way and an even more sheepish apology, “Sorry, I can’t imagine you milking a cow.”

Which is true, her nails are about five inches long. How can she do anything with those?

“Oh, I don’t,” Yves waves it off with a nice flip of her hair, before she really turns the flirting on, points the big eyes and pleading smile Jaehyun’s way, “But I’d be the perfect farm wife. I know how to cook and bake everything from Jae’s mama. Always thought it would be me.”

You don’t know what Jaehyun looks like when he’s mad, yet this is probably very close. With his forehead wrinkled in deep-set anxiety, he attempts to stare at anything but his ex and ends up locking his gaze towards the salt shaker on the kitchen counter the complete opposite way. She hit a nerve, but you don’t know why.

“Why isn’t it her, huh, Jae!” Jimin pleads as she reaches to grab his hand, and gets their mother to do the same, “We never knew why you guys broke up, so just fix things! We can all go to the game as a family tomorrow and tailgate–,"

He explodes out of nowhere, “Well, who knows, maybe I’m dating someone!”

You have no idea what the fuck Jaehyun is talking about - if he had a real girlfriend he would’ve blabbed it to you by now with how much he blabs about everything in his life… Uh, what is he doing, what is he doing, he’s getting up from his spot at the table to come by your side and throw an arm around your shoulders. His entire family and his ex-girlfriend stare at the two of you and your internal organs twist themselves up into an unsolvable knot.

You don’t move and Jaehyun doesn’t let go.

He stares back at his ex-girlfriend and though the sarcasm fits uncomfortably into the deep valleys of his voice, he makes sure it’s there, “Evie, oops, sorry! Maybe I don’t want to get back together with you because I’m seeing y/n!,” before he faces Jimin and grumble-growls, “And maybe the tailgate has to be just the family because she has work and can't make it!”

You’re shaken like that salt shaker, insides now at a level of torque that you can only undo with surgery. Jaehyun gets even madder when his family continues staring at him in surprise and doesn’t say anything in response. Not to mention that Yves does not seem to register one bit that he outright rejected her and still has a ton of desperate yearning in her eyes. You’re freed from the trap of confrontation when Jaehyun lets go of you and storms off. And when they look at you for answers regarding that outburst, you’re just as confused as they are.

What is going on?

They can’t honestly think that… that he’s serious? He was obviously messing around, considering he’s him… and you’re very much not that at all.

“Haha?” your laugh comes out as the most befuddled question you’ve ever had to pose, and then you whisper to yourself, “What the fuck?”

All you can do is scrape the gravy you have left onto your spoon and stuff it right into your mouth.

—

Everyone makes excuses to prep the desserts after the catastrophe tempers into a noxious coating of anxiety. You don’t think his mother’s invitation for dinner is going to extend to the pie she’s baking, so you get up awkwardly and give the closest sister (you think you forgot all their names in the past two seconds) a smile that you don’t think she sees. Then you make your Irish exit quickly. Really fucking quickly.

What would you even say in parting? Got to go, bye, hope to never see you again!

That would honestly work.

Because even though the sister just older than him (again, capacity for name remembering is gone) didn’t seem to totally hate your guts, the rest of them… yikes? They were mean? And you don’t even know what to say about his ex beyond the observation that she appeared to be the kind of girl  content to patiently wait until Jaehyun got his shit together and married her.

Speaking of Jaehyun getting his shit together….

The confusion levels in your body poke at the rage lying in wait, and instead of going home, you turn down the empty hallway to go find him. You need to ask him just what the fuck was going on in his happy little brain to do any of that.

You make it into the lobby and hear his deep laughter from the employee office right away, beckoning you like a lighthouse for your anger. You storm over to see…. Jaehyun sitting in a desk chair and spinning himself around with Yuta’s help, with two of the free lollipops they give to the kids sticking out of his mouth as walrus tusks. You get unfathomably furious when he smiles and waves at you like nothing’s wrong.

You gesture a confused Yuta out of there, and slam the door closed so you can accost Jaehyun in private, “What in the fuck is wrong with you!”

How could he do something so crazy! How could he subject you to all of that, and above all, how could he leave you alone with his family when he knows you have a problem with that!

Jaehyun takes out the lollipops one by one, blue raspberry and strawberry leaving his lips stained a pretty hue of lilac, and then he says, “I can explain.”

“You better,” you snap. “Otherwise I'm going to start thinking the farm you live on is a crazy farm!”

Where did he even get the idea to pretend that you were dating! This isn’t a Netflix show!

“Don’t you dare talk about the farm,” Jaehyun snaps back - an actual stinging barb that catches you off guard.

He gets all serious and stern then and tries to glare at you (just like a little puppy trying to yap and bite). You roll your eyes because he doesn’t have the remote right to tell you what to do after he pulled that insane stunt. You barely passed your psych rotation but that whole dinner reeked of family issues and you don’t want to get involved in any more family issues—,

“Fine, okay, sheesh! I don’t want to settle down and live on the farm and do what everyone expects of me after football!”

Jaehyun yells it at you then covers his mouth with his hands when he realizes what he’s done, sinking low in the chair as you stand there with your eyes wide open. He just unleashed a culmination of tension from not only that entire dinner, but from maybe the past ten years of his life - if his shaking clues you into anything. That means you’re probably the first person he’s ever told - er, screamed at - about it.

No idea now how to navigate this. You sink down slowly on the corner of the desk and try to recall back to that damn psych rotation, “Okay. Why is that?”

“I don’t know!” The dam has been broken for him, and now Jaehyun is not going to let up until he gets all of it out, “I don’t know and it makes it feel worse. Because Mama has been alone since Minjeong was born…”

Whoa, that is just about as personal as he can get, and fucking notable considering his father’s absence among… all of this.

“My sisters are grown up and successful and there’s no time for anyone to go home and help except for old me. If there's no help, we risk losing the farm.” He says it with such pure yet foreign sadness you want to tell him to never do that again. Hearing him sad makes you uncomfortable, and watching him be sad is even worse, “I love my mom and I want to help her so she can retire but I just don’t. But Yuri says I have to because football is a dipsosable procession.”

He frowns to the deepest depths his mouth can go. But somewhere inside your usually cold heart, you feel airy with soft amusement as you ask him, “Disposable profession?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

And while you perhaps might agree that organized sports do not compare to any real work that requires extensive years of schooling (yes, like surgery) you think it’s quite rude of his oldest sister to dismiss his obvious passion.

“Why don’t you get that nice girl to help you? She seems like she would?” you wonder out loud.

Even though they’re broken up, you don’t know… they seem like they fit. Dumb and hot and really, really nice.

“Football star and cheerleader getting together and being together for over ten years and then breaking up is not nice,” Jaehyun mumbles, not sad but not happy. “This isn’t an episode of Glee.”

“What the fuck is glee?” you mutter to yourself.

His references go over your head so many times you think there’s a whole world out there you’re not living. You’re sure it’s the same in reverse.

“Never mind. It’s not what I want,” Jaehyun states, with bluntness and dark conviction that uncovers the length of time he must’ve been ruminating over this. To be honest, it strikes a deep note in you that feels all too familiar - the discordant harmony of moving on that tuned your life when you were a teen.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

It's a question you were never asked.

"I'm fine, it happened in March when I got traded at the draft. She didn’t want to come here because she didn’t want to leave our hometown. And so I broke up with her 'cause why would I want to be with someone who didn’t….” Jaehyun loses steam in the middle of his explanation as he squints through the air and hopes the words will materialize for him, “Like, I don’t know. Why didn’t she want to at least try out Minnesota? Why do I have to be by myself? Why can’t I have someone who supports me?” You feel legitimately upset on his behalf as he puts his face in his hands, and while he doesn’t start crying like he usually does - a symptom of sitting on this for a long time - his dimples stretch in his frown when he admits, “I don’t want to…. I don’t want to be stuck taking care of everyone. I love doing it but.... but how do I put that into words?”

Why do I have to be by myself? Why can’t I have someone who supports me?

Your heart escalates into that strange arrhythmia because those were. Those were the questions you asked.

“You aspire to something bigger than just being a caretaker or everyone’s backbone…” Despite what it seems, is the true ending of that sentence. You do not say that because it would make you an asshole and Jaehyun doesn’t deserve that right now. So you go another route - unfettered support, “That’s normal!”

You aspired bigger than your country club in Brooklyn. And though your pathway isn’t something for Jaehyun to emulate one to one, he has to know that he isn't the only one that's going through this.

“Yeah, that’s exactly it!” he exclaims, eyes all round and stunned you were able to nail it, “I just think!… I don’t know, I don’t want to plant chickpeas for the rest of my life, even if it’ll really help my family.”

That must stem from years of being relied on as the pillar of his family. Even if it wasn’t monetary - because his sisters seem successful in their own ways - you saw in that dinner how they looked to him as the lone male figure of their household, and how they felt the need to rely on him for every single thing possible. After so many years of doing everything for yourself, you understand what it feels like to want to have the roles reversed.

The fact that his dad has been absent since his youngest sister was a baby, too? Your psych rotation is waving its red flags all over the place.

“You don’t want to disappoint them,” you fill in.

A consuming fear you know all too well.

“Yeah, you get me!” Gone is the forlorn Jaehyun that doesn’t seem to fit in his usual outline, and is one again smiley and happy with your support, “Thanks for understanding, thanks for your help!”

You smile at him in soft appreciation, right before he gets up to hug you. You watch in slow motion as he approaches with his arms wide open, and you immediately raise your arms in return to block him off - the connotation behind something as simple as a hug has been ruined by what he did at the end of the dinner.

Jaehyun hits your arm blockade and then gets all confused as to why he didn’t get to hug you. And so you have to warn him, “Sure, I’m happy to help, but you can’t go around telling people we’re dating. You’re just my neighbor and my friend.”

He knows that last one is on a tenuous thread, too. Saying you’re 'dating' is just not true in any sense of the word, and you didn’t like being involved in his drama in that manner.

He shrugs, so unbothered by your admonition, then pokes your arm softly and giggle-murmurs, “I mean…. Should we just go on a date, then? I like you.”

His smile not only spreads across his mouth but diffuses the undiluted handsomeness all the way to the apexes of his face - dimples as deep as they can go, wrinkles coming into form around his nose, eyes glittery with delight at the possibility. He stares at you expectantly and perhaps you feel a bit strange in your chest area, but overall you’re just confused.

Jaehyun likes you?

And… not in the way that you like him?

You like him because he’s quiet when you ask him to be and gets you greasy sandwiches when you don’t ask for anything at all. That’s not… that’s not this?

“I have a game tomorrow and then I'm traveling for a game on Thursday, but we can go on a date when I get back.” He’s talking and smiling so hard his cheeks might fall off, and that flusters you to the point he’s free to put a warm hand on your shoulder (he can hold it in, like, half his palm!). Then, when you're still and listening to him, he leans in to whisper, “I love dates. We can do whatever you want.”

That’s weird.

If you were to do a scientific survey of the men you know, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure you'd find that men don’t actually like dates. They just like whatever their girlfriends come up with, or at most, tolerate them. In secret, they couldn’t give a damn whether or not they do those kind of activities- Minho definitely doesn’t.

Minho.

You… you’re in this thing with Minho, you’ve liked him for so long that the idea of liking anyone else feels inappropriate.

And ugh, Jaehyun has a lot of lingering familial issues, not to mention the wide open door his ex is still walking through - literally and figuratively. And don't forget, ha!, you have the motherlode of past hurt you’re not prepared to unpack. And an even bigger predicament is the fact that your career does not afford you the time to go on a date with Jaehyun when he returns from his game, or go on a date at all with anyone who isn’t on the same path you are.

It all sounds like excuses to your ears, but this is the very nice boy that lives across from you and you don’t want to ruin things with him. Jaehyun has seen for himself what your life is like and you’re afraid you won’t be able to give him the priority he deserves… if you ever decided to entertain something this ridiculous.

Just to not hurt his feelings.... not because you're interested.

You take a small step backwards and it doesn’t exactly feel pleasant to have his hand fall off of you like that, but you have to stay firm. You give him no mixed signals with your body language or answer, “I'm not looking to date right now, I'm sorry.” And before his face falls like you’re expecting it to, you tack on your compromise, “I’d still like to be friends with you!”

It was mean earlier when you thought that calling Jaehyun your friend was a tenuous label. You’ve enjoyed his friendship more than any attempt you’ve made at it in the past ten years… or in your whole life, really.

It doesn’t even seem like Jaehyun registers you outright rejected him, because he just hops in place and exclaims, “Yes, of course, please!”

You’re not sure why there isn’t more relief in your body right now - that’s the typical, rational emotion that your brain would send through your sympathetic nervous system upon making the correct choice in a stressful situation.

“Okay good!” You try to match his energy and poke his chest while you tell him, “I better see a McD’s sandwich when I get off of call tomorrow! Tell your mom thanks for the food.”

He smiles and nods, happy to oblige to that simple request, and your nose wrinkles in fond return before you turn around and head towards the door of the employee office.

But as you’re about to leave, you remember you forgot to say something that would make you incredibly selfish if you ignored. You end up yelping, “Oh, Jaehyun!," and as you peek over your shoulder, you watch him stand up so fast you get visual whiplash. Then he’s all nervous and smiley staring at you as you offer, “Good luck with your game.”

You know you won’t be able to watch, but after Jaehyun admitted to his need for support, you would be a really bad friend if you didn’t wish him luck or whatever professional athletes need to succeed (it’s so hard to remember he plays football at the highest tier because you just think of him as your next door neighbor). His grin dips into stillness for a moment you can’t decipher, but then it returns and he gives you a shy thumbs up.

As you leave for real after that, you feel stranger than you’d anticipated about what just happened. You had to draw firm boundaries with Jaehyun - he’s only your neighbor, he shouldn’t get any ideas, and that was the right thing to do.

That’s what you were supposed to do?

Right?

tbc.

Chapter Text

Your office was getting cleaned, so you were going to kill time in the trauma attendings’ on-call room. But those were also getting turned over, and thus it didn’t take Minho any effort at all to convince you to let him sleep at your house until your early-morning surgery.

Yuta’s stark, disgusted eye roll when you walk in with Minho’s arm around your waist is hard to miss. Your doorman has never liked him and hasn’t since before you were fuckbuddies - Minho would sometimes show up at the apartment to trade case notes, and the dislike simmered until it boiled over when it was obvious the nature of those visits changed.

Yuta takes one look at Minho and scoffs, “I’m surprised to see you without your nose in the air, Dr. Douchebag.”

“Let me know when you can afford an apartment in this place, tiny man, and then you can insult me,” Minho bites back, tugging your hand with urgency to lead you away.

Ouch. That was kind of harsh, even for your standards.

You feel bad enough to shoot your doorman a look of apology… but you don’t feel bad enough to not let Minho kiss you while you wait for the elevator.

Actually, he goes straight to holding the juncture of your throat and making out with you instead. The blood has been hot since the middle of your surgery today - you traded jabs back and forth and you swear the interns could feel your gazes sizzling even over your masks. He didn’t agree with how you wanted to sew the liver back into this lady who fell while rock climbing, but you did it your way and she pulled through.

Now you’re going to make him pay for it.

He presses his lips into yours to try and get them to part for his tongue, then you just bite his cupid’s bow and tug for a spark of pleasure that makes him groan, then you tease, “Nuh, uh. My good outcome, my turn to decide what we do tonight.”

His hand slips up the back of your scrub top and he teases back, “It was my case that you stole, fifty-fifty.” He peeks back to make sure Yuta isn’t looking your way, so he can shift his hand forward and palm your chest while whispering right in your ear, “My fifty. Want you on your hands and knees, dollface.”

Ugh, why is he so good at this.

You take a small step away so that you can hug him in a more affectionate manner for this public location. When Minho takes the hint and stops kissing and groping you, you lean up to peck his mouth and murmur, “My fifty. Why don’t we take a long nap after and then go out to breakfast before our gastrectomy?”

“Like a date?” Minho clarifies.

Okay, perhaps you’re a bit of a bitch but… another man requesting a date makes you need Minho to ask you out even more. You don’t get what the big deal is or why he’s holding back from this - everyone knows he’s a part of your life, even your doorman—,

The elevator dings, then there’s a big commotion of people getting off that blurs by you in a streak of purple and the oddly familiar number seven. There’s cheering and sobbing, one raucous shout of Big Vikings Win!, but it otherwise doesn’t register much for you. You stand on your tiptoes and pull Minho’s face back down to yours to kiss him, then you hold his hand to lead him inside the elevator, only to…

…run right into Jaehyun.

Nostrils bursting with the fresh scent of clean soap, you get a close up of his face - A) cherry red, the usual and B) sweaty, unusual. He’s wearing a well-fitted grey suit which is the most unusual part of this encounter, since ninety-nine percent of the time he’s shirtless. The rest is so typical Jaehyun it almost hurts, he smiles so widely only for it to disappear into nothingness when he spots you holding Minho’s hand. You don’t yank it away or try to conceal it or anything, there’s nothing to hide.

He’s still staring, with these round eyes that seem hurt in a way that he doesn’t want to show. Not even Yves in her sexy purple minidress calling from behind him, “Jae bae, come on! We have to celebrate your first win!,” can steal his attention away.

Minho is on his phone checking a page, grasping your fingers, and triple-tasking by muttering without looking at the person he thinks is just another patron of your apartment, “Sorry mate, we’re trying to get on the elevator. Let's go, babe,” and pulls you in with him. Before the elevator doors close and in plain view, Minho holds your waist and kisses the back of your hair as he responds to the page.

This is so, so, so, so awkward.

As the doors finally start to shutter, you watch Jaehyun’s handsome face crease with realization - that all the nonsense you said to him the night before were exposed as immediate lies. Fuck, you shouldn’t have lied to him, but you didn’t think the truth would be revealed considering these parts of your life don’t overlap!

Yet they did, and now you’re lost as to what to do.

Minho puts his phone away and twirls you around so he can start kissing you again, pressing you into the wall of the elevator to feel him through his scrubs. And for no reason at all, a whole bushel of anxiety crowds into the chambers of your heart and makes it impossible for you to properly oxygenate.

You grab at his arms and kiss him softly in turn, and then you lie…. again, “Gotta go back down and get my mail. You go up and get in bed.”

Jaehyun might already be gone, but you can’t leave it at that. You’re cold and you’re unmoved, but you’re not heartless. Leaving it at that would be heartless.

Minho raises his eyebrow, taking your excuse the exact way you wanted him to - with a kind of temptation he can’t turn down, “Damn, dollface, okay. Being at home makes you a bad girl, huh?” He sears his mouth to yours for a final kiss, then he turns you around and smacks your ass as he gets off the elevator, calling as he goes, “Maybe you’ll give me your surgeries too!”

You jam your finger in the door close button so the echo of that annoying sentiment doesn’t make it in here with you.

—

You go back down to the lobby as fast as the elevator can take you, and see Jaehyun there at the front desk with Yuta, who’s giving him another lollipop from the jar. You feel bad for no reas—, yes, of course you feel bad for a reason. You’re just being purposefully ignorant.

You walk over to where he’s standing and steal one of the candies out as well - you need the sugared energy for this conversation - and Yuta chooses to step aside and give you a moment. An awkward moment, where you’re unwrapping your lollipop and the crinkles are so loud they hurt your ears.

You and Jaehyun can’t look at one another and you don’t know what to say.

He literally asked you out on a date, you lied in your rejection, and not twenty-four hours later he saw you with the person who’s not your boyfriend but sort of is. Of course this is making you feel bad. It’s your life, you can say no to anyone who asks and you can date whoever you want, but you don’t know… it’s Jaehyun. He's different.

He’s too nice to crush like this.

You take the lollipop out of your mouth and its acrid sweetness is about to be replaced with the cool saltiness of apology... when Jaehyun chuckles to himself with his own lollipop still in his mouth, then warbles, “I guess time moves faster for doctors than for regular people!"

Huh?

You’re confused.

“You said you didn’t want to date anyone ‘right now.'” He looks so funny making the finger quotes with five other lollipops in his hands, “But this isn’t ‘right now,’ so…. warp speed!”

He’s trying to be positive after discovering you rejected him because you didn’t want him and not because of your circumstances. In any other situation you’d find that train of logic amusing, but this isn’t the time to joke back or to try and cover it up like he is.

“I’m sorry, I really, really am,” you whisper, glancing into Jaehyun’s eyes and hoping he’ll see how honest you’re being. Because you’re genuinely sorry for the lie. You should’ve just told him you were not interested in seeing him… and it’s not because of him either—, “He’s not… we’re not dating.”

You say it without thinking, the disclaimer of your and Minho’s relationship that felt unnecessary yet imperative all the same. And from the way Jaehyun’s green-stained mouth (it must be a candy apple lollipop) falls open, he was one hundred percent expecting you two to have been in a serious relationship of ten years, hidden pet, hidden baby, hidden marriage, the whole deal.

“We’re just seeing each other,” you feel the need to clarify even further. “He’s an attending in my department, it’s easy and convenient and happened after we’d known each other for forever.”

That’s it, there’s no meet cute, there’s no romantic story.

Minho was just another attending in your department that you didn’t take seriously as a resident. He didn’t take you seriously in return. But when you became an attending and were all of a sudden on the same level, you started to admire him - you liked that he was older and confident and didn’t take shit. He started finding excuses to get in your surgeries and you, in his. He would come over to discuss case notes and troll the ER with you for cases and it felt like you were the only two accomplishing your case load.

Last year, you had this epic two-day surgery in which you didn’t sleep, eat, or sit down. On the high of adrenaline and success when the patient made it through, you ended up in a raucous round of sex together in the on-call room that ended up happening again the next night and the next.

There isn’t more to say than that.

Minho isn’t your boyfriend and though there are feelings for him, they’re not epic ones that make you want to sob your affection to his face. You’re happy to linger in this arrangement until he realizes he returns them. It’s just complicated that…. that… this is a thing already. If you’d slept with Minho for the first time last week, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this dilemma. But a year of this situation and you’re far more conflicted than you’d like to be.

Jaehyun waves you off with another quiet laugh that feels like an acceptance, “You don’t have to. I understand, I’ve been rejected before! I was fifteen and hadn’t hit puberty yet, but still.”

You manage a weak chuckle at the idea of scrawny him getting turned down by a girl who’s probably eating her words now, but you can’t chuckle any harder. Otherwise your nervous stomach is going to vomit up actual vomit, and not just word salad, “I'm serious, though. I'm an asshole but… if I had a boyfriend, you’d know.”

You don’t know how you’ve led this man on into thinking he liked you, but it wasn’t on purpose. You would not act in whatever way Jaehyun misinterpreted if you were committed to someone. Even though you’ve never had a serious relationship, you just know if you did, you’d be devoted to them in a way that you’ve never had for yourself.... Just in the hopes they’d give a fraction of that back to you.

[9:47 pm] MC: remember what i said about you on your hands and knees?
[9:47 pm] MC: im waiting

A gurgling sound of shock ripples from Jaehyun’s mouth when you don’t have the time to cover up your phone before he sees, and you don’t think your cheeks have ever felt this hot before. You really hope he knows that didn’t happen on purpose.

You pinch his arm to tease him for looking, and you watch how his entire ear turns the same shade of crimson lava you’re feeling under your skin. You reach in the jar for another lollipop and give it to him as a peace offering, saying quietly, “I have to go, but I meant what I said about us being friends. You were my first friend in forever, I’d be dumb to give that up.”

That is not a lie.

You smile at Jaehyun and he smiles back with his dimples peeking out a bit shyly, the expression feeling a fraction less hurt than it did when you first came downstairs. You gather up your phone and the rest of your lollipop and you head back upstairs to continue with your evening, crossing your fingers that he can continue with his. 

—

It’s not like the sex doesn’t happen.

You let Minho press your face into the pillow just the way he wants, do all of the other things he wants, but it’s… interesting. By that, you mean it’s the same as usual, he’s good and attentive and you finish first - yet the whole thing is still a little weird, almost as if you’re wasting a sexual encounter by doing so. This is a meager thread of connection that you’re sharing with someone you have feelings for but haven’t... given your heart to?

Casual sex was never one of your vices, yet it feels like one tonight. You don’t know how to put your finger on it.

At the hospital, you’ll sleep in the on call room together and that’s when you’ll get your fill of cuddling until he decides he’s had enough. If it’s at either house (mostly yours due to proximity and on the rarer occasion, his) then it’s just sex before you part and you were saving up the courage to offer that intimate addendum tonight. But then Minho gets up to grab water before you can say anything and you watch as he makes a weird face at the girlboss sign that you forgot to take down. And just as weirdly because of that, you feel glad you didn't invite him to stay over.

Why would he sleep over if he doesn’t like your house? It’s an extension of you.

—

You think that moment of understanding with the lollipops is enough to smooth things over with Jaehyun, but nope. It’s really fucking awkward in the week after.

You barely talk to each other when you cross in the midst of the sunless mornings, him leaving for a workout, you returning from a grueling day, and sometimes you can barely look at each other. And you cannot help but notice his eyes now dart to the elevator to see if there’s anyone following you. You think about stopping him and groveling in an apology just to get things back to the status quo.

But you somehow keep receiving deliveries of food in the mornings, all sorts of fatty fried bacon, chicken skins, juicy burgers - things that he probably cried about buying but knew you’d love. In turn, every time you have a second to both shop and go home, you leave him huge cupcakes and pretty cookies and never ice cream because you’re not sure if he’ll get home in time for it not to melt. You do snip all the ice cream coupons you see in your daily newspaper, though.

And it takes all the way until the next Sunday - the game he was supposed to come back from to take you on a date, yikes! - for things to change.

You look up the score of the game, no, no… you go even further and find a website called ESPN to look up Jaehyun's statistics on. You take note of a long list of numbers that look like patient vitals yet make no sense to you otherwise, and then you scrawl a big fat CONGRATS over the prescription pad note.  You send Jeno and Jaemin on an errand to the Jewish bakery in the neighborhood that makes impeccable baked goods, and you stick the note in the package of peach-raspberry rugelach that you know he’ll adore.

You go back to the hospital for a grueling sixteen hours of surgeries and forget that Jaehyun is due back home. Then promptly run into him (like into his torso, and it hurts. those muscles do nothing to pad the blow!) and he finally smiles at you again like nothing's changed.

By the next morning, he’s resumed barging into your apartment. Though he does make sure to knock now, just in case.

—

As time goes on, you listen more consciously as your die-hard football fan coworkers discuss the Vikings at any chance they get. Jeno and Jaemin - and even Ningning sometimes - can spend a good hour after the Sunday matches ranting and raving about each play that happens. They also love something called “fantasy football.”

You don’t want to try and interpret the implication of that.

And even though you have no idea what any of it means, the amount of times they bring Jaehyun up makes it clear to you that your neighbor is very good at football.

Did you see Jeong’s catch?

Did you see how many yards he has?

He got me a gazillion points in fantasy yesterday! He’s going to take us to the Super Bowl!

You don’t care a single bit about football, yet there’s no denying that there’s something special there. Football isn’t just a disposable profession for him. Not many people can do what he does.

—

You know the Vikings have a game today because the head of neuro, Dr. Min, and Minho bet a lot of money on something called a Can’t Lose Parlay. It was strange listening to them put down extra money on the portion of it that involved Jaehyun catching at least two touchdowns - you didn’t realize Minho didn't make the connection between your neighbor and the player he talks so much about.

You wanted to check the score live, but then there was a massive car crash and you ended up rotating into five different surgeries that were all going on at the same time. And truthfully? You forget that there is a game going on, to the point you end up wondering why there’s so many people dressed in purple hanging out at Cinnabon where you go to get the most diabetes-inducing roll possible. 

You’re in the hallway to the apartment and debating whether or not you should eat the second cinnamon roll, when you hear such a cheery greeting, “OMG, hey girl!”

You glance up through the final, slobbering bite to see Yves there. She's in this stunning bell-bottom jean, flower-tulle top outfit, with a purple flower crown in her red hair that makes her look like a 70s fairy, and is currently taping up balloons and streamers in a pattern on the outside of Jaehyun’s door. Is it her birthday or something? Huh? You know it’s not his birthday because he’s an… Aquarius and his birthday is in February. You still remember that ridiculous little skit he performed for you, unfortunately.

Preoccupied with both licking the icing off the inside of the box and looking for your keys, you just wave at her and don't respond.

But she ducks into your pathway to catch your attention and chirps, “Jae scored four touchdowns today, that’s a personal record! I flew into town to surprise him! He should be back from the stadium soon.” 

Shit, it’s already over? You were seriously in surgery all day? Ugh. If you yawn, your body is going to split right in two and you’ll end up sleeping on the hallway floor. 

“Give this to him,” you mumble as you hand over the cinnamon roll in the bag to Yves. You wave at it once it's in her hands, bidding it a bittersweet farewell that it didn’t end up in your stomach. 

You’re disappointed that you decided to sacrifice your dinner for the greater good…. only to see that there’s a Culver’s bag waiting for you on your door handle. It smells incredible and you see the distinct outline of a carton of cheese curds inside, but the best part is the dimpled smiley face drawn on them. Nothing sounds better than to eat this and then pass the fuck out.

“Um.” Yves’ soft interruption pricks at you like a mosquito bite when you have your key in the door, and her fast-blinking lashes try not to give away her worry, “Did he get that for you?” You shrug and nod, and she follows it up with, “Why?”

You honestly have no idea why, you learned at the start not to question the ridiculous things Jaehyun draws you into. Because A) it’s nice to have a snack waiting for you on days where you want to be dead to the world, and B) buying him whatever treats his heart desires is the only way you can show him your support in the limited time you have. 

You shrug again. “He’s my neighbor and we’re friends.”

“Just friends?”

You’re confused as to why Yves asks it with such concern. Anyone should be able to take a look at you and your profession and realize that you’re deadly single, not to mention you made Jaehyun go back to his family and clarify the farce he roped you into. Yet she has the sense that the energy is different in your relationship than you’re sensing, because her face is just….. it’s happy and sad at the same time, as she tries her best to be positive.

(They’re a good match, see? Though you’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Yves is here when Jaehyun said she wouldn’t be.)

You contemplate lying again, but another lie would inevitably make it back to Jaehyun and make him sad.

So you shoot Yves an awkward smile and admit, “I'm seeing someone at the hospital, not your… boyfriend or whoever he is to you. It’s complicated. But yeah.”

You don’t think Yves realizes how obvious she makes her relief - she was one hundred percent convinced there was more going on with the two of you.

“Are you two together, though?” you wonder. 

They seem to be on vastly different pages, and they're not the kind of pages one could read and end up coming to the same conclusions after. You’re not sure if Yves knows the phrase ‘too little, too late,’ but from everything Jaehyun’s confessed to you, she appears to be the poster child for an overachievement award there.

Yves braids a streamer through her fingers in nervousness, weighing whether or not to tell you the truth, and she eventually caves, “I want to be with him again.” That’s enough of a no as you need–, “I panicked when he was traded. My whole life I've been dreaming about growing old in our hometown together and when he suggested we try something different, I just… I thought I knew what I wanted. I'm trying to show him that going home won’t be so bad because I'll be there. Me and our future family.”

She finishes her dramatic, heartfelt little monologue with a flourish of honest, tear-filled blinking, and that... makes you feel bad for her? Huh? This whole thing has been screwing with the logic center of your brain.

Jaehyun confessed to you a bunch of secrets that you’re sure he’s never said a word of to Yves, even though they were planning to spend their lives together. He seemed so dejected at the notion that people didn’t take him seriously or support him, and you're unsure if showing up as a surprise and putting up a banner with balloons is enough to overcome that. Maybe the idea of a family will. He seems like a real family guy, probably wants no less than twelve kids.

“Good luck with that,” you offer up with honest regards. She seems to be trying, which means he’s the one who has to turn her down if that’s not what he wants. You lift your now lukewarm Culver’s and salute her on her journey, “Cheers.”

“Wait, wait!” Yves stops you from going, then runs around to stand between you and the door. 

What in the world could she possibly want?! If you’re going to be made to re-heat your cheese curds, you’re not going to be as nice this time around. 

She works up the courage to suggest, “If I want to be with Jae bae, I should get used to being around Minnesota. Maybe we can do a double date with you and your B.F. so that you can show me around?”

Huh?

“Uh, now?” you blab, and then feel like a douchebag when she winces, taking your genuine question as sarcasm.  

She cannot mean she wants you give up your break to spend it with her, right? Your spare scrubs are wrinkled and disgusting and you can feel your braid falling to pieces. Less than thirty minutes ago you were covered in blood, and you do not think Yves wants to know your hand was nearly on someone’s asshole.

Moreover, why you even considered her request without saying no outright is an enigma. Minho is going to laugh at you and then say no and laugh some more… not to mention Jaehyun has no idea what is going on behind the scenes here.

“I go home next Wednesday, so whenever before then?” Yves isn’t good at hiding anything, she's clearly hoping that by you saying yes you’re giving her a stamp of approval in her quest to win back her great love. You're clearly hoping she'll never find out you’re entertaining so she’ll shut the fuck up and leave you alone with your food.

You sigh deeply and end up squishing your cheese curds in your fingers by accident, which makes you sigh even more, “You know the probability of me being free beforehand is…,” Yet something about her face falling reminds you of how sadness feels foreign on Jaehyun, and you cave, “Never mind. Um, we’ll see. Patients dictate it, not me.”

Yves claps her hands so happily despite it not being a real confirmation and then launches herself at you in a hug. You weakly pat her back in return and almost cry when you see the cheese curds splattered everywhere in the bag.

Does it make you a bad doctor for hoping that you have enough emergencies from now until next Wednesday to get out of this date? 

—

In the dead middle of the night, when there’s not a soul in sight, you spot Minho by the charting computer. You tiptoe over as fast as you can and push your coffee cup in his hands as a surprise. He looks down at it, then up at you, and you feel bold enough to kiss him on the mouth because no one is around.

He catches on and snags you by the waist, to kiss you deep and proper - what you couldn’t for the eight hours you were just in surgery - and then he stops to take a long, merciful swig of the coffee, face cresting in equal bliss at the taste. 

You tug playfully on the front of his scrub top and whine, “Do you have anything for meeeee?”

“More charts,” he blares through a mouthful of coffee, not offering you a sip, another kiss, or an option to pick out something of your own for him to purchase.

He never gets you anything, even though you always get his favorite nitro cold brew. It shouldn’t be hard for someone you spend literally the whole day with to remember, you see Jaehyun once in a blue moon and he always knows what you want–, 

Ugh, Jaehyun.

He’s been on your mind more than usual, considering it has now been twenty-four hours since Yves propositioned you with that ridiculous request for a double date. You were going to 'ignore it' or 'forget it,' but the part of you that lived to please nagged the whole surgery, waiting for an opportunity to bring it up with Minho.

Now, unfortunately, you have the perfect opportunity handed to you on a platter.

You smooch him up extra, give his mouth two or three more sweet kisses to get him in a soft mood. Then when he’s pliant and tired with his arms around you, you quietly wonder, “Do you remember the guy we ran into on our way home the other day?” 

Minho thinks hard and then shakes his head, having not a single clue what you’re talking about, like none. That encounter didn’t even register in his brain beyond a minor inconvenience that stopped him from having sex for a few extra seconds. 

“Never mind that,” you sigh, figuring there’s no reason to give context when he doesn’t care and it doesn’t matter. “The man was my neighbor and his girlf...” You stop from saying girlfriend because that isn’t what Yves is - and out of some weird respect to Jaehyun you choose not to use that term, “His…lady friend…”

Ew. So much for that.

“She wants us to go on a double date with them.”

Minho shifts into a strange position of tension to look down at you and figure out if you’re being serious, and then he voices his confusion, “A date?” You nod, no way to frame it other than as a date, and he gets even more confused, “You know that that’s not really…. what we do….? Also when would we have time?”

You anticipated this, the argument and the pushback, and that’s why you were hoping the enticement of your kisses would push him into obliging. The double layer of insult to your already bruised ego is having Minho vocalize outright that dating is not what you're doing. It stings - all you want is to go on a date with him and you’re far too stubborn to ask first.

Someone who really wanted you would ask. 

Okay, but now that you’ve brought it up, you’re going to feel like a coward for backtracking, not to mention you’re going to have to endure more of Yves’ sad puppy dog demeanor loitering outside of the apartment. So... you’re going to have to bring out the big guns. 

“My neighbor plays for the Vikings,” you announce.

Three. 

Two.

O–, 

“Holy shit no way?! Who?!”

Of course that would work on Minho, it’s a scientific rule that all men like football. And it’s also a scientific rule that women are geniuses, considering his epic, sports-fueled elation gives you the perfect excuse to get him to do what you want, “You have to come with me to find out.” 

Minho deflates so fast. Men are also so dumb.

He kisses your neck and murmurs right there, “Ugh fine, but only because I'm curious.” His lips tease out a bit more pressure against your skin, and you feel the sparking ache of a bloom there as he does some coaxing of his own, “We’ll go wherever and have drinks and then me in your bed right after?”

Huh?

As much as you love the way he licks up your throat to meld his mouth into yours and slips a hand into your scrub top, you were going to suggest that you make the rest of the night your own. You could go out, have a night on the town that you can tell Yuta about for once…. But sex at home is good, too, you suppose. 

“That sounds good,” you sigh into his mouth when his lips press yours open for a bit of sly room for his tongue, "I–," 

"Dr. Choi, Dr. y/l/n!"

You spring apart as soon as you hear Chief Kwon’s voice echo down the hallway, experiencing the insane rollercoaster of utter fear and then pure relief when you look and don't see her yet. Even though this rule is definitely not enforced, attendings and department heads are not supposed to hook up because of the quote 'power imbalance.’ That is a crock of shit made up by HR, but you don’t want to be on Chief Kwon's bad side… nor do you want incorrect notions regarding your relationship with Minho to spread throughout the hospital. So being five feet apart is a necessity before she comes rounding the corner, in her scrubs on a way to an early morning surgery - rare, considering her schedule.

She stops for the briefest of moments, gives you both a severe look that you hope isn’t because she knew what you were doing, then barks, “President’s people want to talk to both of you at separate events next month.”

The short list is here.

It takes everything in you not to beam - you didn’t think beaming was in your repertoire before Jaehyun. 

Chief Kwon turns to your compatriot first and says, “Dr. Choi, you’re –,”

“Ah, ah!” He dares to cut her off by waving his hands in front of her face. You feel as miffed as she looks while he blusters in front of her like an idiot, “Don’t let my competition know!”

What, does he think you’re dumb enough to miss the way his eyes flick in your general direction? You're the chief of trauma, you’re the one who makes his schedule and coordinates his appearances at the Minneapolis health clinic, you know everything that’s going on!

“You’re doing the conjoined twins separation in Anchorage at the end of September,” Chief Kwon deadpans, not caring one bit to acquiesce to his request. She hands him a folder that he snatches so fast, and then she turns to you and continues (and you let her, because you’re not insecure), “Doctor, the team wants you to give a lecture at a congressional dinner early October. Clear your schedules.”

She walks away without another word, happy to be done with the conversation and the both of you. 

You cannot hide your surprise and neither can he. Sure, he gets a very cool surgery that you'd love to be in to bolster both your resume and your PR reputation. But to speak in front of the very people that would sit on the committee to approve you as a nominee? If this was really a competition, you would've just pulled ahead. 

But you’re not a sore winner, so when the coast is clear, you slip an arm around Minho's waist and cuddle him close. You’re excited and you know he is too, and so you want to celebrate each other’s accomplishments together.

And he……… he bats your arm away - a bit playfully, a bit not - and then he warns you, “Nuh, uh! We’re in a competition, can’t discuss or celebrate, dollface!”

He tickles your side and gives your neck one more kiss that ends with him tugging you into the nearest on-call room so you aren't interrupted by your boss again. But the comment lingers in your head. Is he really prepared to never mention the Surgeon General search with you again until it's over? This disconnect is more perturbing than the no-date situation, because you've always wanted a partner you could tell everything to.

You've had to keep things to yourself for twenty-nine years, how could you not. 

—

You’re feeling lazy right now.

After squeezing in three rounds of leg-shaking sex in between surgeries, your capacity for both moving and thinking has been erased in Minho’s hands. He has not stopped kissing you enough to let you put your clothes back on, and he’s letting his fingertips trail over you as much as you want, attempting to entice you into another round.

Every time he stops what he’s doing to stare down at you on the mattress, you experience the direct pull of his magnetic persona. You feel compelled to do this, to confess to Minho that you like him, which also feels childish since the act of engaging in sex should be enough for him to know. There’s no reason you should keep putting this off, you may as well tell him and force him to take this seriously—,

He yawns into your mouth in return and mumbles, “Gonna sleep over, okay?,” before pecking you one last time and taking up the entirety of the one pillow you have.

Shouldn’t the fact that you have one pillow be enough for him to know? You like him, but you don’t like him sleeping in your personal space when he’s not your boyfriend. You’re about to protest when you glance over and he’s sleeping already. Fine. That’s fair enough, you know he had an epically long surgery today and you can’t control the need to sleep after something like that.

You’ll let him nap but not sleep over.

As soon as you come to that compromise in your head, your phone starts ringing - your work phone, on the ridiculously loud ringtone you forgot to turn off. With a regretful yawn of your own, you roll over to the beside table to answer, “Hello?”

You can’t hear anything on the other end, and you hope it’s not an emergency surgery that you’re needed for. You really need a peaceful afternoon.

“Take that outside, I'm sleeping,” Minho orders from where he’s stuffed into your pillow.

The annoyance wastes no time rushing in - this is your house, he is in your bed, and this is your job. How dare he order you about when you let him stay here out of the goodness of your heart.

But because time is of the essence, the quicker you tell Wendy you’re not available for surgery, the quicker you can get back to give Minho a piece of your mind. So you slip on your silk robe and go outside into the hallway to answer, “Hello, anyone there?”

You make out a bit of rhythmic beeping that sounds like it’s coming from the inside of an OR, but you don’t think any of the residents on call have your number and none of your interns are in surgery. There’s a moment of total silence that’s filled by one shattering, heavy breath, and then your senses explode with the noise of incoherent panting that is funneled through the speaker.

You’re panicked as hell off of just that, and you peel the phone away from your ear to check the number. You don’t recognize it beyond the Minneapolis area code of 612.

“Hello?!” you try again.

“Is this Dr. y/l/n?!”

Who on earth in Minneapolis that is not at Mayo has your number to call you like this? You’re officially panicked AND freaked out, because your instinctual answer comes out beyond shaky, “Y-yes—,”

“It’s Dr. Kang!” That familiar, melodic voice worms straight into your ear in a cacophonous note of agony, “I need help, please, please! There’s no attending and I don’t know what to do, I’m not a surgeon! Mom having a crash C at thirty-one weeks, baby is out but massive hemorrhage into her chest. I had to crack her!”

The ugly panic in your brain transforms into pure adrenaline, as you evolve into this emotionless, calm, altruistic state of being that you live in while in an operating room. The facts: a mother is having an emergency c-section, they were able to get the baby out, but with massive internal bleeding in the chest area, which is now open.

You try to stay calm as you direct Seulgi over the phone, “This is easy. Find the bleed, clamp it, hold pressure until an attending can get there.”

If she’s not a surgeon, she’s not going to have any idea what to do beyond that. It should keep her patient alive until someone who does will be able to help.

“There was a massive mass casualty on our side of town—,” she starts to say, and you already know - half their patients were diverted to your ER, hence the short break between surgeries.

“Don’t explain now,” you cut her off. “Just find the bleeder and stop the bleeding!”

It's nauseating to be here in the hallway of your apartment, staring at the bland, beige wallpaper and not having a single visual of what’s going on in the other end. You wouldn’t say you needed your eyesight in the OR, most of the time you can do your repairs with your eyes closed, but this feels as if you’re trying to assist her from the bottom of a well you can’t climb out of.

The beeping switches cadence, the universal signal the patient is losing too much blood volume, and Seulgi howls, “How! I didn’t become a surgeon on purpose!”

“Stick your hand in there!” you roar, panting and sweating and killing yourself with nerves.

You can imagine a chest cavity with blood for yourself, you’d know exactly what to do and have shown the interns many times at this point, but you can’t get over this virtual assist. It’s messing with you, with your training, with your confidence.

“I can’t stick my hand in her chest!” she tries to argue, the squelch of blood audible as she hesitates before deciding to put the surgical tools down in favor of her hands.

You gulp air down in heaving mouthfuls, just in the hope that your panic will go down with it. You have to sound calm, despite pressing the phone so tightly into your cheek you can feel the burn of the battery, “You won’t hurt her, I swear. Just put your hand in there and try to find where the blood is gushing from.”

If it were you, you’d start with the lungs—,

“Her lungs, it’s from her right lung! I found the hole by the hilum, I can feel it!”

Your knees give out under you at the sudden, surprise cry, expecting another minute of torture while Seulgi went on a wild goose chase she would never be able to finish in time. When the tell-tale signs of presyncope start to burst in your vision, you press a hand right into your wildly racing heart, begging it to stay in control to help you help her get through the most delicate part of the procedure.

You picture exactly what you would do if you had a patient injured the same way, and give your best instructions, “Now you’re going to have to clamp it, and it will be a semi-blind clamp. But you should be able to trace with your fingers—,”

“There’s no clamps, doctor!” A faint voice in the background of the OR comes through to your anxious ears like a scream, and Seulgi’s whine of frustration feels like it’s a sob.

“No clamps?! What! You should always have clamps!” How are they not prepared, you always have double the number of everything just in case there’s an emergency - which there always is!

Seulgi is talking a mile a minute against the backdrop of the aggressive beeps and the sounds of her hands squishing about in the chest cavity, “We had to use all of them in the OR, no exaggeration, to keep her closed!”

The beeping gets terrifying at that point, and you think the rhythm of your heartbeat escalates to match. You're sure the blood is going out of the patient faster than the anesthesiologist can keep it in, and if Seulgi doesn’t stop this now, you’re not going to be able to have a conversation about clamps, because the patient will be dead.

“Nurse, go get clamps and an attending right now! Now! That’s a fucking order!” you scream at the top of your lungs into the receiver. Your vocal cords rip out with literal whiplash when you change your attitude to talk to Seulgi as evenly as you can… or maybe you’re screaming still, “Twist the lung with your hand.”

The only way now that she can stop the bleed in time is if she physically blocks the hole on her own. There is so much danger doing it this way, she could make the hole bigger, she could tear it entirely, but those can be fixed. Those are the better choices when the only other option is to stand there and let her die.

“What the fuck! I can’t grab her lung!”

“Do what I say." You take the phone away from your ear so that you can funnel orders directly to her, “Grab the lobe and twist it along the hilar axis. You know what that is, you passed med school.”

“I can’t!—,”

You scream at her like you’ve never screamed at anyone before, existence going black with rage that stems from your center of disquietude, “She’s going to die if you don’t twist her goddamn lung! Do it! Do it, now!”

Then you think you actually black out - you have no idea who you are or where you are or what you’re doing for this moment of consuming nothingness.

You blink and find yourself braced against the wall with one hand, ear almost sawed off by the pressure your phone is inflicting on it, trying to fight the vertigo-induced ringing in your head. The beeps are still going wild, and you pick out some off-color grunting, a squish or two of flesh, and fuck it, you can’t hold it in anymore, “Dr. Kang?! Dr. Kang, hello!” There’s no response and the beeping gets even worse, then you’re losing your mind and screaming again, “Seulgi, hello?! Answer the phone—,”

“I got it!” she shrieks, “I got it, oh my god!”

Your hearing returns back to you just in time to hear the EKG beeps even out into a normal, steady heart rhythm.

There’s no relief anywhere to be found in the husk of your body. The nausea starts to swirl and then a little comes up your throat when you inhale, forcing you to cover your mouth before you vomit. There’s so much more to go - she’s holding onto a woman’s lung and is nowhere near in the clear, but you have to trust someone at her hospital that is actually employed there will take over for you.

You can barely make yourself function between the heaving gasps of almost vomit to explain, “Hold the lung there, do not move an inch,” and just in case she’s going to fly solo for longer than you’re anticipating, you add, “When the clamps come, clamp the hell out of it. Don’t wait for your attending, call cardio. Tell your service to call my office at Mayo afterwards, I'm sure I'll have to answer questions.”

You hang up before you hear another beep on the monitor, and for the second time in rapid succession, you black out again.

When you come to, Jaehyun is running out of his apartment with no shirt, waving his tee around and hollering,  “Where’s the party, I heard screaming!”

A fleeting moment of eye contact with him passes, then you bend over and throw up violently in the hallway, hacking and spluttering out the nonexistent contents of your stomach. Your throat burns and there are forceful tears in your eyes and every single muscle group in your body is contracted into a position of agony as you hunch there with your hands on your knees, waiting for the quaking to stop.

What the fuck?

You cannot remember a single second of it other than the fact it felt like the patient was dying in your hands and you brought her back to life on your own. It was incredible and insane and you hated every second of it. You never want to do it again, what the fuck. You’ve seen someone with their entire insides ripped out and had to figure out how to put them back in like a freaking puzzle and that didn’t give you half as much stress as this did.

Now your vision is all black, so how are you ever going to be able to see enough to do surgery–,

Your vision isn’t black, no, it’s just not filled with the same vivid colors as it usually is. Your surroundings are all soft and peachy, and your stomach unclenches as the warmth of a palm presses right through your thin silk robe. You realize Jaehyun is holding you up - face lined in worried tenderness, fingers brushing a strand of hair back into your messy braid, quiet joke at the ready, "I guess we both like throwing.”

You clutch at his shoulders so hard, afraid that you’re going to be sick again, and mumble, “Huh?”

“Someone throws a ball to me and you…” He tilts his head over to the ground in the middle of his response, and then his pretty dimples come poking out, “Throw up?”

A cutting slice of laughter erupts from your lungs and it hurts your stomach. In his arms, you bend over out of instinct to heave, then jam your lips shut in the hopes that you won’t actually need to vomit. You take a long, long, long breath through your nose and try to remember that you’re okay, and Jaehyun is there with you the entire time. He doesn’t do anything other than hold you and move wherever you need so that you’re comfortable. All the while, one of his hands strokes the back of your hair and the other dips to mark tiny circles over the crook of your palm and thumb.

When your stomach seems to be cooperating, you straighten up, er, Jaehyun is basically holds you up on his own to soothe, “It’s alright, big mama, it’s okay!”

“Big mama?!” you protest-giggle, confused as to how he came up with that.

He giggles so happily in return, “Sorry. That’s what I call our sweet cow Betty Boop when she’s not having a good time. I’ll think up a better nickname, promise.”

Why is that the most charming thing you’ve ever heard in your life? You’re not even mad he’s comparing you to a cow.

You feel better but drained at the same time, and if he wasn’t there to catch you every time you wobble, you think you’d fall over into your own vomit. Yet Jaehyun hangs on for every second you need him to, and to keep your mind occupied, he wonders, “What’d you do, champ?….” He thinks to himself and then he shakes his head, “Nah, champ doesn’t work. Something else. Anyways, what did you do? Save a baby?”

Ha.

He has no idea.

“Save a patient, over the phone, without being able to see,” you whisper. Vague enough to cover all your bases.

Jaehyun’s mouth falls open so wide his chin hits his bare chest, and then he laughs in complete disbelief, “A-are you just making up a movie plot?”

You agree with him for once, it sounds so ridiculous you don’t know how it wasn’t something you dreamed up in an intense pre-surgery nap. But the shaking is still gripped through your hands and you hear the harsh, ragged catch of your exhales, and this, yup. This definitely happened.

“It gets better.” You beckon him close to listen, because you’re going to blow him away, “I was giving instructions to…. The woman you set me up with on Bumble BFF.”

You officially can’t be mad at Jaehyun for doing that anymore - his idiotic decision to sign you up for a friendship dating app ended with you saving a life.

Jaehyun’s face spreads into the most joyous grin, dimples proudly shining in his face. “You’re welcome, then! You’re welcome for doing that, even though I know you hated me for it.” He sticks his tongue out at you while he squeezes your waist, and you give him the biggest scoff you can muster before he gets all shy and smiley again, “Now I’ve saved one life! Call me Dr. Jeong, hehe.”

Well, you don’t know about that. But you certainly owe him. A lot.

Because despite you feeling more like yourself, Jaehyun still offers to clean despite your protests for him to not touch your vomit. He starts to get mad when you don’t let him, and then throws you the killer line that he thinks is so genius, Superheroes shouldn’t have to clean their own throw up. And you’re so overwhelmed at the prospect of someone helping you that you just… you hug him.

Jaehyun makes this tiny noise of surprise when your body collides with his, but he melts into the hug fast. And though you haven’t hugged enough people to qualify skills as a hugger, he’s an undeniably good one - you’d be surprised if he wasn’t. His cheek presses into the crown of your head, dousing you in warmth, and his hands are so big you feel like they can hold every part of your back as you snuggle into his bare chest and let his quiet, steady presence overwhelm you into placidity. He squeezes you a little too hard, which turns out to be the perfect amount of strength to send your consciousness back into reality, and he half-carries you like a baby back to your apartment door just to make sure you don’t fall over again.

You go back to your bed and Minho is asleep there, his presence nagging at you for a reason you can’t remember because…. because…. between the hug with Jaehyun and everything else, your mind is fried. He wakes up when you sit on the bed in your weakness and grumbles at you for not letting him sleep longer. He asks what the phone call was about and you don’t say anything, just shrug and ask him to leave before you get under the covers.

He’ll take it as a competition and ruin it. And that cannot… it can’t be ruined.

—

The apartment hallway is perfectly clean when you leave for surgery at night.

You owe Jaehyun so, so, so, so many sweets tomorrow, and you nearly bankrupt yourself trying to find enough desserts in Minneapolis to convey your gratitude for what he did.

—

UM's OB/GYN service sends over a form that you and Chief Kwon have to fill out together after a lengthy meeting with your lawyer and theirs over the phone. It ended with A) a scolding by legal, and B) Chief Kwon presenting you a bottle of Grey Goose for the troubles you went through.

Every word gets the nausea rolling in vivid waves again - a strange kind of emotional reaction that has never once happened after any of your dramatic surgeries, not even when you were an intern. Writing out each of the steps taken in the procedure recalls the desperate panic that filled your veins, feeling so lost giving instructions to someone else. The effusive gratitude you get from the UM attending you filled in for does nothing to placate the insane anxiety, not even his cheeky request to allow more outside visitors into your OR.

That soured feeling is going to linger for a good long while, you’re sure, to the point that you start avoiding the OB wing of Mayo just in case you have a re-triggering. And you swear to god, when your pager goes off in a surprise alarm as you're rounding the corner by the incubators you almost throw up on the tile again—,

[10:15 am] Seulgi Kang, MD: Hi, wanted to let you know I just left a meeting with my service and got destroyed (lol, worth it) while they sang your praises, so thank you, I genuinely mean it.
[10:17 am] Seulgi Kang, MD: If you get into trouble over at Mayo, please let me know.
[10:18 am] Seulgi Kang, MD: And please also let me know if I can do anything for you in return, I'd love to buy you a coffee.
[10:18 am] Seulgi Kang, MD: Thanks to you, a mom and her son got to meet that day :)

It doesn't feel humanly possible, how quick time passes from reading her final message to the torturous terror leeching out of you like you've been opened on the table. The mother survived and she gave birth to a son that day, who she was able to meet because of your help. You helped her bring an innocent soul into the world and ensured that he would stay protected by the person who loves him the most.

That's what all babies deserve, and it feels like a privilege to have been a part of this one's beginning.

The relief that comes is followed by a hollow, wholesome pang right under your sternum, brought about by actual unknown reasons. Whether it be from helping Seulgi through trouble or saving an innocent baby or what you went through in general, now that the dust has settled, it feels.... it’s nice. It’s a sense of camaraderie that you’ve never had before, and not just with your colleagues.

—

You race home and knock on Jaehyun's door as fast as you can.

These feelings that you've been feeling, strange and big and foreign, must be feelings he can explain to you. He's the expert on something for once and you really need a consult, only to remember that he's still at his away game and you can't tell him any of this. So, you make up your mind to text him for the first time ever.

But after scrolling through your list of contacts neatly lined up in alphabetical order, there's nothing close to Jaehyun Jeong in the J section or....... anywhere really.

It's Jaehyun, though. There's no way he would've gotten the hint when he put his number in your phone for 'emergency purposes' the week you met that he was supposed to name himself like all of your colleagues. You have to find the contact that doesn't have just a name, maybe Jaehyun Jeong! or Jaehyun Jeong :) or—, 

ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Or that.

Biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling too hard and failing, you giggle like a goofy loser when his ridiculous contact name disappears off the screen of your phone because it’s too long to fit. 

[11:54 pm] you: Hello, it's me!
[11:55 pm] ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD: hihi, me! i miss u!
[11:55 pm] ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD: should i call u me?
[11:56 pm] ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD: me? not like u, me. but me.

[12:01 pm] ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD: now i'm confused. ill come up w something else

You can't stop laughing, this is so funny.

[12:03 am] you: Just wanted to tell you that the patient survived, and they are ok!
[12:08 am] ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD: OMG IM CRYING? CAN YOU SEE ME CRYING?
[12:10 am] you: No, Jaehyun, I cannot see you crying. You’re in Florida.
[12:12 am] ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD: [img_127.jpg]

You know exactly what this is going to be, and Jaehyun delivers - this oddly stunning self-portrait of him wearing an unbuttoned tee, a backwards baseball cap, and a massive chain, riding on the back of the team bus on their way to the hotel. But against that tableau of manliness, he’s sticking his lip out in a pout, his cherry cheeks and elegant eyelashes stained with tears.

[12:15 am] you: Now I see. Don’t cry, though. It’s okay.
[12:16 am] ONLY THE BEST NEIGHBOR IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD: i had to! superhero literally! i'm so proud of u :)

You could honestly never feel bad for a second when you're around Jaehyun, that much is a fact.

For the rest of the night - when you should be sleeping early - you find yourself texting him again and again, just to see his ridiculous contact name pop up again and again.

And in the morning, when you're sleep-deprived and hangry but more on the hungry side than angry, you shuffle to the door for the crossword and... there's a massive bag of fresh bagels waiting at your doorstep, even though Jaehyun is still in Miami. There's an Ubereats receipt on the front which means he ordered them right to you and somehow got the time right so that they're fresh.

Instead of his pretty handwriting, there's a typed message on the receipt.

I now dub thee Babysaver! 

XO XO XO XO XO XO XO XO XO XO XO JJ77

Um.................

As your cheeks twinge with minuscule heat, you make a mental note to ask Jaehyun what he thinks the X and Os stand for. You hope they’re not what you’re thinking. You suppose. Using X's and O's in a message like that is pretty inappropriate when you don’t like him in that way and Jaehyun knows you have a person.

You thought he understood.

That XO doesn’t mean…….. It’s not kiss, hug. Is it?

tbc.

Chapter Text

You show up to the address that Yves left on a note with Yuta, and it turns out to be... Minneapolis’s only location of TopGolf. Your jeans congeal to your skin in a different brand of social anxiety.

Minho stares at the glowing LED sign, then blares with ill-concealed disdain, “Are you serious? I thought this was just drinks.”

Honestly, you have no idea how this happened either, trust you. He’s not the only one trying to transfigure that obnoxious logo into the subtle insides of the nearest dive bar. You were not pulling a fast one on Minho to trick him into going on a real date, because that would only be owning yourself.

Yves… and Jaehyun - that tall figure in a button down has to be him, though you're not used to him with a shirt on - are waiting for you by the entrance. So you ignore Minho’s question and instead grab his hand and march right over to the other couple.

It takes her a second to wave, unable to recognize you because you’re not in scrubs. But Jaehyun waves and hollers the second he sees you, “Hihi! What are you doing here! And I didn’t even know you owned jeans!”

You didn’t think you did either, you had to go into your storage to find the last pair of jeans that fit you.

Before you can answer, Minho is the one that delves into this first. He lets go of your hand to jog right over to Jaehyun in complete childish elation, and he claps hands with your neighbor while talking a mile a minute, “Holy shit, man! I'm so happy to meet you. I’m Dr. Minho Choi…” You have to hide your eye roll at the fact that he uses his title and Jaehyun bites his lip to not laugh when he notices, “I can't believe this is an actual Vikings player here in the flesh. Dollface, he’s won the Super Bowl twice already. He needs to win us one!”

Minho slaps you on the arm to get you to realize, and you’re actually glad he does - you had no idea a bashful, blushy Jaehyun was so successful. (You’re assuming the Super Bowl is the big championship thingy.)

Minho’s commanding voice echoes so loudly into the early fall night that other TopGolf patrons turn and look. When they start to notice that Jaehyun is indeed with you, you watch his face go from red to ghostly white as he gets nervous under the attention. You grab Minho to try and shut him up but he just blabs on and on about how he’s done surgeries on some Twins players but he's been a Vikings fan for forever. Jaehyun gets more and more uncomfortable in a contrasting downturn to how Yves gets prouder and prouder.

“Ooooooookay!” you awkwardly interrupt in the middle of Minho’s monologue, ignoring his glare at you. “Let’s golf!”

People are starting to point at Jaehyun now, whispers audible as they weigh whether or not they want to go up and take a picture. You hate crowds, and from his look of relief that comes when the suggestion is made, so does he.

Yves apparently used her clout as an NFL player’s ex-girlfriend to get you a private suite. Yet when you show up, there are dozens of people littered around because… the display screen on the outside says JAEHYUN JEONG, PARTY OF 4 in big, bold letters. And how many Jaehyun Jeongs are there in Minneapolis? You watch Jaehyun just die in embarrassment as people stare, before he decides to walk past and do nothing more than sheepishly wave in return. This is his private time and it’s getting interrupted. Yves, on the other hand, waves and gives a thumbs up to each of the fans on his behalf, twirling and curtsying in her little white golf dress like they’re here to see her instead.

And the second Jaehyun catches wind of Yves doing that, he gets all unhappy and grabs her arm to pull her away from the window as you quickly shutter the privacy blinds.

“Why did you pick this?” he hisses at her, “I thought I told you I just wanted to eat and watch film!”

“You don’t want to go on a date with me?” She stares up at him with the biggest fluttery eyes you’ve ever seen on a woman. Ophthalmologist on call, hello?

You can tell by the way Jaehyun’s entire body clenches that he wants to say no but doesn’t want to say it to her face and be mean.

Ugh, you can’t forget you’re complicit in this.

Feeling guilty, you once again divert the conversation away from this tension by asking Yves, “Why golf?,” and then you nudge Minho in the ribs to get him to nod along as if he’s curious as well.

“Oh! My sorority sister back at U of G, her family owned a golf course so she took us to golf all the time! I’m actually good, if I do say so myself,” Yves explains slash humble brags, tapping Jaehyun on the arm in a prim little gesture to get him to look up from the floor and nod in affirmation.

You wouldn’t say this is you proving how smart you are, but sometimes it pays off to be a little quicker on the draw.

“What do you know!” you exclaim with enough false enthusiasm as you grasp your date’s elbow and swing him forward - and under the bus, “Minho and the other attendings in trauma have a regular tee time that they go to!”

A tee time that you couldn’t care less about, but that will make him occupy Yves’s time enough to give Jaehyun - and you - a break. Minho had his competition gene activated the second Yves said she was good, so they go marching off to the attendant for a tougher virtual course for them to swing at. Which means you’re on your own. Because you’ve never swung a golf club in your life and Jaehyun is an athlete, which means he must be good...

“I haaaaate golf,” Jaehyun whines through one of his signature pouts. “Why are the little balls so hard to hit?”

He glares at the nearest ball like it’s personally wronged him, demeanor all sketchy and suspicious, and you burst out laughing. That makes him laugh and finally, he looks like a normal man, not one stressed out to the high heavens by his unwanted celebrity. Again, why is he so hilarious without even trying? You don’t know anyone who is half as funny as he is—,

A resounding thwack echoes through the private suite.

You and Jaehyun look over to see Yves and Minho hitting the shit out of their balls, shouting and taunting each other in unintelligible golf terms that you can’t make out. Jaehyun scratches his head as yours tilts to take in the sight… isn’t golf for old rich people who are retired or on vacation? Better make the most of it while you still can, though, and get out your aggression.

You take a golf club of your own and position yourself by your tee, grip the club in an unfamiliar way compared to how you hold your instruments in surgery, and when you swing, you miss the ball completely. Two seconds later, Jaehyun tries it out for himself and misses the ball, too. He peeks behind his shoulder to see your ball still in front of you, and both of you burst into giggles.

He glares right at his ball, trying to will it with his eyes to cooperate, and then he starts complaining, “I’m good with balls in my hands and in my face, but this just makes no sense! Isn’t it supposed to go really hard and far and fast and go in a hole somewhere?! A nice tiny hole?!”

You’re ninety-nine percent sure that Jaehyun has no idea his phrasing is wildly inappropriate.

You try so hard not to cackle while responding, “I think so, but that’s only for people that are good.”

He’s as awful as you are, you can’t lie.

“I’m good!” he whine-protests. “Let me show you!”

Jaehyun hurries back to his tee and lines up his club nowhere close to the ball, and this time, he puts the entire strength of his back - you can see his muscles strain under his shirt - into his swing…. only to miss a second time. He bites his tongue between his teeth and tries again and again to hit the ball and legitimately misses every time. You’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts and you can’t even hit your own ball. In fact, you almost fall off the deck into the projector screen, and you need to get him to stop before he causes your untimely demise.

“Please go,” Jaehyun begs the ball with tears in his eyes, making you hoot and holler even harder, “Please let me hit you, ball! Please go! Please fly, zoom!”

In the middle of this, the doctor in you takes over and notices how his bad technique is forcing his shoulders into an unnatural position. Even though you don’t know how wide receivers use their body on the field, you get concerned the torque is going to hurt him.

You run over and risk the damage, hug him from behind to get him to stop that unrefined swing, and mumble right into his back, “You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t do it right!”

He knocks your nose with his shoulder blade on purpose and then argues back, “Neither of us know how to do it right!” You certainly don’t have an argument against that, so he suggests, “Maybe together we won’t flop as hard! Hold on to me!”

Due to the order-like suggestion, you clutch Jaehyun’s chest as tightly as you can. The striations of his muscles are palpable under your palms, and you move with him as he swings, trying to keep his torso and his shoulders in an acceptable arrangement for the human body.

It’s the most pathetic swing ever, but he makes contact with the ball! It goes about two feet but you hit it!

Jaehyun screams in happiness and hits you right in the nose when he jumps in victory. While you’re groaning in pain and your eyes are watering, he has no idea - he’s already swinging away and taking you with him, and he hits the next ball further, maybe about four feet.

“Eat my ass Tiger Woods, hehe!” he yells at the simulation screen, before he lifts his club and smacks the next ball so far on the course you can’t even see where it lands. He squints at the screen to see if he can spot where his strike ended up, and when he can’t, he hollers in your ear, “I told you I’m so good at this! I’m so good! Thank you, ball!”

Nose still smarting and vision still stinging with tears, you let go of him to get out of the danger zone. Yet you’re somehow totally delighted by how happy he is from hitting a golf ball for the first time. You put your hands on your hips and scold him silly, “Alright, I'm not letting you risk my health and my career to become a pro golfer, sorry! This is not going to happen again!”

You get that his burgeoning golf career is something important to him, but both of you are at the literal top of your professions. Maybe taking it easy is the way to—,

“What, so is this just checking off me asking you on a date, then?”

The golf club tumbles from your hands when you hear Jaehyun’s quiet question, so innocent yet so flirty at the same time you’re taken aback. He’s never been like that. You don’t think he had a flirty bone in his body before this, he was pure sunshine and country boy goodness mixed together. And now he’s letting his stare linger on your tie-front top, and the air feels thick in here. You’re having a bit of trouble getting sufficient oxygenation.

“I’m here with a date and you’re here with a date, I don’t think that counts as going on a date,” you respond back just as quietly, leaning on a technical flaw in his argument to throw him off his game.

Jaehyun lifts his eyebrow in a challenge, then says, “I’m here with my ex who tricked both me and you, into coming to this….”

Wait. He knew?

He knew that Yves schemed to invite you to a double date none of you wanted to be on? You won’t have to tell him the truth yourself after this? You’re confused. (This is also interesting to note, considering he said he liked all sorts of dates...)

When you look at Jaehyun in stunned silence, he pushes a bit further, “And are you here with a date? Or a guy you had to bribe with the chance of meeting me?”

His face goes all knowing and sly, but there’s no malice there. It will never get any less strange how perceptive Jaehyun is about matters that take you a while to disentangle. Yet, it makes sense - someone who is so open with his emotions should, in theory, be able to read them well in others.

It’s reciprocal perceptiveness, that’s all.

“Sorry,” you whisper, remorseful. 

You’re not going to attempt an excuse or an explanation. You know how much this made him uncomfortable, and that was what you were worried about the most. That was never your intention.

“Don’t be,” Jaehyun whispers back, tapping your upper arm in the tiniest gesture of acknowledgment. One side of his nose sweeps with pink blush as he flirts again, “I said I liked you… which means that, unfortunately… I'm going to let this slide.”

You feel funny.

There’s no scientific word for it other than just… funny. You feel very funny as you stare up into his face and drown a little in what feels like indulgence when his shy dimples peek out. 

“Are we talking about dates?”

Minho interrupts the tethered haze out of nowhere, sending an icicle of realism straight through you. He’s sweaty and huffing from his time attacking the golf course, and when you peek back at Jaehyun, his face is twisted in what can only be described as polite, southern disdain. Your lips twist in an annoyed grimace and he presses his together so hard to try not to laugh. 

Your date waves a hand in front of your face to get your attention, “Hello? Maybe we should get to the date part of this and have some drinks?”

Right, right, right, how could you forget that you were here for a double date?

“Yes!” you oblige as soon as you shake yourself out of this daydream…

…just as Jaehyun groans in relief, “Yes, thank god!”

Minho’s expression pinches with strangeness, not expecting you two to bond over hating golf or whatever this was, and then snaps out of it to signal for the waiter. Over in the corner, Yves gives one last ferocious swing at a ball and breaks whatever miles per hour record was on the simulator. She shrieks in victory, happier than a southern peach that she 'won' golf night - if Minho’s lack of bragging says anything - and turns around to see if Jaehyun was watching any of that.

He wasn’t, he was too preoccupied with making two golf balls kiss. Somehow she doesn't look as charmed by that as it is. 

As soon as the beers are served, you sit at the tiny table crammed behind the green, then Minho puts his hand around your waist to pull you so close you’re practically sitting on his chair, too. Jaehyun starts to pour the beers and he gives you a cup that’s halfway full, but just as soon as he's done, Minho steals it for himself. You hear the sour little noise Jaehyun makes when he scowls, and the next cup he pours is twice as full and set right in your hands.

Minho takes a sip from his beer and tries to playfully trade with you for the fuller cup, but you hang on to it because… because… you don’t know why. When you won't give it up he holds you closer and starts up the casual conversation - typical of a date night that you have no experience with, “How long have y’all been dating?”

“Ten years!” Yves answers with true pride…

…as soon as Jaehyun grumbles, “We’re not together.”

Holy. Awkward.

The pathetic little look she gives him when her efforts are paid dust by his nonchalant response makes you want to melt into the floor in secondhand embarrassment.

And usually sweet Jaehyun drives the stake of his pettiness in even further, “We were together for ten years but we broke up earlier this year. We’re friends.”

Minho chokes on his beer at the disconnect, for once at a loss for words. You have no idea what to do but sit there and sip your beer - even though that’s the last thing you want to do.

Yves musters up a bit of courage, hands squeezing the life out of her wine glass (too classy for the beers, admirable) and edits her answer to fall in line with Jaehyun’s narrative, “Yes, we’re always going to be friends! I just try my best show him my endless love and support.” He winces, visible and a thousand times more awkward than anything you could’ve dreamed up, and Yves chooses to ignore it to ask Minho the reciprocal question, “How long have you two been together?”

You at least will be on the same page for this one - you're smart enough to keep your delusions to yourself.

“A year,” Minho says with confidence...

... And at the same time you mutter out the blasé answer of, “It’s complicated.”

Then you stare at him with the most bewilderment you’ve ever felt in your life.

You’ve been sleeping together for a year but that isn’t a definite length of time you’ve been ‘together,' which you thought you were in agreement on. And there’s nothing close to exclusivity in your relationship. Despite you practicing it on your own, you know full well about the interns and nurses and residents galore Minho banged when you first started this… what?

Jaehyun is focused only on you in his intrigue, and doesn’t register Yves draping her head across his shoulder and cooing at him in soft remembrance,  “Ah, one year ago we were in the middle of a record breaking season, huh?”

That sets Minho off into manly-athlete-blabber excitement mode - he talks too fast and your head hurts too much, going on and on about Jaehyun’s statistics with the Falcons and how they pale in comparison to what he’s doing with the Vikings. How he’s so much happier now that Jaehyun plays for Minnesota, something about that ‘fantasy’ league again, all of which makes you uncomfortable.

The more Minho goes on, the more giggly and happy Yves gets, “Honey, you’re still so famous! Wherever you go, people won’t ever forget you! Even if you come back home!”

You almost feel bad for her, almost, with how many times she’s stuck her shot foot in her mouth tonight.

Because you feel when Jaehyun’s whole soul goes clammy and his usual bouncy energy dissipates into his muted, “Thanks.” After a fleeting moment of eye contact in which you - gosh, this is stupid - telepathically tell him it’s okay to stand up for himself, Jaehyun bites out just that, “Sorry to be rude but I don’t like talking about that when I'm not at work. I'm just, like… a dude. You don’t talk about your surgeries out of work, do you?”

“All the time,” Minho says with no hesitation, and the littlest bit of confrontation. His stare is now glazed with distaste, indicating that he’s no longer on the same nonchalant, sports-loving plane that his favorite athlete is on. He gives you a subtle flick of his eyebrows to communicate, Agree with me. 

And sure, you do talk about surgeries outside of the hospital waaaaaaaaaaay more than you should, but that’s because you A) don’t know how to turn your work brain off and B) didn’t have friends to talk about other things with before this. 

“I have a degree in PR!” Yves interrupts out of nowhere while raising her hand. Even though you don’t get what that has to do with anything, you’re thankful you have an excuse to sit and listen, “I’ll talk for Jae bae, brag about everything great about him—,”

“Please don’t,” Jaehyun snaps.

An extremely crippling silence follows, filled by the muted whir of Yves sniffling, the amused exhale that Minho blows out, and the crackle of your teeth against your beer cup. You're caught off guard by how harsh Jaehyun is, right before the picture of their breakup un-fogs into clarity. Yves wanted both sides of him - the famous side and the country boy at home side - and neither of those were a side that Jaehyun was comfortable being.

Interesting. 

Minho gets a page and Yves takes that moment to grab her purse and check her phone (peek in the front camera to make sure she isn’t crying), and..

You feel a pre-warmed breeze next to your ear, as Jaehyun is whispering, “Why aren’t you drinking your drink?”

Because this is giving me so much anxiety I want to gnaw my arm off? And the cup is the only thing I have as a replacement? “I don’t like beer.”

Without a second thought, Jaehyun deftly swaps your cups with one hand, so he has your full one and you have the one he had, filled with water. You didn’t even notice. You take a sip from the cup - hoping in a strange bout of shyness your mouth doesn’t touch the side he was drinking out of - and then you say quietly, “Thanks, it gives me nausea.”

Perhaps that was the only downside of being thirteen while attending college.

“Oh, that reminds me!” His exclamation puts everyone’s attention back on the two of you, and you watch as he rifles around in his hoodie to pull out a little square carton and hand it over to you, “This is for you! Anti-nausea medication! 

The box looks interesting, not a brand you’ve seen before in the hospital pharmacy or in, like, any store you can buy medicine in. Then you spot the phrase for canines plastered across the bottom of the packaging, right next to a…. very cute picture of a golden retriever puppy in a bandanna. Your eyes close in muted yet pure amusement, and you try your best to not sound rude when you correct, “Jae, this is for dogs. This is canine medicine, what aisle were you in?”

He takes out his glasses from his sweater to put them on and read the details that he didn’t bother to check, and then his mouth forms the roundest o, “Oh! I was wondering why there was a cute puppy on it!” He giggles so happily at himself, hand over his mouth as he, for once, cannot believe how ridiculous he was, “I thought it was just to make you feel better when you’re throwing up!”

He is such a funny guy. His intentions are sooooooo good despite the execution just not being there. Funny.

You’ll keep this box - though you’ll never use it since you’re not a dog person - and the accompanying puppy-boy memory will make you happy on bad case days. Maybe you can finally let go of having ice cream in the freezer.

Nope, gotta keep that for him just in case.

“Jae, that’s so cute!” Yves fawns over him, inserting herself into the conversation to tease his hair, pinch his cheek, and lay her head on his shoulder somehow all at the same time. She snuggles as close as she can to his neck while he rolls his eyes, then asks you, “Are you feeling okay though?!”

Minho fusses over you in a way he usually doesn’t - lets his fingers tenderly stroke your side, moves some hair out of your face but only messes up your ponytail instead - and then wonders in his own brand of stoic worry, “You threw up and didn’t tell me? Are you okay to operate?”

Of course that would be his worry. You operated fine this morning and he didn’t say a thing.

“It was one time,” you huff, trying to get away from his smothering concern. “Details of a case I was assisting on at UM freaked me out and I threw up.”

You keep it subtle because of HIPAA, which he should know better about and not push you on. But the subtlety is mostly because of Seulgi - you don’t want to expose her to anyone that might get her into trouble after the hospitals hashed out the issue.

Yves chimes in with some support of her own, “I doubt that! You’re such a powerful woman, I doubt anything gets to you.”

She means it as a compliment but you sense this off-key undercurrent in her words. That coupled with the interesting glance she gives to Minho screams that she finds it strange you chose to brush this off on your own instead of letting him take care of you.

Does she want to know Jaehyun was the one who took care of you? Seems unnecessary.

Something about Yves’ comment pricks at Minho, he looks at you with narrowed eyes and probes, “A case at UM? Are you consulting there, too?”

“What does consulting at UM mean?” Jaehyun says the abbreviation like um the word. “Is that a secret?”

Okay, you’ll be a little bit of a bitch and think that he can’t possibly be dumb enough to not know that UM stands for University of Minnesota. But then he catches your eye and his eyelid dips in the scantest of winks, so casual you barely catch it, and he... he did that on purpose to derail the conversation before it could get into a slugfest.

“University of Minnesota,” you laugh so sweetly, hoping he can feel your genuine gratitude for the save. “That’s where it was, I fixed the baby there.”

“Wow,” Jaehyun sighs through his beam. “That’s so cool.”

You’re caught up in his dreamy smile for a second, sure, but not enough to miss the look Minho and Yves accidentally exchange with each other - surprised that the two of you have discussed this without them.

Minho again tries to pry for details, “A baby at UM?”

You might be the smartest one here, because you know exactly how to get out of this.

“Let’s not talk about work, here, okay?” you tease Minho softly, and all of a sudden, your baby-saving escapades are now an untouchable, uncomfortable topic. Out of the corner of your gaze, you see Jaehyun’s eyes flit your way in appreciation, and you smile to yourself before turning your pleading gaze up to Minho instead, “We’re just here to drink beer and have fun, hm?”

You can tell that he won’t let it go, though. He’ll be worrying all night why you have a case at a second hospital when he doesn’t, which will make you worry in turn over what he's going to do to retaliate.

Golf night isn’t so fun after that.

—

A few days after that disastrous attempt at a double date, you find yourself scrubbing out of an intense procedure on a man who had a hockey blade caught in his shoulder.

It was so close to his carotid any sudden movement could kill him. That required so much focus on both yours and Minho’s parts you couldn’t have a single conversation in the OR outside of meticulously planning what move you were going to make next, or telling the mouth-breathing interns to stay quiet and not bother you.

But as soon as the skate was out and the man was on the way to recovery - chunk of his neck missing but heart beating all the same - Minho is ready for this conversation. You can tell he's sick and tired of waiting around after days of you avoiding it, “Wanna tell me about this UM baby?”

You finish scrubbing your hands and arms and don’t say anything. You haven’t cracked yet, not after Minho kept asking you about it on the way back to the hospital at the end of golfing, in endless pages and texts since, during and after the two times you’ve had sex, and whenever you ran into each other at work in the rest of your time. But he should know that you cannot elaborate.

He angrily dries his hands on a towel, throws it in the bin, and then grumbles with full force annoyance, “You owe me after making me sit for two hours with that dumbass dude.”

You're confused as to who he's talking about. You haven't had any particularly grating meetings with the interns, not to mention the other attendings seem to be on top of controlling their residents after your little lecture.

“The guy who taught us the robot microsurgery tutorial?” He was a little slow, you suppose, but you attributed it to the fact that he was trying to teach you a meticulous surgical technique over a video conference from halfway around the world.

“Jeong,” he sniffs.

At first you think Minho just makes a noise that vaguely sounds like your neighbor’s last name. But no, the distaste is presently clear in his handsome face, and then his words make his position known, “Dude was dumb as a bag of rocks, maybe they were right about making you do that concussion lecture. Don’t know why I was so excited to meet him when all he contributes to society is catching footballs.”

It’s cold in the scrub room, but you descend into a depth of frigidness that makes you hard and uncomfortable.  You’re itching to call him out, to laugh in his face - or honestly, to scream in it - but the coldness that overtakes you burrows into the center of your brain that fuels your authority.

So you stand there, stony-faced and open eared, and let Minho keep doing laps of frustration around the scrub room while he runs his mouth, “He was so stupid! I can't believe some of the things that he said! I don't know how he even graduated college, let alone high school!” It keeps coming and coming and you just take it, “He and his hick girlfriend were so weird! I hated every fucking second of it…” (that is the only thing you’ll remotely agree with) “…because it was so clear that they were on one level and we were on another. I guess I have no choice to root for the guy, but please don’t ever make me do that again.” 

You’re pretty proud of yourself for standing there emotionless throughout it all, despite the festering hurricane of rage that beats against you with each callous self-ego boost Minho takes. You don't know how long it takes until h e stops pacing around the tiny space and glances over to check if you’re in agreement with him.

Okay, party’s over.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, and wonder, “Are you done?”

“What?” He’s flustered and doesn’t bother to hide it, since it’s only the two of you—,

Jeno, Jaemin, and Ningning come into the room to scrub out of the procedure after helping Moon close, and… this plan was put in your head the second Minho dared to say your neighbor’s name like it was nothing more than a common slur. Now you have the perfect path to fulfill it right in front of you.

You clear your throat and the trio looks up from the sinks in rigid obedience for the question, “Who’s overseeing rectal exams this month? CY Park?”

The maggots are a bit confused as to why you’re bringing up that dastardly deed that they haven’t been tortured with it yet like the rest of the interns - you never do them anymore, you’re officially above that - but Jeno nods after Ningning shows him the schedule she's written down. You feel undiluted, evil glee fill you up from trough to brim.

“Dr. Choi will be assisting you instead, please coordinate with his service,” you inform them.

When the interns gawk at you and Minho doesn’t react, you leave the scrub room before you experience his blow up. The appropriate punishment for being an asshole should be to look one in the eye for two hours straight. Maybe that will teach him a lesson.

—

You start to head down the hall and the countdown is activated. Actually, you don’t even need a countdown, you’re going to blink once and he’ll be upon you—,

“Seriously?” Damn, that was faster than you thought. Minho sprinted out of there to chase after you, to grab your arm and growl in your face, “What the fuck was that for?”

“For annoying me,” is all you say, simple and to the point.

You wrench your arm out of his grasp and walk away as fast as you can, so he won’t be able to follow... or worse, argue. Two hours of helping the interns learn how to do rectal exams is not going to be enough. He’s going to have a whole day filled with assholes after you’re done with the scheduling for this month.

So what if Jaehyun is a little slow on the uptake or makes the wrong connections every now and again? He’s literally the nicest human being on the face of the earth and doesn’t deserve being slandered when he’s not here to defend himself.

Minho can’t relate to being that nice, he can’t relate at all.

—

When you go shopping for shampoo at Target - the convenience of getting it yourself overtaking the laziness of getting it delivered - you stop in the snack aisle, and come across a bag of something that’s called puppy chow. It’s covered in chocolate and powdered sugar and you buy about ten bags of it, thinking you’re so funny. You save them for when Jaehyun will really need A) a laugh or B) something sweet, or probably both. 

—

Later on in the week, after the Vikings win another game the hospital can’t stop talking about (you wouldn’t know the score but the good mood on Sunday tells you), you happen to be coming out of the elevator just as a grey-suit clad Jaehyun is putting his key into the door of his apartment. You never noticed this, but he sticks his lip out in a pout to concentrate while he’s undoing the lock, and it makes him look like such a puppy. 

You cup your hands over your mouth and call teasingly, “Hey, Tiger!”

Which is the wrong thing to do because Jaehyun jolts so hard he knocks his head right into the door, then looks around in so much fear, holding his backpack to himself and blabbering, “Where’s the tiger! Where is it!”

How does he even think that a tiger would get up to the twenty-seventh floor of an apartment building in Minneapolis?

“Tiger Woods, you silly person!” you call again, fond as ever of the way he is so disarming with his charm.

When he looks your way in his quest for the ‘tiger,’ you laugh and wave at him so he sees it’s just you. He bows in half in relief, thoinking that he was about to be lunch meat for a ferocious beast, and by the time he straightens up, his face is the same baby pink as the button down shirt he's wearing.

You jog over to say a proper hello and... end up caught in his arms in a hug.

Your standard greeting has apparently evolved into this layered intimacy that wasn't present prior to him comforting you in the hallway. You waste no time crowding into each other’s personal space after a week apart, you cling onto his suit jacket and his palms splay out across your back, and you try not to press your cheek deep enough into his chest to feel his heartbeat. He comes into your house without asking and makes himself at home in your living room by flopping on your couch right under the Girlboss sign as you sit on the loveseat. Both of you just exist together for a simple and easy minute. 

Then, you can’t help but tease him for his reaction, “You obviously haven’t been back to rip up the golf course, huh?”

“Well, I can’t rip the golf course up if you’re not there to be the Woods to my Tiger, so no,” Jaehyun sarcastically snaps at you from behind the pillow, “Not like Doc Suave would let you, right?”

You choke on your water and it gets right up your nasal passages, but when you glare at Jaehyun, he’s more preoccupied with giving the fringe on the throw pillow a little braid. 

“Excuse me?” Just what is he implying? Did he really just say that Minho controls your life? 

He looks up from his braid, sees you’re not happy, and then rolls his eyes and huffs, “Not in a missionary way.”

What the hell is he implying now? There are really only two choices that can be attributed to that word and neither of them fit, though one is worse than the other.

Jaehyun lets out a deeply annoyed sigh, and then offers a second clarification, “Hating women way.”

Hating women and mis–,

“Misogynistic!” you burst out in a giggle, fingers covering your lips just in case it comes out ruder than you intend. You press your face into your palm and you can feel the mirth there plain and pure, and you try your best to be serious in your explanation,  “Jaehyun, missionary is a sex position. Misogynistic means hating women.”

How could Minho ever be annoyed by him? Jaehyun genuinely knows things and is way smarter than everyone gives him credit for, just not in the conventional way. 

“I know missionary is a sex position,” he drawls, “It’s not my favorite one, though.”

From your spot across the living room you are a spectator to the way his dark eyes move to hold yours captive, so you don’t miss the saucy jut of his eyebrow right into the fringe of his bangs. And y our stomach feels like it prolapses down the cavern of your existence, leaving behind this hollow, aching, empty space. You have to bite your tongue hard, hard, hard, not to ask the obligatory, keening question of well, so what is?

Because that is just. It is simply not an appropriate question for you to ask your friend. 

(Missionary isn’t your favorite either, if you’re being honest.)

The right thing to focus on isn’t that, though. You need to figure out with haste if Jaehyun was being possessive in any way by asking you that question. You felt fine joking with him about the date situation since you were in on it, but you've continued to make it clear that you aren’t interested in him romantically. Even though you can more than tell that he is still slightly interested in you.

Not slightly, he said it himself, I still like you. 

“I could tell that he thought I was dumb,” Jaehyun admits with a shrug. Either he’s not upset about it or not trying to show it because his dimples are hanging out and they don’t tend to hang out when he’s mad. But the casual way he cops to a deeply hurtful fact makes you so uncomfortable he’s the one who placates you, “It’s fine, I'm used to it and you know I am.”

“No, you’re not,” you protest. 

Sure, he’s not smart in the way you and Minho are - not arrogant, just that there are certain things that follow eight years of higher education and an additional six more - but he has credentials that neither of you do. A certain type of human perception that makes him warm and relatable, an emotional depth that lends him an aura of approachability and comfort. 

“I know I am. They gave me Cs out of pity to keep me on the football team in college,” he drones with so much sarcasm it somehow doesn’t hurt you as much, “And despite being dumb, I understand that’s very much not the vibe that two Gravy League educated doctors want to spend their time with. So, I’d understand if he’d ask you to stop agreeing to these double dates."

Gravy League is so funny you almost cry holding in your laughter, another pointed reminder of your priorities.

“Whoa, who said anything about this not being the vibe,” you feign innocence as best as you can, despite Jaehyun giving you another deadpan look that screams he doesn’t believe your lie. “Lest you forget, we’re hanging out now.”

Sure, at the beginning you dubbed Jaehyun the most annoying person ever, but that was only until you realized he was as harmless as the fluffiest puppy. And he’s such a welcome break from everyone in the hospital taking themselves way too seriously - including you.

Jaehyun is ready with his second flirty eyebrow raise in one conversation - two too many. “Is that what you like dating though? The super intellectual types?”

He means to probe in regards to his own selfish ambitions, but it does cause you to self-reflect. You found Minho extremely intelligent and captivating at the start, he came from the Cleveland Clinic with a reputation and you were still - as so many people have pointed out - young enough to get  those metaphorical stars in your eyes. But as you’ve gotten older, you’ve recognized how he's become (or perhaps has always been) snobbish and cutthroat in a way you shouldn't be appreciating. You thought it was him keeping you on your toes in a bit of professional camaraderie, but now… it reeks of jealousy. Or what you think is jealousy.

You’ve never had many moments to experience that emotion in the first place. Not professionally, since no one could ever compete with you, not romantically, since there were no romantic situations that required jealousy.

The only jealousy you’re intimately familiar with is in regards to your family, which burns hot and lingers all the time.

But that’s different. 

“First of all, I'm not dating him.” Jaehyun needs to know that despite that muddled grey zone of a double date, things are the same as you left them in your last conversation, “I do like his intelligence, but I'm equally as intelligent so it’s not a necessity for me. In fact, he’s annoying about it sometimes.”

You don’t like butting heads with Minho on a daily, hourly, even minute-by-minute basis. You’re not saying you need to be the alpha in a relationship, you just don’t want to be arguing all the time.

You search for a way to frame this that isn’t just shitting on Minho behind his back like you hated him doing to Jaehyun, and then you sigh, “We’re just……… we sleep together because it’s easy, but we haven’t even been on a date.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have admitted that, since your tender, bruised heart only wounds itself further. And perhaps you shouldn’t have admitted that, since you can see the determination-fueled glint in Jaehyun’s eye.

“Then why are you even dating him?” he asks, without reserve or flirtation or hidden agendas.

You shrug in honest return - you're not able to articulate it other than you liked Minho despite it all, and have for a while. 

Jaehyun laughs and it is so warm and wonderful, gets you pliant before he hits you with caustic little jabs, “That’s what I thought. Also he’s like creepy old. He actually looks forty, chickpea, please tell me he isn’t.”

Why does he have to be so perceptive!

“He’s forty-one,” you mutter, suddenly finding your socks too interesting to stare at.

“Jesus Christ in heaven,” Jaehyun groans, face pulled in agony when you confirm his worst thoughts, daring to make the sign of the cross in front of you to bless you for your sins.

“Not like you’re any better!” you exclaim.

His pathetic lack of self-defense against anything and everything his 'ex' girlfriend did at your golf date sent way more mixed signals than you not having the courage to confess to your longtime fling.

“I’m not dating her!” Jaehyun makes it clear that his relationship status is still the same, too, “She surprised me after the game! Surprised me! You know how confusing that is after how many hundreds of fights we had about her not wanting to move?!” You don’t have a counterargument, because if you were in his shoes, you’d have no idea how to begin figuring that one out. He finishes with an angry little arc of a frown and a flourish, “The only reason I’d accept her not moving is if I thought she was the one.”

Whoa.

That sounds pretty final for him.

You don't want to defend Yves because this is a sore subject for him and that would be a slap in the face. But you'll give him a little nudge just in case this is what he wants and he doesn’t want to accept it. Loving someone for that long and then having it sour must be an interesting experience.

“She's just trying to show you she's open to this,” you remind him.

He sighs and nods, like he already knew for himself that that was true. Then he goes contemplative in a way that shows you how seriously he’s been thinking about this, “Yeah, but she’s going to want me to come home anyway. I just know she’s going to say, Jae, I did all these things for you, so you do this for me.” His eyes close in such an honest expression of his pain and confusion that you feel it transferred into the emotion cortex of your brain, “And I just… I can’t.”

Jaehyun must be the loveliest boyfriend in the world if you're extrapolating from how he is as a regular friend. He deserves someone that'll take his hopes and dreams into account and mix them with hers. Not put one above the other, not defer, not pick sides - intertwine them in harmonious accomplishment so that their successes together are greater than those achieved apart.

“You can do better than that, I think,” you murmur. “Not to be rude.”

You don’t know why he suddenly decided to become enchanted with you when you and Yves are so different, but he deserves better—,

“You can do better than that, I know,” he drawls back in return, using a pointed edit of your own words, dimples popping in a cheeky bit of silent flirting, “Being rude.”

You suppose Jaehyun has a point, but you do not know what possibly might be 'better' for you than another surgeon who has the same pedigree and résumé as you do. What you want and what you deserve feel like two entirely different things, which are altogether separate from the third prong of what you think you need.

There’s no way you could get all of that in one person.

That funny feeling that has been coming and going is something you’re going to have to make note of in your personal health log - just in case you need to bring it up with your PCP at your yearly physical. Because feeling like your whole chest is sticky when Jaehyun stares at you with those pretty, pretty eyes cannot be good.

Feeling a rush of shyness start to take over, you beat it back with the usual confidence and pretend you’re not affected at all, “I don’t have surgery for a bit. Order in?”

You’ve never seen him move as fast in your life, when he sprints to drop his bag off in his apartment and come back.

You eat dinner (meatloaf and meatless meatloaf which looks like a hockey puck) and watch a movie (He begs you for the Notebook and you cave and put it on. He cries through the hour you can be there for) and split a tub of Chunky Monkey straight out of the carton at the same time.

It feels one hundred million times better than that weird ass date could’ve ever felt.

—

At six in the morning, you roll out of the on-call room bed (by yourself) after not being able to go to bed… and find that you’re not as mad as you would usually be about missing out on sleep. After grabbing your coffee and not being upset that it’s gone cold fast, you realize you’re in a good mood. You don’t know if you’ve ever been in a good mood this early in the morning.

You pass one of the patient rooms and take a look in out of habit to see if anyone needs help, and the second you see a young man with honey blonde hair sitting on the middle of bed, you experience your own phantom myocardial infarction. You plaster yourself onto the wall as you fight to catch your breath and tunnel vision yourself into the cheerful floral poster on the wall across from you. There’s no way he’s here, right? Right? Right?! There’s no way he’s getting treatment in the hospital, there’s no way he’s sick or hurt.

Jaehyun would’ve told you, he tells you everything.

You scramble for your phone in your scrub top pocket and go right to his pinned contact to call because you need to make sure it’s not him. It’s stupid to do so when you could just look inside the room and find out for yourself, but you don’t know. You’re scared to look because looking makes it real.

One ring, and the person on the other end picks up before you can say anything, “What does pretty doctor find out her name mean? This makes no fucking sense? What?” Whoever it is is confused by something you can’t figure out, and then gasps in scandal, “Is this a porn hotline?!”

A what?!

You glance down at the screen to check you’d dialed the wrong number, and surely enough, Jaehyun’s obnoxious contact is falling off the display. You try again, “Hello?”

“Uhhhhhhhh…….” You don’t know who it is but it’s not Jaehyun, his voice is about ten thousand times deeper than whatever that noise was. If it’s not him, and you haven’t run into the classic mishap of another woman answering his phone, who the heck is this—, “This is Mark, rhymes with Jark!”

Your eyes screw shut in relieved frustration as you mumble, “Jark is not a word…”

He doesn’t hear you because he’s babbling away in his own world once he hears your voice, “OMG you’re that doctor chick! You live across from my bro! You’re like, the scariest person I’ve ever met in my life! I don’t get why he acts like you’re a sunshine potato chip.”

You have no idea what Mark is talking about beyond him correctly clocking you as scary. What the hell is a sunshine potato chip?

“Can you please put Jaehyun on the phone,” you request.

“Only if you come to the Vikings fundraiser barbecue tailgate thingy,” Mark bargains, like this is some kind of quid pro quo instead of him violating both you and your friend’s privacy. You’re struck dumb enough that he carries on, “If we make our fundraising goal our quarterback said he’d buy us all Louis Vuitton,” he pronounces it Lou-eese Vuh-witten, “purses. I need a good murse. Man purse. And I need help.”

You should’ve been brave enough to look into the room and not bother calling because this is turning into a shit show, no matter how much it kind of makes you smile. He and your neighbor are birds of a feather.

“Um. Sure,” you agree just to get Jaehyun on the phone, since everything about a fundraising barbecue sounds atrocious to you. Smoke and large crowds are like the bane of your existence but alas, the price you must pay.

Mark sings hold music into the speaker, little doo-doos and beatboxing and a whole lot of sounds you can’t process are coming from a human being’s mouth. Then that disappears into a bunch of whispering that is so loud that it can’t even be characterized as whispering. 

I thought a porn hotline was calling you!

A what?!

Pretty doctor equals porn, dude!

Oh my god, ew! Give me the phone!

Then Jaehyun’s deep, deep, wondering voice is pouring into your ear, “Hi... twirlypop? No. Hi... sunshine? No, that doesn’t work either. Ugh. Anyways, hihi! You’ve never called me before, what’s up?”

You get all shy and giggly out of nowhere, feeling like you took a huff of nitrous oxide before dialing him, “Hi, where are you?”

There’s a moment of shattering silence before his answer, where you strain to hear if there’s any noise coming from inside that room. You know it doesn't make any sense whatsoever but you're not operating in the doctor headspace right now.

“I’m at practice, silly!”

The cheerful confirmation sinks a load of relief right into your chest and you take a shiver-filled moment to hold the phone with both hands to your ear and force yourself to exhale. He’s okay, he’s just at football practice and that was your mind playing a dastardly trick.

“You should know every bit of my schedule now." And though you don’t know it exactly, you can recall the times Jaehyun leaves and comes home, when practices are, when he leaves for the plane if he’s traveling. Though this is an audio call, you can hear the dimples press into his smile as he continues on in a coy little tone, “I know every bit of yours, always working, all day.” (He’s right, of course.) “Why’d you call?”

You finally have the guts to take a peek inside the patient room and…. your eyes didn’t deceive you. In the bed is who you think you saw, a tall, lanky boy that looks just like Jaehyun, with the same elegant nose, soft eyes, golden blonde-brown hair, and pale skin - though his is a tad ghostlier. From the size of his torso, he might have four or five inches on Jaehyun, but they have the exact same lithe build, strong shoulders, and big hands. The boy's wearing a maroon tee that is so close to purple it’s no wonder you freaked out.

You have to clarify that he really a boy because you’re sure he’s younger than you. He looks like he’s still in college.

As if he knows you’re thinking of him, Jaehyun’s muted bout of flirting tickles your ear, “Hard to think of wordsies? Or saving a life?”

“Just wanted to say hi,” you whisper, feeling the brunt of your shyness hit you full force.

You’re exceptionally relieved it isn’t him. You have no idea why you freaked out but you just know that you’re glad it’s not him - even at the expense of whoever that cute boy may be.

“Hi, chickpea.”

In his quest for a nickname that fits perfectly within the rigid outlines of your existence, this one is too droll and trite and… perfect. This shiny feeling makes you want to order him to never call you anything else.

"Hi," you whisper.

He lets out a tiny exhale, then offers up, “I have practice but let’s hang when you’re off from work,” and you can picture the saucy way his eyebrow must slide up when he decides to add on, “If you’re missing me that much. Hehe.”

Why are you smiling like an idiot?! Why!

“Okay, see you,” you can't believe your mouth doesn’t betray you with something worse, “I’ll be back by eleven.”

You hang up, before Jaehyun can say anything that brings the funny feeling back…. or makes you picture things that will make it hard to focus in surgery. You grab your coffee and go, stealing one last glance at Jaehyun’s doppelgänger in the bed. You hope he’s okay enough for you to forget him.

—

But you can’t forget him.

You think about the cute patient who looks just like your neighbor all day.

Lucky, that you have a ton of surgeries that don’t require a lot of concentration, because he seriously is in your head every second of the day - wondering what brought him into your hospital, who the doctor is overseeing his case. The idle hope hangs around, that he was here for a minor thing and is gone already.

Not usually the case when a patient makes it up to the seventh floor off the ER, but you’re going to choose to ignore that. 

After an entire workday of avoiding that wing of the surgical suite - a feat that confuses the interns, moreso when you won’t explain why - you have to walk by that hallway to get your stuff to leave. You tell yourself not to look in the room and then go ahead and do just that, and…. He’s still in there. With his handsome face stuffed right into a textbook, features all scrunched up in concentration, he looks even more like Jaehyun than he did before. It is disarming in a way that you don't know how to process beyond letting the fickle 'emotional' part of your heart take over. 

When you knock, he smiles at you in greeting - and has no dimples to be seen on either side of his mouth, which might be the most relieving thing possible. You feel a thousand times lighter when you smile back and wonder, “Are you busy? Want a visitor?”

“Only if it’s good news,” the young man giggles, and he even sounds just like Jaehyun, with the deep voice and the joke and… and everything. 

“Do you consider a doctor curious about your case good or bad news?” you joke in return, which gets him to chuckle as he puts down his book - an old sports medicine text that you perused in med school - and wave you in. He has a thicker than thick file at the head of his bed, which… you know what that means already. But you keep a kind smile in place, because you know better than to show anything to a patient other than the faintest of interest in his background, “I'm Dr. y/l/n, I'm chief of trauma. May I look?”

He nods in affirmation, and the second you have his case file in your hands you know this is bad. The file is heavy. Patient files are only heavy if they have years of records kept within them.

He seems to sense that you’re holding yourself back from commenting (odd, you’d usually race for the answers, but now you’re worried over finding out what horrible thing is happening to this boy) - and he laughs easily, “I can tell you everything myself, I'm Sungchan Jung…”

They even have the same interpolation of their last name. This is too much.

“It’ll say in there I have early onset heart failure due to cardiomyopathy. But since you must want to know the details, my ejection fraction is five percent, I’m prone to so many blood clots you could call me clot man.” He waits for your reaction and you have to hurry and make yourself cough out a chuckle to not offend him before he continues, “Currently status 1A for a heart transplant. Here only because my blood pressure was getting low, fainted in class.”

He's told you enough - that things are not good and are getting worse, and when you hazard a glance at his charts inside, you'd upgrade that to 'bad.' Things are bad, he's barely hanging on even though on the outside he appears to be just fine.

Feeling out of sorts despite the many cases you've had that were as bad, if not worse, you attempt to keep things as lighthearted as he did, “Damn, whoever your doctor is taught you right–,” and your words wither when you flip to the front of the file and see Minho Choi, MD, FACS emblazoned across the front of it. You let out a tiny, tired sigh and admit, “Well, you’re in good hands.”

As much as Minho irks you, he is the best surgeon in trauma that also specializes in cardiothoracics. Sungchan must’ve been a case that your colleague stole from the ER without alerting you, yet you don't have the energy to be annoyed about it.

Sungchan smiles like he's aware but will take the encouragement from you anyways, and then he fiddles with the fabric of his tee while explaining, “Yeah, my heart just gave out in the middle of my game and DC’s been with me ever since.”

Your heart, in a turn of irony, beats so hard. All of this feels too coincidental to be real. 

You sink down into the chair by the foot of his bed, and wonder, “Game?”

“Yeah, I play football for UM. Number eighty-one, wide receiver.”

You force your eyes open and shut to make sure that it is still Sungchan in the bed and you’re not dreaming up another horrible nightmare starring your neighbor. His round, proud chestnut face is there when you open them again, and you notice that his almost-purple shirt emblazoned with a massive 81 is actually the maroon of University of Minnesota - you know the color from Seulgi’s scrubs.

And he’s still talking without realizing your internal panic, “It’s my junior year and I'm planning on going pro if things go alright here… Which is a pretty big ask, so you better keep DC on his toes!” 

You have this sinking feeling that you’re about to do exactly what he’s asking, then take it about ten steps too far.

“Will do,” you murmur, contemplative and quiet. “Who do you want to play for?”

“The Vikings, of course!” Sungchan’s sweet goodness comes pouring out, “I'm a good Minnesota boy!”

It nearly drowns you in a kind of stressful, unpredicted serendipity. You know Sungchan isn’t Jaehyun and Jaehyun isn’t Sungchan, you fundamentally realize you’re here with a boy who only looks like your neighbor must’ve ten years ago, but you just… It doesn’t feel right. 

“Are you here alone? Do you need some company?” you wonder.

 You would never give yourself the option to stay late at the hospital if you weren’t getting a surgery out of it, not to mention you’re tired down to your bones both emotionally and physically. But this feels like an exception.

“My girlfriend goes to school in Chicago. She’s on her way here, so I'll be good soon,” Sungchan answers, but from the way his eyes dart to the chair when you stand up… you can tell he wants you to stay.

You get it, hospital rooms are cold and lonely. In the times you’re not running in and out of them, you hate being in one - because you’re forced to contemplate what might’ve happened another time in this room. You tell yourself not to linger over the missing mention of his family, parents, siblings, cousins because, well. Not everyone is you. Most people have an excuse.

And while you do want to stay and get to know him more, you are so fucking exhausted you might end up sleeping in this poor boy’s room when he just wants peace. 

A rush of inappropriate chatter for this time of night comes through the open door, and you peek to see Jaemin, Jeno, and Ningning heading to the intern lounge to start their pre-night shift break. That gives you the perfect solution to your problems.

With a gesture for Sungchan to wait, you kick the chair out to roll yourself into the hallway, and then you call after them, “Hey, kids!”

The three of them jolt as if they’re struck by lightning. It takes them about three times as long to turn around as a normal person would, since they’re terrified of what awaits them, and their scrunched up faces tell you the same thing. Maybe this boy has softened you in the past five minutes, but you just chuckle quietly and clarify, “Don’t worry, it’s not Doc Doom right now. I need a favor.”

They come immediately when you roll yourself back into the room because, well. It might not be Doc Doom, but it’s still you.

Crowding into Sungchan’s space and glancing around with a bit of muted curiosity to avoid staring at him head on, Jaemin, Jeno, and Ningning wait about like obedient baby birds for their orders. 

You hold out your arms in front of the three of them and do the introductions with Sungchan, “These are our illustrious interns, who are still baby doctors learning everything they need to know.” You hear Jaemin’s scoff and whip your gaze to intimidate him into silence, then you arrange yourself back into the headspace of kindness to do the same introduction in reverse, “Doctors, this is Sungchan Jung, who is here on a case with Dr. Choi. He might need a little company every so often, which presents itself as an opportunity for you. You will learn about his case, which he can tell you about himself,” he laughs in appreciation and you feel so warm after, “and also hone your patient and bedside manner skills.”

The interns have more free time, can be the perfect babysitters for someone that’s closer to their age than yours. Not to mention they get the doubled reward of a rare cardio case to follow from start to finish - unheard of in trauma, considering how many patients either A) die or B) are quick fixes shipped off to other departments.

They’re still stuck on the babysitting part, so you sweeten the pot by adding the incentive they’re looking for, “In between your cases I want you monitoring this one. Coming up with ideas for treatment courses, reading literature to keep up to date on advancements for his condition, scrubbing in on similar surgeries. I want you to do whatever the patient wants.” 

You’re going to know if they don’t. 

“W-what about Dr. Choi?” Ningning manages a shaky question, which, by the looks on the other two, is what they’re most afraid of.

Minho will understand. Sometimes things are more than just case numbers or getting a cool surgery out of a patient. 

“I’ll deal with him,” you reassure them, in the tone that means nothing but business.

Not two seconds after, the three of them surround Sungchan’s bed and ask him every question possible under the sun. His smile blooms into fullness and the coloring in his cheeks starts to return as he gets the kind of attention he’s been sorely missing with both his girlfriend and family gone.

Satisfied, you turn to go and he catches your eye over the heads of the interns racing to check his pulse and get his vitals redone. He gives you the second sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on a person and mouths, Thanks. You fill with quiet self-pride in return, for knowing exactly what he wanted and advocating for a patient when he didn’t know how to speak up. 

You get it. It’s weird existing alone like that. 

—

Sungchan is in your head all the way back to your place.

You can’t believe (you can, but this whole thing has got you being very dramatic) someone so young is at the hospital with such a big issue like needing a heart transplant. You stayed away from peds as an intern because it didn’t feel intense enough for you, and you’re glad you did so now - seeing that many sick young people would certainly take a toll on you. 

You don’t understand why this case out of all of them is making you all nostalgic and softhearted. You’ve operated on way younger and seen way worse–, 

“Did you forget we had a date this evening?”

You glance up from your existential internal monologue to see Jaehyun leaning against the doorframe of his house, shirtless yet showered. Which means he got home and cleaned up because he remembered your plans rom the call…. and then he waited around for you. 

You’re taken aback - not by the kindness of him remembering but by the relief you feel that he looks okay - and then you have no idea what your brain is doing to you until you feel yourself running. You run right through the hallway, looking and feeling and acting like a crazy person, and then you launch yourself at Jaehyun in a hug. 

He stumbles back in surprise when you grab onto his torso and snuggle yourself into him as close as possible, but you need to hear his heart. You can tell the rhythm of most heartbeats even without a stethoscope, and when you hold your breath you think that the cadence of his is set in the reliable systolic and diastolic pressures of someone healthy. But maybe you’ll force him to let you check it later.

He hugs you like he’s born out of a total dream, infusing his embrace with a kind of warm commiseration that makes you feel like you’d never need to be this worried about someone again. That melts into quiet happiness when you can feel his smile catch in your hair, then stop and start again when he realizes he’s doing that and can't decide if he needs to stop. 

Jaehyun is appropriately worried, though, when he lifts your head off of his chest so he can look at you and warble, “Are you okay?”

You can’t tell him the details, because of HIPAA, because of the oath you swore, because of the promise you made to never mix work with your personal life..

But you break a little - a lot, farther than you've ever broken - anyways. 

Break the rules, break your decorum, break your heart the tiniest bit, you stare up in Jaehyun’s eyes - you’ve never seen any this concerned yet this affectionate - and tell him, “I had a patient that looked just like you.”

It was scary. You were scared.

His mouth makes a little round o that makes you feel better for no reason, and then his arms tighten around you. “And you can’t tell me more because of hippo?”

“It’s HIPAA,” you chuckles quietly.

It feels good to laugh, how does he always know exactly what to say to get you to do so? Hippo...

“I know,” Jaehyun whispers, his nose crinkling with amusement when your jaw drops upon realizing he tricked you. His shoulder knocks into your chin so softly, and he teases, “I get the same lecture from team doctors every year. Wanted to see your pretty smile.”

And like he’s cast a spell over you, the sadness drips away and you find yourself dizzy and grinning - like you’re still in a dream, but only the good kind.

His head dips a bit lower, so does his voice, “Were you worried about me?”

“Yes,” you answer with no hesitation. 

You called him, you worried, you fretted, you lingered, you ran, all because that patient reminded you exactly of him. He can’t get sick, he’s too good and pure for that. 

Jaehyun pokes your cheek and giggles, “Hehe, you were worried about meeeee! You like meeeeeee!” And before you can scoff and say no, despite your cheeks feeling sort of hot and your smile not disappearing, he tickles your side and makes you scream in laughter,  “You know you caaaaaan’t, since I got all your favorites!”

He shifts to the side so you can peek through his door, spot his homey dining table covered with the worst kind of burgers and fries and wings from the diner down the street - the greasiest food possible to make amends for one of the most stressful days possible. He squeezes you one last time and then rips the joke, “Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor? Why are you eating this stuff? The waitress looked at me like I was crazy when I told her I needed it for my friend’s bad day and not, like, a child’s birthday party.”

He…. he got this food for you because he somehow knew that you weren’t having a good day.

He knew.

—

In the middle of dinner, it just comes blurting out, Can I use my stethoscope to listen to your heart.

Jaehyun freaks out for a full fifteen minutes after convincing himself he has something called a ‘heart whisper,' not a heart murmur, which he definitely doesn’t have. But after he pries it out of you after another ten minutes of whining, Jaehyun, I’m still worried and want to make sure you’re okay, you think the inside of Jaehyun’s apartment might explode from how far he puffs his chest out. 

You pretend to not know that when he “goes into the bathroom to wash his hands,” he’s doing pushups in the hallway to make himself look all muscled and huge. You can see him doing it, he’s so silly. 

And then you’re the silly one for even having this idea. Because Jaehyun lounges on the couch right after, and with his legs spread like that and his arms stretched out, you have a hard time grappling with the notion you’re going to have to sit in that crook by his side to get close enough to hear his pulse.

Because, yes, you’ve seen all the muscles before, hemmed and hawed about the anatomical precision his body was carved out in. But you’ve never had the chance to see A) the sparse freckles dotting his pearly tan, B) the tiny scar he has on one of his pecs, C) his clear skin that always smells like soap no matter what. He holds himself back from grabbing you and lowering you into a position that is upon him instead of just nearly upon him on the safer cushion, and trying to avoid the flex of his abs or his hands becomes a health hazard.

Unless you want ringing in your ears, you have to ignore your surroundings - an impossible feat considering the second you press the metal drum right against his sternum, Jaehyun lets out a loaded hiss at the sensation that burns your eardrums into oblivion. You have to go into neutral impartiality, pretend this is a person you don’t know and not your very hot and kind neighbor, black everything out except for the normal sinus rhythm, one-two, flawless beat of his heart. 

His heart’s fine. It’s fine. 

You glance at your hand on the drum, find it gripped so hard your knuckles have turned white, and when you’re about to make a sheepish joke about coming too fast… to conclusions… you feel a burst of strange heat upon your cheek. Then you almost slip into unconsciousness when you see the way Jaehyun’s staring. You don’t think he realizes it’s so blatant - the pull of his eyes down the sweep of your braid, his breathing hewn in quiet reverence, eyelashes flickering in this affectionate breeze that he’s conjured up. He must’ve been staring like that for the entire time.

You’re loathe to break what feels like a weighty thread of tension, but your fingers have a mind of their own and let go of your stethoscope. Then he’s shaking himself back into reality and... and...

And letting his hand meander up your arm to hold your shoulder in a sun shower of warmth, to turn you back into him so that you’re nose-to-nose when he smiles - soft and dimpled and so, so wonderful - and asks, “Am I good, chickpea?”

Perfect is the answer. And not just the anatomically correct outline of his heartbeat.

“Yeah,” you whisper, faltering and fluttery under his gaze. “You’re good.” 

Jaehyun gives your shoulder one tiny squeeze, and whispers back, “Good.”

You cannot look at his mouth to determine whether or not that is an equally perfect part of him. It says too many things, dangerous in their humor and in their intentions, and you cannot be giving it any encouragement. But you want to. You really want to. 

“Good,” you whisper one last time, word lined with velvet, unfamiliar shadows you don’t know how to name.

You press your cheek back into his chest in another hug that ends with him pulling your legs onto his so you’re tiny and safeguarded within the circumference of his embrace, and you let your ear bask in his heartbeat for as long as you need to be satisfied. 

You can’t remember how you get home that night, only that you’re kind of sad that you do.

tbc.

Chapter Text

You’re hounded by interns the second you come through the ER to sign off on a case you took upstairs. For once, when they smile at you, you don’t feel like flipping them off before smiling back. 

“Guess what!” Jaemin is so breathless he's almost bursting out of his scrubs, “Sungchan’s stats are doing better! And we were talking with him and his girlfriend, and–,” 

His thought is finished by an equally as enthusiastic Jeno - a rare sight, considering how stoic and deep-seated his calmness is, “We’re going to get patient services involved to help them get settled! They expressed some anxiety at finding housing here in the city.”

“Also!” Not to be deterred, Ningning elbows in to make sure you hear her addition, “I’m going to go to the library later to read up on his cardiomyopathy and ensure we’re on the best course of treatment!”

Wow. You’re actually both proud and surprised this turned out to be a motivating push for them.  

You gesture for them to go along with their plan as they’ve detailed... then cave and decide to appreciate them verbally, just in case that’s what they need, “Good work! I’d love to sit down with you all and hear–,” 

Before you can go off with them, a loud, aggressive male voice rings out throughout the emergency room, “CAN I PLEASE SEE A DOCTOR?!”

The interns roll their eyes, used to the masses taking advantage of overworked nurses and doctors in the ER. Even in the corner, charge nurse Wendy isn’t bothering to hide her groan of disdain. You’re going to have to call security for yet another belligerent drunk guy that came in here to get a banana bag and go off on his merry way to enjoy the day. From the way the others are avoiding the bed, that patient has been bothersome the entire time they’ve been here aaaaaand have also cut the line and gotten into a bed without being told they could.

Which means, as chief of trauma, this is your duty to deal with. 

With a sigh and an eye roll, you grab the patient tablet and pull back the curtain, not bothering to look up while you drone, “Sir, there’s a line, you need to–,”

There’s a woman in the bed and she looks horrible - even for your standards. Skin devoid of any life-giving color, hair stringy and matted with sweat, body curled into itself out of pain that you can’t see on her face considering it’s tucked into her own shoulder. She gives a shuddering cough that seems to shake the room, but you can’t get a closer look at her because she’s folded in two in agony. You page general surgery and cardiothoracics immediately, and you send Wendy to get the ER attending on call to come and take over examining her.

You make amends for your behavior with fuming man who yelled for help on her behalf, “Sir, I am sorry for the delay. How long have you been waiting?-,”

He takes off his baseball cap as if that will help him project onto you when he roars, “It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been waiting, if it was a day, an hour, a minute! This is my child and you have to prioritize taking care of her!”

The patient coughs through another wheezing breath that tortures every inch of her existence, but she manages to give the man a tiny smile, and whispers, “Daddy, I'm twenty-nine, it's okay.”

Your fingers go the tiniest bit slack against the tablet.

Gone is the terrifying man that wreaked havoc through the entire OR and here is a little girl’s father instead. He races to her side and holds her hair so carefully, strokes it in soothing reassurance. “That doesn’t mean you’re not my child, marshmallow. The doctors are going to take care of you.” He transforms back into dad-bear mode when he snaps at you, “She lives with me because her apartment is getting renovated and she just started coughing blood out of nowhere.”

You know you have to say something. Yet you’re drawn in by how despite not looking at her, he's able to move his hand in the exact path to hold hers when she whimpers in pain and is too weak to reach. And you… you’re so moved by the sight of a parent taking care of a person who is your age that your feet stumble in the opposite direction to the attendings and interns rushing in now that they’ve realized this is a critical case. 

While you understand that parents like this dad and Jaehyun’s mother exist, it doesn’t make sense that you can’t remember what your dad looks like outside of third party pictures. The glimpses of your mother and siblings that aren’t snapshots you found while on an expedition for pain are even sparser.

Were you really that bad? That they didn’t want you at all? 

You’ve never wanted them to want you beyond generic strains of longing you were too human not to feel. You were too haughty and too petty otherwise to stoop to begging and needing them. But it would’ve been nice to have someone around while you were going through the agonies of growing up. You were just a kid when it all happened, how were they okay with letting a child go like that–, 

“Doctor! You have a visitor!”

There’s a ton of doctors around right now, but that muted tone of respect is reserved only for you. You don’t know if you can handle much more today - it’s only been one hour of work and you already feel like you’re at the fight or flight barrier of hour sixteen of your regular schedule. But you wipe away the anxiety to turn to where the security guard is pointing and… it’s Jaehyun there, in his workout clothes and his backpack, waving at you through the glass sliding doors.

Your nervous system floods itself with relief and the urge to go over and wrap yourself around him pokes at you. But you can’t because you’re at work. 

Also… you’re at work, what is he doing here? 

You shuffle through the doors when you make sure no one is paying attention, and he stares at the inside of your hospital all funny and in awe, soaking in the gore and the other people in scrubs going just as hard as you do. When you’re right by his side, Jaehyun breaks out into the sweetest smile, then gestures at the big MAYO CLINIC ER sign and points out, “It says ERRRRRR there.”

Like, he makes the noise. Errrrrrrrr. And every last molecule of stress dissipates out of your body.

“ER stands for emergency room,” you correct through a giggle of your own, before you pinch his bicep and wonder, “What are you doing here?”

Even though you live across the street, he’s never thought to stop by on his way to or from practice. And though it’s inappropriate for him to do so, you cannot deny how happy you are that he did. 

“It’s so funny to see you at work, you look like a tiny trauma queen,” he murmurs.

Even though it isn’t the most eloquent compliment, you feel this funny, familiar heat that accompanies arrhythmia build into your chest when he stares at you in your scrubs. People are noticing him through the door and double-taking when they realize who it is, and you feel all sweaty and wrinkly and ugly, but Jaehyun can’t stop smiling at you.

Then, he flinches and his hands bat at his shorts pockets and his butt (??? you laugh so hard) and his sweater pockets and his backpack, before he pulls out something from the water bottle compartment with a flourish, “You left your steth… ste… steg… you left this at my house.”

You take the stethoscope, unaware you’d left it in his house and didn’t have it to examine patients, blushing so hard while thinking of what you were doing. That is quickly washed away by the cool disappointment in yourself for not taking that patient and her father as seriously as you could. What were you doing? Your head usually never affects you like this. 

“Everything okay here?” The careful way Jaehyun prods, coupled with how his stare evaporates into vapors of concern means he knows you’re not feeling like yourself. You don’t know how he's realized that - you thought you rallied to be as cheery as possible for the mayor of cheer. 

“I’m okay. Just a dad and his daughter,” you mumble through the oncoming tides of blankness.

You don’t… you don’t know what it’s like, you don’t! Her dad brought her here and fought for her and was on the verge of breaking down into desperate violence before you stepped in. You don’t have any idea what’s that like, to love someone so much you’d do anything for them.

“Let me know if you’re not,” Jaehyun murmurs, words hitting you at the exact cadence the anticipated arrhythmia strikes. “See you.”

He tweaks a spot on your cheek where he has his dimples in his and the feel of his hand stains right into you. You watch him with curious fascination as he laughs at the ER sign again and takes a picture of it, probably to show Mark.

You don’t know how to describe this feeling, even though you know every single term to describe feelings. 

You take a deep breath and collect yourself to go back inside, to see if there’s anything you can do to help ameliorate the situation you caused. And you make it about half a step before Minho comes storming out the ER doors. You twist to look for an incoming ambulance and then realize that he’s heading straight for you… You don’t have a chance to call him out or move out of the way because he grabs your arm and shoves you right into a corner of the loading bay where no one can see.

He spits the second you have privacy, “Why the hell are the interns all over my VIP out of nowhere?! Telling me that you, of all people, put that on them?!”

You’re in the middle of an emotionally unstable rupture in your life and it is taking up all your capacity to think as to why Minho might be mad. You had a logical argument worked out to explain why it would help if the interns were involved with Sungchan and you don’t want to mess it up, especially on behalf of said interns who were so excited. 

You press your forehead against your palm and request as calmly as you can, “Can you give me a second?”

That dad and his daughter, you can’t see them through the door anymore. You have no idea what that means. If she’s okay or if your sudden personality transplant doomed a patient before she even had a chance. 

“No, now,” Minho snaps, shaking your shoulders to get you to focus only on him. “Because I'm supposed to be getting him a scan and they won’t let me unless you’re consulted."

Oh, those maggots.

They took it too far in their eagerness, but you suppose it’s not their fault. 

You don’t have it in you to fight, so you just sigh and make amends, “Sorry, I'll speak with them and just–,"

“Take them off,” he orders.

And then he snaps his fingers at you.

The rage starts to simmer underneath the layers of exhaustion you’ve built, but you’re quite proud of the way that you control yourself, “No. No way. This is an opportunity for them.”

They have a chance not only to prove to you that they're competent doctors, but to prove to themselves that they can go beyond being surgeons. To actually be healthcare professionals that take pride and interest in someone’s health on their behalf when they cannot. 

“Since when did you care about opportunities for interns?” Fine, you’ll accept that this is out of character for you considering how you’ve treated the other intern classes–, “Is this about the position? Public health in America is not the same as three shitty interns running a few tests on a precious patient. You can’t take this case from me just to pad your resume.”

The fact that Minho dares to question your motivations without even hearing what your thought process was? Never mind not having the trust in you to assume you wouldn’t mess with a person’s life just to advance your career?

What the fuck.

You don’t throw a tantrum or draw everyone’s attention like you’re prone to doing. You wrench yourself out of his grasp and growl at him with abject coldness, “Don’t you dare tell me how to run my fucking department.” You know he’s going to argue he’s an attending that has had a decade of experience more, but he cannot get it twisted here, “You work for me, regardless of seniority or how old you are or where you went to med school. If I want those interns working that case, they’re going to work that case.”

He’d have to argue this with the chief herself - you don’t have to calculate the odds to know that Chief Kwon is going to take your side in advancing the education of young doctors, every single time.

He rolls his eyes, a tier worse than the finger snapping, and the scoff is worse than all of that combined, “You can’t do that.”

Your brain is going to be autoclaved in the steam of your indignancy when you’re done with him. 

“Yes, I can,” you retort. “Or are you so jealous of me that you’ve forgotten what chief of trauma means?”

He’s never brought it up once, but you know it’s always bothered Minho that you were picked for the position over him. You used to respect him for it, assumed that he appreciated the decision and thought it was for the best. But he’s been festering instead. 

His onyx irises coat in the rust of distaste for the first time in forever - and at you, not at the situation or the argument - and he doesn’t say anything. You know he knows he can’t argue because you’re right. You have the power, you were given the power, and since there’s nothing he can do about it, you’re going to fucking use it.

You give him a taunting, shooing wave of your hands back to the ER, and then have at it with the sarcastic brightness, “Go, get the scan and make sure both the interns and I get a copy of it! Thank you!”

Minho opens his mouth to argue, and you give him an innocent cock of your head daring him to do so. He storms away in a fit of childish rage. You doubt he’s going to do the scan, but at least he’s not bothering you.

You knock your head back against the brick for a moment of consuming stress, and when you look back through the doors of the ER, every single person in your vicinity is trying not to stare. The hurried flicks of their gazes your way and how none of them stop to offer up any other support tells you that they not only heard that, they were intimidated by you and felt as if you were in the wrong. Which in turn feels so alienating because you were only standing up for yourself. 

A very impressed whistle echoes through the ambulance bay, followed by, “God damn! Get ‘em girl!”

You turn around and Jaehyun is still there by the benches for the EMTs, which means he also heard and saw all of that. But his words and the tiny glow in his eyes are palpable to the point that you get confused. Why doesn’t he look intimidated? Everyone else looked like they were scared as shit. And it's not just now, but all the time - whenever you walk into an OR, whenever you decide to act how you want - yet he never does. 

He never does and you don’t know why. He should be intimidated, you’re intimidating.

“Go home, Jaehyun. You’re not even supposed to be here,” you order flatly, not accepting his compliment. 

Did he think you needed protection or something? Waited around so that he could play hero with a colleague that you have no problem going up against? 

You don’t need his help. You don’t need anyone’s help. 

Jaehyun’s face falls in a downturn of hurt that makes you uncomfortable, even as he pushes through in support, “You were totally in the right, he was being a dick.” He lowers his voice like you’re in on a joke together, “That was Minho again, right? I told you he was bad news–,” 

“Go home!” you exclaim, finding yourself at the breaking point of frustration. “This is my job, you can’t just show up here! I don’t come to the stadium when you’re working!”

You’d never undermine the career he spent years preparing for, so why does he think it’s okay to do that with you? Because you’re a woman?

Jaehyun sticks his lip out in a pout, your words cutting him up into pieces of distress. He immediately leaves with his hands tucked into his pockets and his head hung, which… the pathetic sight skyrockets your anxiety and makes you long to call him back, despite your brain reminding you he was wrong first. 

The anxiety crests into a splitting headache when the patrons of the OR appear far more scared of you now than they ever were before. Which is now valid, because only a mean person can treat someone that nice the way you did.

—

You get to the end of your shift and the idea of going home and seeing Jaehyun’s door closed - as it will be, without a doubt - brings your headache back. It hits you in such full force you just lie down on your office couch and lock the door before anyone else can bother you. 

Your personal phone dings with a calendar reminder, *FERGIE VOICE* LET’S MAKE SOME BARBECUE! -MARK*, which you have no idea how it ended up there, and it makes your head hurt more. You feel bad for treating Jaehyun that way, and you don’t know how to make up for it. Even though Mark invited you, you doubt Jaehyun would want you to show up at his work event after all the fuss you kicked up about yours. 

—

You’re stuffing a banana in your mouth as you’re switching from one OR to another - the drawback of sleeping at the hospital means you get no special food deliveries, which you suppose is also a drawback of being an asshole - and you cram it all in at once to have a free hand when your phone starts ringing. 

You weigh the decision to check the caller ID (just because) but you press accept in case it’s an emergency. Luckily for you, Seulgi’s pretty voice comes ringing through the speakers, “Hi! Hope it’s okay that I'm calling you.”

You check the whiteboard of surgical schedules while you pass by through to OR two and realize you have an extra fifteen minutes of freedom. Not that you have anything to do, you decide you can spend it on the phone with your sort of friend, “I’m between surgeries, so go for it.”

“Prenatal mom with twins that’s having some chest pains but a normal EKG,” she offers up.

Which... interesting.

You thought this was going to be a career question or something more personal, but you’re always happy to talk cases. Especially when that takes your mind off of certain other things. 

“What did your attending say?”

“Didn’t think it was anything important or notable.”

But Seulgi uses this tone that implies she thinks it’s important and-or notable.

“And you? Normal or something to look into?” You’re a little wary of getting involved here after all the drama that went down with her crash-C, but you doubt you’ll get in trouble for asking a quick set of questions. Not to mention, interacting with another doctor that is interested in learning from you to both improve A) personally and B) for her patients’ improved care, is… nice for once.

“I realize it’s a flawless EKG and that should be the end of things, but I just have an anxious stomach over it,” Seulgi admits once you’ve given her the opening, what she’s probably been holding in since she first went to her attending with the question.

You don’t fault her for this, several of your biggest career moves were based off of an inexplicable gut feeling you had. 

“You can do an echo or a scan if you really want to, but you should know a lot of pregnant women just get heartburn, especially with twins,” you offer up the scientific evidence first to reassure her as a doctor, then you give the advice to reassure her as a person, “I respect the feeling though. I have it, too.”

You need to encourage her to feel this more, rather than teach her it’s something to hide. 

“What do I say to my attending?”

“Ah, I can’t tell you that, that would definitely get me in trouble." You’re being sarcastic, but you're not risking getting in trouble with a second chief of surgery when you’re waiting for your reaming from this one. It’s only a matter of time before the news of your fight with Minho will make it all the way to the highest level, and you’re sure Chief Kwon is just preparing to lay down the hammer.

“Shit.” The curse somehow feels both out of place and elegant coming from her, “I'm not good at making excuses, you can probably tell I'm too nice.” 

Seulgi has always come across as the most genuine, good person, which you thought was impossible to find.

“Hey, I'm open to listening more though, just call me whenever you need.” Now that you’ve taken on more responsibilities in your department, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing anything out of turn with Seulgi. You’re only branching out and educating other doctors. It’s the kind of thing that would be expected of you as Surgeon General... if your petty fight with your coworker hasn’t ended your chances already.

“You too!” Seulgi chirps, before she backtracks and laughs at herself in such an honest expression of joy you admire her for being able to do so, “Not that you need anything ever, but yes!”

Ha.

You doubt that you’d need help - surgically or in any other regard - either, but who knows. Stranger things have happened.

—

After another day of back to back to back surgeries - scheduled on purpose to keep your mind busy and not filled with anything other than your job - you’re filing away the case notes from the past week in the ER when you come across a specific note from that morning. You’ve been in a perpetual state of anxiety about this unanswered detail... and you finally discover that the young woman who came into the hospital with her father had an ulcer that perforated. Dr. Do repaired it for her in a quick surgery that had no complications and she went home two nights after.

And in the scheduling notes, written out in the general chief’s blockish, representative handwriting, is a sentence that says, simply, Patient’s father asked to send his gratitude to CoT for stepping in. 

CoT. Chief of trauma.

You want to cry so badly that you have to press a paper towel into your eyelids, so the bite of the scratch can dull out the sting of the salt. 

—

You don’t know how you get through an entire week without seeing Minho or having him on any of your cases.

But you end up taking a patient to the ICU at the same time he’s going up to check one of his, and the elevator seems like it’d shatter under your silence if you don’t say anything. Though, he’s pointedly got his head turned to the wall so he doesn’t have to perceive you, even in his periphery. 

“Listen,” you sigh, and despite not turning, his fingers twitch in his white coat's pocket which means he’s listening. “I'm sorry for the ambush again and I swear I will not poach the case from you. That’s all.”

You’re trying to find some bigger meaning in your career - whether it be A) watching Sungchan get better from a distance, B) giving the interns the courage to work through an entire case without you by their side, or C) making Minho see you in a different light, if possible. You’re just not sure why this all seems to be happening now.

That flips some possessive switch in Minho. Now that he knows his precious case won’t fall into your hands, he turns back around without a trace of return apology, only a teaspoon of victory and a zest peel of lust. “I'll forget it tonight when I'm fucking you. Want to come over? I’m not on call.”

How did….?

You know what, you don’t even want to figure out how this took a turn. You just wanted an honest, emotional moment where you could express what you were feeling and have him do the same. Not to mention now you’re going to feel weird turning him down because it’s obviously his attempt at an olive branch. So you shrug and accept when all you want to do is go home. 

The elevator dings on the ICU floor and you get ready to wheel your patient out when the doors open to reveal the chief in her scrubs. Chief Kwon spots the two of you together, rolls her eyes, and you brace yourself for the flogging–, “Do I want to know about this fight that people are talking about?”

You'd screwed your eyes shut in that moment of fear, and now you peel them apart slowly to see Chief Kwon all huffy and annoyed, instead of angry and on the warpath. You have no idea what version of the story made it up to her office, but it doesn’t seem accurate. Not if she’s refrained from calling you out after you broke every possible rule of decorum in front of an insanely crowded ER.

“No,” Minho answers - right away and for the both of you - before she can change her mind.

You cannot believe he left you so angry you yelled at a person that shouldn’t have been yelled at. You don’t want to get to that point again.

“Good. You wouldn’t want me to report that on either of your case files to the government.” The underlying threat is there in both her acceptance and the narrowed-eye stare she lasers both your ways, before shoving you and Minho out of the elevator and taking it alone.

Which means Chief Kwon did hear the right story.

She just thinks you’re both in the wrong and doesn’t want to double fault Mayo out of the running for a prestigious position. You suppose you have no choice but to accept that - better than only you taking the blame, which you thought was going to happen. You don’t know why Chief Kwon stuck her neck out for you, though. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she does.

—

That night, you do take Minho up on his offer.

You back to his opulent apartment with him, and don’t even bother to bring up the suggestion of having dinner before. You have sex three times before you’re too tired to go on, and each time he makes it a point to tell you how intimidatingly sexy it is when you’re domineering and angry like you were in that fight.

And the dirty talk is just…. It isn’t as effective as it usually is.

You don’t mind being intimidating at work, but you… you wouldn’t want your boyfriend to find you so.

—

Mark sent you all of the information for the barbecue in the text of that calendar notification (albeit very misspelled and with way too many :) emojis)

You ultimately made the decision to go in person to tell him you couldn’t go - the logic made sense at one point, you think. But you got pulled in as a second on a bloody, bloody, bloody and awful surgery and when it was over you kinda just showered and got in an uber without thinking. Now you’re here outside US Bank Stadium, smelling meat getting grilled just like you cauterized that gory wound, and on top of that, there is a very confusing, delicious barbecue sauce smell. And there are people - mostly drunk men - like, everywhere, just screaming at the top of their lungs. 

Plus, you almost get hit by a football about ten times getting to where you’re supposed to go.

Through the crowd, you see Mark’s hair done up obnoxious and spiky, dyed purple with glitter spray. He's standing amongst a long line of who must be the other players - they’re huge, your only clue - at the serving tables. 

You waddle over as fast as your tired legs can move you and drop your bag off with a grunt, “Ugh, it smells just like death.”

Mark screams out loud in surprise as he hops in place like a funny rabbit and tries to figure out where that noise came from. When he sees you, he escalates into a horrid screech of, “What are you doing here?!,” before he holds you out in front of him and his screeching gets even louder, “What are you wearing?!”

Even though you know you changed, you look down just in case you accidentally walked out of the hospital in blood-stained clothes. When you see nothing but green, you wonder out loud, “My scrubs?”

Nothing in his calendar event specified a dress code.

You’re being shook back and forth like a rag doll in Mark’s surprisingly strong grip as he dives into dramatics, “This is a Vikings season ticket holder event! Where’s your Vikings gear? You’re wearing Packers colors!”

You have no idea what’s going on. The Mayo Clinic doctors have worn green since the second you started as an intern - starting with a nice sage as an intern, olive green as a resident, and now forest green as an attending. 

“What the hell are packers?” you mumble, looking specifically for a group of people in green packing things in boxes. 

“Who are the Packers?!” Mark yelps and glares, then slams a fist in the middle of a bare back standing behind him to get that person’s attention–, “Jeong, are you telling me you’ve not taught this woman a single thing?”

Mark’s not punching a random person’s back, he’s punching Jaehyun’s back. Jaehyun, who looks over and is completely surprised to see you there, eyes going all wide in his face. You’re the one more surprised  - since you’ve never seen him like this, with his blonde hair also dyed in purple and black streaks under his eyes, with a ridiculous number of Vikings temporary tattoos dotted across his bare chest… which is indeed bare despite the fall chill. 

Jaehyun is not as friendly as he usually is. He smiles but not to the point his dimples come out, waves but not to the point that his cheeks shake in excitement, and then gets back to serving people their food. Your stomach turns with the same tide of regret you’ve been swept into since you yelled at him. He didn’t deserve it, not when he did nothing but support you. That was just a culmination of your terrible moods and you don’t know how to explain it to him without sounding condescending or whiny.

Mark gets back in your face so you can’t focus on his friend, “Where’s your dish!” You glance down in your bag to see a discarded Chipotle bowl you attempted to finish and failed…. two days ago. You feel so lost until he clarifies again, “This is a barbecue, you’re supposed to bring a dish! That’s why I invited you! I assumed you know how to cook!”

Why on earth would he do that? Just because you’re smart? You haven’t cooked a day in your life.

“I spent thirteen hours attaching a man’s arm back to his body today…” you groan to yourself as you piece together the ridiculous schedule of the past day. As you rub the pain out of your neck you catch when Jaehyun glances, intrigued, at the mention of the gory epicness, then quickly shakes his head and looks away before he thinks you’ve seen him.  Feeling another sharp pang in your chest at not being able to share the story with him, and you turn back to Mark to mumble the rest of your thought, “When the fuck would I have time to cook barbecue when I was cauterizing his arm pieces together?”

The nearest Vikings fan sends you a look of utter disgust, then covers their child’s ears and shuffles them away before they can hear more gruesome details. Yikes.

“Jeong, we’re mooching off of you because you made five dishes,” Mark announces.

You look down and see that in front of Jaehyun’s spot on the table are five pretty casserole dishes, each labeled in his neat handwriting as, “My mama’s ______," with the dish name filled in for all to see. There’s mac and cheese, a full on ham with barbecue sauce glaze, candied yams, a platter of some savory baked good, and one more dish that smells so much like glistening garlic that you swoon in hunger. 

He cooked all of this? It looks so good. 

Jaehyun is flustered trying to hand off the food to the ticket holders waiting and at the same time keep Mark from stealing his mac and cheese, all the while grumbling in a terse monologue, “Nobody on this goddamn team can cook, everything is catered or being grilled because it’s ‘manly’ and I didn’t know how much butter to use. Mama only uses homemade churned butter and it’s not the same as supermarket…”

You know you really aren’t in a place to be laughing at anything he’s saying, but you can’t help the quiet giggle. Who else can be this worried about butter?

Mark successfully steals the mac and cheese and Jaehyun is nearly in tears at that point, so you have to get over yourself and stand in between them to prevent a mishap. 

And somehow, with you next to him, Jaehyun seems to relax.

You get a few weird looks because of your scrubs and the fact that you don’t seem to know any of the Vikings cheers or catchphrases, but you dutifully dump mac and cheese on every person’s plate. Jaehyun’s mood improves and he serves the fans his food so lovingly, being the perfect southern gentleman with his how do you do’s and catch y’all later’s. You can tell they love him by how they linger by his spot on the table, come to him right for seconds, cut the line just to get another photo which he always obliges…

Which means that when Jaehyun was with the Falcons, the love must’ve been multiplied a thousand fold.

He must’ve been beloved to a point of worship, and it must’ve been so hard for him to leave. It makes you perceive him differently, and why he keeps hanging around you. He needed a friend, and probably still needs one. He and Mark seem close, but it’s notable to you that he doesn’t interact much with his teammates beyond generic platitudes. They’re tight but not brothers, and that must be another thing he misses - the connections he made by playing for one team for ten years. 

“Wait.” Mark tugs at the arm of your scrubs so that you’ll pay attention to him and not just shyly stare at Jaehyun. You slowly tear yourself away from watching Jaehyun give an old granny five slices of ham to listen, “You really reattached a man’s arm today? How is that even possible?”

Feeling weirdly comforted at the notion of talking about work, you shrug and nod, “He fell into a deli slicer, pretty clean cut.”

The ambulance came straight to the ER from the supermarket and the assistant deli manager hung onto his arm the whole way. Then you just put the pieces back together with neurosurgery and ortho like the tiniest puzzle.

Mark’s entire body shudders when he imagines in his mind what you had to do, “That’s fucking gross, I'm never eating sliced turkey again. I don’t get how you can do it.”

“We cover the person up."

Even though you’ve never really had an issue with seeing the kind of devastation that comes into the ER, that is the respectful way to go about things. That way, it doesn’t seem as overwhelming or gross while you're trying to focus. And you learned quite fast not to get emotionally attached to cases. You saw colleague after colleague break down when that one special patient shattered their optimism for eternity and decided pessimism was the way to go. 

Mark is obviously intimidated - like he’s been from the start, like everyone else ever - and you don’t want to leave the conversation on an awkward note. You don’t want him to be intimidated by you… because he seems like the kind of person you’d want to be friends with. You can’t just be an asshole. You can't. 

You search for a question that will demonstrate your interest appropriately, and settle on, “What does a kicker do?”

“Uh, kick the football?” Mark deadpans, kicking his foot out in demonstration.

He tries and fails to not look at you like you’re stupid. But you have genuinely no idea what that position does during a game. Besides, isn’t the whole distinction that people fuss over that football is named football yet you only throw the ball? 

Jaehyun overhears and laughs so cutely to himself you almost dump the mac and cheese all over the floor because you’re so distracted by his dimples. 

“But I'm just the backup,” Mark clarifies. “I only kick if number twenty-three over there gets injured.”

He points down to a man at the front of the line, with silver hair and an audible Australian accent, who laughs at the top of his lungs at every single thing that is said to him. Mark’s nose crinkles with the slightest bit of negative feeling - foreign in a ray of sunshine like him - and you hone in on something he’s trying to hide, “Do we not like him?”

This is exactly the same as when a hotshot attending tries to get in your business.  

“We do not,” Mark grumbles. 

And at the exact same time without looking over, Jaehyun growls, “We hate him,” mouth downturned in a frown directed that same guy’s way. The unhappiness is as out of place on him as it was on Mark. You find yourself automatically on their side because there’s no way two people as kind as them would decide out of the blue to start hating another person.

“I beat him in the tryouts but he and his agent claimed seniority," Mark clarifies, which doesn't make any sense to you. If he's better, shouldn't he play?  

“Oh….kay, well, maybe he’ll accidentally get injured in a gruesome way that I can fix.... but will give you a chance to kick." You feel lame and awkward when you don’t know enough about replacement kickers to make an accurate statement of support.

But it doesn’t matter, because Mark and Jaehyun look at each other over your head and both burst into laughter, slapping the table and holding their stomachs at the idea of their teammate getting hurt so badly that he needs to see you. And in turn, your heart feels light after being able to cheer them up. You hope that it’ll somehow work out for Mark, because Jaehyun is happy when he is. 

Next in line for some of Jaehyun’s extensive spread is a mom and her daughter, both with the same curly red hair and wearing well-loved Vikings jerseys. The little girl - who can’t be more than nine or ten - stops dead in her tracks when she sees Jaehyun. Her mouth stops and starts into a smile about ten thousand times, waffling between dying over her crush and being scared to see him in person. The whole time, her mother watches her with a devastatingly fond smile.

When her missing tooth grin beams at Jaehyun but no words come out, the mom nudges her and whispers, “Go ask for his autograph.”

The girl doesn’t move but she dutifully sticks out her Hello Kitty notebook and whispers, “Mr. Jeong, may I please have your autograph?”

Jaehyun gets mushy faster than you can think to yourself that it’s a guarantee he’s going to get mushy. And you’re talking the full package - his eyes folding into sweet crescents, his nose wrinkles blooming into fullness above his dimples, and you… You just know he loves kids and wants about fifteen of them.

You can’t relate. Kids are…. they’re unserious.

“Of course, you can get an autograph and a picture and everything,” he chirps, happier to see this little girl than he was with almost everyone else. 

“She was so happy when you were traded,” the mom tells him on her daughter’s behalf, as she walks her over to stand by Jaehyun’s side. “I can’t explain for the life of me why a born and raised Vikings fan fell in love with a Falcons player, but who knows!” She shakes her girl just in teasing for going against proper fandom and the girl blushes. Then she almost combusts when Jaehyun takes her hand for the picture. 

“I like your hair,” she whispers again, fingers flitting towards his bangs when he kneels to her height.

And she’s right, the purple spikes make him look goofy and charming and even more approachable than usual. You’re glad that someone is taking a picture of this so you can ask them for a copy–, 

Wait, what are you thinking? Huh?

His hair is just okay.

“Thanks, I like yours more,” Jaehyun compliments with natural ease, snaking his hand over to tweak the girl’s pigtail and break her tension.

This must be something he perfected with his sisters, furthering the thought that out of the fifteen kids he’s going to have, he probably wants fifteen of them to be girls. 

The mom sighs at the sight of her child so happy, sniffling with overflowing emotion, “This is our tradition, just us. We come to every Vikings game we can and I think you just made her - and me - very, very happy.” The girl musters up enough courage to lean her head into Jaehyun’s and hug him in thanks, and he comes aglow with the confirmation of the fans’ feelings. Then you're so surprised when the mom turns to you, watching silent behind them, and the tears actually fall from her eyes when she says, “And thank you for your service, ma’am. The Mayo Clinic doctors took good care of her dad before he left us.”

A gash of the most undiluted melancholy slices through your ches t.

This tradition formed after the death of their husband and father, somewhere in your hospital. You can’t even appreciate the fact that she correctly labeled you as a doctor because you’re experiencing grief-coated jealousy. You didn’t and don’t have any hobbies to share with anyone, let alone a person who wanted to share in them with you. And the idea that your happiness would make someone else happy in return, despite the crushing ruin of a loss, is foreign to the point of rejection. 

All you can manage is a muted smile of return, because…. because…. because you don’t like this feeling.

Before you turn to escape, you make subtle, strange, knowing eye contact with Jaehyun, and that feeling you don’t know how to interpret, either.

—

You found an abandoned lawn chair behind a pickup truck, cracked an unopened beer that was waiting in the cupholder, and have been ruminating over everything since. 

The dad and his daughter in your ER, the mom and her daughter today, you’re wondering if the universe you don’t believe in is trying to send you a sign - to make you sadder, to make you feel feelings when you don’t want to. You don’t want to start being affected by this. You’ve been holding it in for twenty-nine years and have only cracked for sixteen hours within that time frame.

It bears reiterating that you never want to heal that bridge. You never want to reach out to your family, there’s going to be no magical moment and the inevitable disappointment will burn more than any kind of pain you’ve ever experienced–, 

“Heads up!”

The call billows through your ears and you catch the barest glimpse of someone running your way before a football just… smacks you in the face. The leather explodes a rainbow of agony across the breadth of your nose and cheeks and then splatters to the concrete in a thud. 

Pissed at yourself that your reflexes didn’t help, you grab at your face and groan so loudly, “Ugh! What the fuck!” You wriggle your features about in a circle to check if anything is broken and all you experience is more relentless stinging. You don’t know how to diagnose this other than the obvious starting point - a probable concussion. 

You blink and the tears build into your eyes, clouding the picture of… Jaehyun... in this perfect halo of saltiness. His mouth stutters open as he falls to his knees in front of you and tries to grasp you while warbling, “Why didn’t you catch it, I said heads up!”

“Why would you think I'd catch it!” You almost scream in pain after responding, when just moving your mouth sends a lick of fire right up your nose.

You’re a surgeon, not an athlete, those skills don’t remotely overlap! The reflexes to stop an artery from bleeding out do not exactly apply to a huge hunk of leather missile-ing towards your face. This is not the same hand-eye coordination they teach you in med school!

Jaehyun clutches at your face and that makes the pain even worse, as does his louder than loud, “Everyone knows to catch it when I say heads up!”

“Everyone here is a football player,” you growl.

You reach blindly on the ground beside you and find the ball, then chuck it at him with as much aggression as you can muster… and he catches it with one hand without any visible effort.

Whoa.

Are you serious? Are you seriously impressed by this? Or can you write this off as a concussion symptom? Ugh, no, when you go through the checklist of concussion signs that follow a head trauma, you don’t think you hit any… which means all you’re going to get out of this is a football shaped bruise and a subtle blow to your ego - for thinking that Jaehyun is slick catching a ball like that. 

He sits right on the concrete in front of you, not caring one bit about getting dirty - country boy at heart - and then grabs your open beer. You think he’s going to swig from it, but no, no…. Not at all.

Jaehyun grasps your face, this time with a thousandfold more gentle, intentional strands of care in his fingertips, and twists your cheek so he can press the cold metal right against your inflamed skin. You don’t wince, not quite, but you do have to look away because it’s weird seeing him this close. The night you checked his heart with your stethoscope you had to focus hard to not look at any part of his body and now you’re unable to avoid how warm and gentle he is, in every sake of the words. 

That same funny feeling rushes to take over in your chest, though you hope it's just a symptom of your head. 

“Hi,” you whisper, the only thing you can think of.

Jaehyun flutters into stillness, not expecting you to be friendly to him, and his hands pressing further into your face just multiply the funny feeling.

“Thought you said you don’t come to the stadium when I'm working,” Jaehyun sprinkles the tiniest teaspoon through his words. Hearing it from his sweet mouth is another brick added to your wall of guilt… yet when he doesn’t see you laughing, his dimple pokes out when he clarifies, “Joking.”

You’re not entirely sure he is, though - Jaehyun always has an massive serving of honesty mixed in with everything he expresses. 

“Mark invited me and I thought you knew.” You could’ve sworn they made that silly calendar event together. But when he shakes his head in a tiny denial, you pause in a loaded crossroads of potential, before you hang your head and whisper, “Sorry.”

You’re not saying sorry for showing up without an invite, and you hope he knows that. 

He removes the beer can so his fingers can take a meandering turn over your cheek, and then his palm presses right into your face as he wonders, “Tough day?” 

He knows. He definitely does not mean today.

You lean into Jaehyun's hand, heavy and exhausted, and he holds you every step of the way. With his subtle, steady reassurance parked there, you admit, “One of the worst.”

It’s rare these days that you get into a fight at the hospital and at the same time are affected by a case in a personal manner. Jaehyun just happened to be there at the worst possible culmination of the two. You should’ve never taken it out on him, not when he stopped and waited around… in a show of support to you. Shit, you’re such an asshole.

Jaehyun presses his thumbs into the soft, unbruised part of your cheeks and confesses, “I still like you, which means... unfortunately… I'm going to let this slide, too.”

He needs to stop saying that. It’s just… it’s too much, right? You’re supposed to find it too much? How does he still like you after the way that you’ve treated him?

And why can’t you be more assertive about saying out loud that you don’t reciprocate?

Because all you can blurt at that moment is, “Did you do this a lot in Atlanta?”

Watching him here, carefully opening up himself to the good folks of Minnesota - who have only known him for a few months yet adore him - it made you ruminate on the way he must’ve been when he played on his hometown team. Where everyone felt like family, where was no beef with number twenty-three, where he wasn’t the only one who cooked because everyone there had a southern mama. 

He lets go of your face and the rush of cool fall air is no replacement for what his touch inspired.

He sits in front of you and holds your ankles lightly without thinking as he ponders your question, then his dimple pokes and he admits, “Yup. They called me Hometown Hero.”

Of course they did, you would’ve been more surprised if they didn’t.

“I met a lot of them so often that I knew them and their families by name. A lot of them cried when I was traded,” Jaehyun reveals that tidbit, and then his grip on your ankles tightens as he hunches into himself a tiny ball and his words get lost in his smallness, “I cried when I was traded. Felt like I was letting them down. Doesn’t feel the same here, even though everyone is so nice.” His mouth scrunches up as he tries to control the onslaught of his emotion, “Which then makes me feel shitty because I think, should I go home? And that’s not what I want to do.”

You were right this whole time. From the moment Jaehyun told you he left Georgia, you clocked his preternatural cheeriness as a defense mechanism, to cover up his mixed feelings regarding his planned future getting destroyed in one go like that. That must’ve weighed heavy on him, doubly so taking into account the pure depth of how he feels his feelings.

And so, as someone who has been through that exact thing yourself, you feel as if it’s your duty to make things better. 

“This is your fourth or fifth game, right?” You're unable to keep up with the schedule but have a general idea of it, and he nods, softly and happily. “How is that supposed to compare to playing in a place for almost a decade?”

When you first came to Minnesota for your residency, you knew no one and nothing and had to fight tooth and nail to feel comfortable existing here. Jaehyun left a place where he was considered a god - and while he is quickly reaching that status here, he couldn’t have expected it to be the exact same right away. 

He shrugs though, so uninterested in the encouragement that it feels like you’re talking to someone else.

You try a different approach, “When you started in Atlanta, it must have been the same, right? Or did everyone who loved you in college just become Falcons fans?”

At each stage of his life he must’ve had to build his reputation–,

Jaehyun nods, and you remember he went to college in Georgia, so he must’ve had a built in fanbase.

You attempt this logic a second time, “Well, did everyone who loved you in college love you in high school?” He nods again and a faint dusting of pink scatters across his nose. Despite you failing in your attempt to help him out, you’re still amused by his humble shyness. So you reach out, tug his ear and tease, “Ah, you’re such a popular guy, huh?”

The citizens of Macon, Georgia must’ve thrown him parades and put his face up on billboards and took pictures with him on every streetcorner. The way he blushes like a baby puppy tells you he never got used to it. He must be the the same boy he was when he first started playing football... 

Gosh, how did you not start with this?

You grasp his ear within your fingers again to get him to look at you, and you remind him, “Well, remember. At one point, all you had was one fan, so you’ll get back there. Here or wherever it may be.”

At one point, Jaehyun was just a little boy that loved playing football - and whether it be his anonymous dad who encouraged him first, or his fiercely loyal mom who never let his love for it go - and he was able to succeed. He can do that here. He’s so likable and Minnesotans are admittedly so nice that you have no doubt that he’s going to be just as loved here as he was back home. 

“Seems like you already have one.” The way that little girl looked at him? You’re pretty sure Jaehyun made himself a fan for the rest of his life. 

“Who?” he blurts. “You?”

The way his eyes dance a pretty path to land right on yours is strange, loaded with hidden meaning that you’re too anxious to unravel. It feels as if you cease to breathe for a moment. 

“I meant that kid. I don’t even like football,” you remind him.

Jaehyun huffs and looks away from you in his mock frustration at your denial. When you whine to get him to stop doing that, he presses his fingers into your sneakers and tickles you, and you pretend to get even huffier with him. Two can play at that game, you know exactly what’ll break him out of his tantrum.

You lean back in your chair, cross your arms, then haughtily wonder, “So I can’t ask you for an autograph then? I'll need proof one day that I knew you, after all.”

Fifty years from now, no one is going to believe you when you say you were friends with one of the kindest people the world has ever been graced with. You need cold, hard evidence. 

Like you expected, all of Jaehyun’s petty anger melts away, mouth and eyes and cheeks now aglow with delight. “Of course you can ask me for one!”

In his head, you’re already a fan, and he’d never say no to a fan. 

So, you have no choice but to do your best pretending. Sit up straight and make your eyes big and simpering, you tap his shoulder right above the temporary tattoo on his collarbone, just like the girl did when she wanted to talk to him. Then you use the silliest voice, “Mr. JeOnG, mAy I pLeAsE hAvE aN aUtOgRaPh?”

Jaehyun is eating it up, he’s trying hard not to laugh.

To take it as seriously as you are, he puts on his stoic football player face - though comes out looking like he’s constipated instead - and responds, “If you don’t have paper, I'm going to have to sign your scrubs.”

He is just so annoying (fond).

You stick out your knee and make sure he sees your sarcastic eye roll when you grumble, “Fine, I won’t throw these away. They’re clean.”

Jaehyun grasps your knee with no reserve and it startles you, seeing his big hand holding you like it’s absolutely nothing to him. The warmth seeps into your scrub pants as he rifles through his pockets to find the sharpie he’s been signing his autographs with today. You think he’s going to spend some time deciding what he’s going to say, a cheeky joke, or a familiar smiley, or he’ll continue pretending you’re a kid and write a generic stay in school! platitude. 

But no, it comes out in a decisive flourish, punctuated by his teasing squeeze of your knee,

To my #2 fan, my favorite chickpea in the world. XO JJ77 XO

There it is, that XO again.

Saying he likes you is one thing but Jaehyun deliberately writing out XO turns it into a different sentiment entirely.

“Why do you sign everything to me XO?” you wonder. “Do you do it with everyone?”

He’s been writing that charming - yet worrying - two symbol abbreviation over almost every note he’s given you. And despite having an obnoxiously inflated sense of self-importance, you cannot figure out if it’s just a thing he does, or if it’s a thing he does for you. One is acceptable, and the other is….. well, you don’t know what the other is.

Jaehyun blushes this shade of red that you’ve never seen before, and you’ve seen every color of blood in someone’s cheeks possible. The fidget of his fingers around your knee give away the nerves that he’s trying to keep at bay in his face. You are about to get nervous, because if he tells you what he thinks it is–,

“When we draw football plays in practice, players on offense get an O and players on defense get an X,” Jaehyun explains.

Okay?

Phew?

Is this a phew moment? It doesn’t feel like it yet, because that means nothing to you.

When you don’t react, Jaehyun starts drawing on your knee again - under the note he wrote, he brings to life a geometric scheme of arrows and boxes and lines and…. circles and crosses. He points to one of the circles and explains, “I play on offense, O,” before he points over at the cross and says, “and you’re a doctor. The body’s defender. X.”

Well, you’ve certainly never thought of yourself in that way, but yes. You suppose he’s right.

“X and O." Jaehyun pokes your knee in the two spots right before he puts his chin on your knee to look up at you and murmur, “You and me, we make a great team.”

That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Why the hell do you feel yourself giggling in such pure delight? You can't stop staring at his smile dripped in pride, prouder than ever that he came up with that himself. He's the cutest southern chicken egg genius, a genius you couldn’t possibly understand.

“Whyyyyyyy are you laughing at me!” Jaehyun whines, lip stuck out about a foot in his pout. “I made it up, I thought it was fun! And Mark said I didn’t teach you football, so there.”

You’re not laughing at him, you’re laughing because you’re happy.

And also because you’re relieved.

You pat his head like the puppy he is, and then lean down to whisper so that none of the fans walking by can hear, “You know what XO usually stands for?” His dyed hair shakes back and forth under your palm, genuinely having no idea what he was implying by using that signature. You tug a strand of his hair and reveal, “X means kiss, O means hug. That’s why people sign cards XOXO. Kisses and hugs.”

That is why you were so scared every time Jaehyun would sign something to you XO. Because that would make his feelings really... real.

“Oh.” The saccharine syllable gets stuck to his lips as he gets all shy, he processes the implications before - to your horror - he gets worried, “I didn’t mean it like that. Should I stop? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Before you answer with an outright yes, you have to stop and search your honest feelings to make sure your answer is true. Does it really?

“No,” you whisper. 

It’s just tough for you to come to terms with how genuine this expression of his affection is. Even though his intended meaning wasn’t kisses and hugs, calling you a good team… it means something to him.

Your denial has Jaehyun frozen and funny in front of you, peachy lips caught in an orbit of surprise at he stares. And, well. You can’t help but picture Jaehyun in his apartment, thinking about any and all ways he could write his secret appreciation for you into a note that you wouldn’t think much of. His face scrunched in worry, his fingers nervous while holding onto the pen, and you can’t help but stare back.

He has a little bit of purple hair dye on his cheek. You want to wipe it off. 

Jaehyun clears his throat when your eyes linger on his dimple, and completely changes the subject, “Should we go serve dessert? I made Mama’s peach pie and it’s gonna go fast. I'll need help.”

He is being sly to get you out of this solitary corner and back into his personal space, where he can hang out with you as much as he wants without abandoning his duties. And even though you need to say no, you  just can’t to that face, primed and saucy with his sweet pleading.

“Sure,” you cave. “Don’t tell Mark on me.”

Jaehyun, like, yells in victory. Which defeats the purpose of your warning.

You head back to the serving table with him, beer can in hand just in case you need the relief. But when you get there, instead of standing right by his side like you were before, you end up in front of him. You try to get out of the way, but he steps behind you and blocks your path of escape.

So you ignore him, pick up a spoon to serve the pie (which looks delectable! you need to steal a piece for yourself!) and.... his chest presses into your back. He cuddles in close so he can also reach the dessert to serve and you don’t tell him to stop, because…. because you don’t want him to. You’re standing back to front, he has a spoon in one hand and you have a spoon in the other, and you feel so warm and protected against the Minnesota fall as you serve the happy people their pie. You don’t feel sad when the families come by with their happy children, and Jaehyun does not look as anxious to please everyone as he did before. 

Midway through serving the second platter of pie - he made two pies, this man is something else - Jaehyun rests his chin on top of your head, the weight both crushing and comforting at the same time. You rise on your tiptoes to knock your skull into his chin lightly, and when you have a break in the line, you turn and whine at him, “Hey, what are you doing!”

You don’t want a reminder that you’re tiny!

...Even though you kind of like it. 

“Oh. Ohh ohhhhh ohhhhhhhhhhh,” Jaehyun’s baritone comes out in a melody that sounds like he’s trying to sing opera and gargle mouthwash at the same time. 

And then…. his hand comes to grip your waist and navigate you tenderly to his side, so he has a free avenue to lean in and kiss your cheek. His mouth is supple and soft, bringing an ameliorating goodness to the spot right where he bruised you. The cadence of your heartbeat rippling into that arrhythmia straight up destroys your eardrums.

But you do manage to hear, loud and clear, when Jaehyun murmurs right against the mouth-print tattoo he left on your bruise, “And X. Did I get it right?” 

O and X. A hug…. And a kiss.

You have no idea. 

You have no idea how to answer, and no idea what’s happening. But you definitely don't stop Jaehyun from doing it again.

You let him kiss you on the other cheek for a second time, and then he switches back to your bruised one for a third, and then back again for a fourth. You draw the arbitrary line at a fifth - you actually use the whispered excuse 'they're even now' - before you have to pull yourself away from him. He's got his eyes closed as he waits there, purple-stained cheek slightly turned your way in anticipation of a kiss of his own, and you just... you don't have the courage to.

You softly press your thumb into his dimple instead, and leave to head back to the hospital before you have the chance to register his sure disappointment.

Or... your disappointment in yourself.

tbc.

Chapter Text

On your way to a department meeting between surgeries, you pass by a familiar room on the surgical floor and wave to greet Sungchan. You had no idea he was in for a check up, but Jaemin, Jeno, and Ningning are dutifully at his side like you asked them to be.

Down the hallway, you spot Minho in his suit after a day at the public health clinic, standing by a computer but not paying attention to it. He instead watches that entire interaction for himself, then there's no mistaking his muted distaste at your continuing involvement in his case. But it is only because of your truce that he doesn't say anything or bring it up.

He gives you the curtest head nod possible and wastes no time going into Sungchan's room to assert himself as the lead doctor on the case. You don't know how to get him to trust the promise you made to never step on his toes, yet it's not your responsibility to enforce that. You know you're going to keep your word, you just wish he knew, too.

Your phone dings with the specific reminder that you got a new email and NOT a page. You stop in your tracks to read when you see Chief Kwon’s email at the top of the header - notable that it’s her, and not her usual secretary emailing you on her behalf.

[from: [email protected]] Need you to do arm to belly graft lecture fr congress. Crowd pleaser.

It feels too early to be preparing for your trip to DC when you haven't even had lunch yet. However, when you flip back to check the calendar, you realize that not only is it in two and a half weeks, you've done zero preparation with how busy you are. You haven't thought about the race for Surgeon General in so long. Which means she's right and you've got to pull out the big guns - you've been giving the lecture on one of your best surgeries for almost four years now, since before you were even an attending. It gets a stupendous reaction every time.

[from: [email protected]] Hopefully that strange bruise on your face heals by then

You freeze and take an awkward look around the hallway to make sure no one has spotted you or the football-shaped bruise you have on your cheek. You have no idea when Chief Kwon was able to spot it, but she did stare at you for a few seconds too long after you scrubbed into a surgery together. Sigh. Yes, you hope it will, too, otherwise you're going to have to learn how to put makeup on before then.

And maybe the feel of Jaehyun’s mouth there will have mercifully faded away by then, too.

—

Yuta was downright surprised to see you when you walked in the building after surgery, flashing him the calmer three fingers of an easy day at the hospital. You can’t remember the last instance you spent this much of your open schedule actually in your house.

You can’t lie, sleeping in your bed is a thousand times better than in the on-call room.

And right on cue - as if he expected you to be coming home instead of staying at the hospital - Jaehyun pokes his head out of his apartment as soon as he hears the elevator and calls out, “Heeyyyyyyy, chickpea!” 

You don’t know how to look him in the eye anymore after what happened at the team barbecue. Every time you cross in front of his door you feel the shadow of his kisses on your cheeks come to life. He was traveling with the team for a bit and it took every inch of you not to eavesdrop when the nurses were watching the game on their breaks. It felt like a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed. Which was funny, considering, well, the rest of it. 

He hikes a thumb over his shoulder and beckons, “No delivery today, I have something special.”

You slip under his arm to go into his house and immediately you notice how good it smells, spicy and thick with pointed flavor. And just as soon as you’re going ask what it is, you screech to a halt while taking off your shoes when you see.... his mother and his third oldest sister Soojung standing over the oven stirring pots together. You don’t pull any of this off quietly - as soon as they hear, they turn to see you and you’re forced to wave not to be impolite.

But, strangely enough, their symmetrical smiles blossom at the same time when they realize it’s you - the only reason you would characterize it as strange is because it feels so different from the last time you saw them. Not that they didn’t like you last time, but you were a stranger to them. Now, being here in the same home together, this has such a comforted atmosphere that you don’t feel compelled to flee the first chance you get. 

“Played in Carolina, scooped up who was able to stop by and brought them home because I was getting lonely!” Jaehyun explains, rushing over to kiss his mom on the cheek and to tease his sister’s hair up like he must’ve as a child.

He’s so funny, this thirty year old man getting lonely. 

But you get it. 

Ms. Jeong scoops something red and wriggling out of the pot and announces to you, “We’re doing a crawfish boil! A taste of our home, just for you.” 

You’ve never had anyone do this for you before - A) cook something this extravagant, B) be this nice to you in general - and quite frankly, you have no idea how to behave.

You don’t even get the full Is there anything I can do? out before Ms. Jeong is fussing at you to sit down with a glass of white wine because ‘you work too hard.’ As soon as that phrase comes from his mother, Jaehyun avoids your attempt at catching his gaze. You wonder if he fed them lines about your recent exhaustive schedule just so they’d baby you.

“How have you been, though, honey?” Ms. Jeong asks as a followup, making you even more suspicious. You shrug and nod in a semi-positive response before she prods again, “And the answer you would give someone you’re close to, because I want us to be close?”

Why can you hear Jaehyun’s baritone coming out of her mouth instead? 

“I don’t have time to think about how I've been, I’ve been so busy,” you laugh, the honest truth, the only truth. “Just okay, I guess. Your son keeps me in a good mood.”

Jaehyun has his head bent over the sink so that he can peel the cooked shrimp for Soojung, but you can still see the way the tips of his ears blush. That is the additional truth, you cannot deny that the general consistency of your demeanor has changed since he moved in. Though from the disbelieving look on Soojung’s face, she thinks you’re making it up to score some points with the family. 

You hope his mother will believe you, and she does - shaking a whisk at you and humming, “He does that, that’s why we want him home.”

A shrimp shell shatters between Jaehyun’s hands, in a cracking blow that mirrors the specific cracks in his heart they haven’t ever taken responsibility for.

“Well…..” You get awkward and fumbly trying to search for an answer that will defend Jaehyun and not insult his mother at the same time. None of it is working in your head, so you just blurt, “You can’t steal him from me just yet,” and cringe deeply when the two women look at you in surprise.

Jaehyun’s face lights up from chin to hairline with cute, pink shock. 

Okay, you shouldn’t have taken it that far.... but you’re also pretty sure more Minneapolis citizens survive because of him by proxy (if you’re in a good mood you’re better at your job or something along those lines). You’ll have to gather the statistics and write the paper on that one before you use it in an argument, though.

Before his mother can bring it up again, you get a bunch of pages on your work phone that are all from Minho if the previews are accurate. You know they're not work related and hence, don’t want to open them - not when the top one has a shocking little blurb, Are you coming back to the hospital? I want to fuck you and I'm too tired.... Whatever. You don't care about the rest of that message, you've lost complete interest in anything to do with him tonight.

He’s so gross and annoying sometimes. Does his mind run on a diet of an incessant need for sex and an undying need to bother you for it? For a grown man, that is just unbecoming, you don’t understand why he can’t leave you alone when you give off that anti-social energy all the time. 

You must’ve mumbled that last part to yourself because Soojung cuts in, “Colleague giving you shit? Probably a man?”

Her eyebrow raises with a hint of disgust, and you know you’ve just been given an avenue to complain that even Jaehyun can’t provide. 

“I don’t understand why men never seem to shut the fuck up,” you grumble without holding back, and when you hear Ms. Jeong’s slight inhale of shock, apologize right away, “Sorry, ma’am." Then you nudge Jaehyun - who hasn’t taken offense to what you said - in the side and tease, “He’s the exception.”

Because he is. Not once have you wanted to tell Jaehyun to shut up... ...even though he really annoyed you when you first met. 

You decide to open up like his mother requested, and give them some details you would’ve held close to your chest otherwise, “We’re in a competition for this thing and I think my colleague is paranoid that I'm working in secret to get back at him. It’s fucked up.”

Not even ‘you think,’ you know Minho is paranoid. That’s why he’s been spending so many hours at the public health clinic because he knows he can’t beat you in scheduling surgeries. 

Jaehyun reaches over to tug at his sister’s ponytail and wonders, “Yo, didn’t that happen to you, Sooj?”

“My firm is going to dissolve in the next half-year because both partners are retiring." Soojung shares an eye roll of solidarity with her mother and her sibling over this, which means it’s something she’s been complaining about. “I was fighting for a promotion-recommendation and this other lawyer kept trying to steal my cases. So I spent a week making up an entire docket of fake cases and put them in my office to confuse him.”

Ha. Now that is genius. 

“Obviously you won, right?” You're pretty confident that the way Soojung is with you is the way she is with everyone else, no exceptions.

“Obbbbbbbviously. Still trying to find a new firm but I get the priority recommendation to wherever I want, ” Soojung drawls, dapping Jaehyun up in a practiced fist bump. Then he  and Ms. Jeong smile with such pride at her that your chest twinges with an ache of longing. It is a novel experience, watching a nuclear family supporting each other in this way - this sort of exchange does not feel out of place for them at all. 

“I'm the head of my department so I put myself on all of this guy’s cases to annoy him. It’s great,” you laugh along. You're happy to have someone understand your plight.

Soojung cackles, picturing you doing something so evil despite your stature. Then she rolls her eyes and suddenly laments, “Ugh, they always hate it and think we’re overstepping, when–,” 

“When in reality it’s just what they do every day!” You know exactly how to finish her sentence and all of a sudden, you’re high-fiving Jaehyun’s sister in the middle of his kitchen and she’s wrapping her arms around you to crush you in a bear hug of solidarity. 

“Okay, Mama, can we bring her home?” Soojung begs her mother, shaking you about back in forth like you’re a prize she won at a claw machine. “You always said you wanted a seventh daughter, one for every day of the week!”

You wouldn’t mind being friends. You and Soojung do see eye to eye and you respect her a lot - being a lawyer in DC sounds a million times worse than your job, talk about schmoozing and paperwork and not enough action. Anyone who could be great at that without losing their mind every single day is a person that you admire. 

At her daughter’s request, Ms. Jeong looks you dead in the eye and wonders, “Can you milk a cow?”

You somehow manage to catch your bursting laugh in your throat before it appears.

“Close your ears, Jae,” you order, knowing your answer is something he will not like to hear. He obediently turns to face the wall, then stuffs his palms over his ears so he’s blocked from hearing you admit, “I’ve had to milk people before?”

Don’t ask. 

And from the gross looks on their faces, Ms. Jeong and Soojung do not intend to.

“I don’t know, I'm not afraid of anything,” you admit.

Once you’ve seen a person sawed in half, you’ve seen it all, and you doubt farm animals are going to be the thing that breaks through your fear. They’re cute and fluffy and tiny, just like Jaehyun is.  Ms. Jeong doesn’t bother to hide her surprise at a city slicker from Brooklyn being open to that possibility, but you really don’t care about her opinions anymore. Jaehyun is fine with who you are and you’re not going to let yourself fall into this trap of self-doubt. 

Moreover, she seems satisfied enough with your answer to let it go, “Should we eat? The critters are ready!”

Your stomach growls in anticipation and you’re about to run over to the dining table and sit as close as you possibly can to the pot of seafood... then you notice Jaehyun still standing there with his hand over his ears. You don’t know why that image charms you to this depth, but you find yourself reversing course to go over and tickle his waist. His hands move out of instinct to hold yours as you tease, “Hey, silly, what are you doing?”

Jaehyun pokes at your ear before letting his hand drape over your shoulder so he can whisper to you, “You said close my ears.”

That… you weren’t…. Ah, he’s just… you have no words for how good he is. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling like you’re in your own little world with him for a still second, and then you beckon, “Come on, let’s eat.” 

You end up sitting as far away from the pot as possible because that’s where Jaehyun sits. He doesn’t let you an inch away from him, sitting your chairs close, making sure his knee purposefully brushes yours under the table. Still, the crawfish boil is seriously one of the best things you’ve ever had, loaded with flavor and dripping in tenderness. But it takes you forever to crack open each little shell, and the three of them are so good with getting the meat out that you cannot bring yourself to ask for help. You're going to seem dumb and you hate that. 

After letting everyone eat first, Ms. Jeong is satisfied enough to move on from nibbling. She cracks open a big cob of corn, and then starts the conversation up again, “So what exactly are you and your…. bothersome colleague competing over?”

“I have to give a presentation to members of Congress, along with a short list of other doctors in the running for Surgeon General. That person is out of town on a case then, so of course he’s worried that he didn’t get the invite.” You’re trying to treat it as just another lecture you have to give, even though it could quite literally determine the rest of your future. 

“What’s the case about?” Soojung asks through a mouthful of potato. 

“You don’t want to know." They really, really, really don't. 

“Sure we do,” she retorts. 

And you hesitate despite Jaehyun’s little nudge to go ahead and tell them the 'hippo'-approved details. You don’t know if this is appropriate for the dinner table, they don’t have any idea the kind of gross things you’ve seen. You once ran a trauma service that involved a patient and cannibalism, soooooo..........

“Okay, um.” One last moment of hesitation for them to change their minds and take it back, and nothing. So you just say it, “A woman got her arm torn off in an accident and Minnesota PD found the arm, but she wasn’t ready for reattachment. So I sewed the arm into her belly to keep it alive, and a some time later, her arm was healed enough for me to pop it back on.”

It was the most grotesque thing you’ve ever done, and the patient woke up screaming when she saw. Yet it worked like a sling and an incubator built into one, and now she sends you regular updates of her lifting her son onto playground swings with that arm, with only the tiniest noticeable scar on her belly–,  

They look horrified. Ms. Jeong pushes her plate away and a shrimp literally falls out of Soojung’s mouth when she gasps, but Jaehyun? Nope, he continues chowing down through his massive stack of food, pausing for a second only to exclaim Cool! under his breath.

Nothing will faze him, huh. 

“Sorry!” you apologize, despite giving them fair warning. “Anyways, it’s been used as a technique for soldiers in combat who have lost limbs, first responders, accident victims, et cetera. My article on it was published in the NEJM,” you use the acronym and then when they all look confused, you clarify for the non-doctors, “the New England Journal of Medicine. It’s the top journal in our field.”

You already have about fifty credits in the journal - articles that are being read at hospitals not only across the country, but across the globe. Yet this feels like one of the most important successes of your career, considering how many lives - not just the actual entity of one, but the quality of it - have been saved since you put the technique out for public consumption. 

“Wowieeeeeee!” Jaehyun warbles through a mouthful of food, leaning over and hitting your shoulder a dozen different times with his to express his pride. 

Somehow the champagne toast you had after your submission pales in comparison. 

With entrenching warmth painted over the features she shares with him, Ms. Jeong puts down her fork and wipes her mouth before quietly requesting, “Please get me a copy, I would like to have it. That’s what I do for all my kids.”

“Like my law school acceptance and my certificate for passing the bar!” Soojung takes out her phone and shows you a picture of a brick wall at their house back in Georgia, littered with frames and drawings and pictures. Her law school acceptance like she said, the lease their two oldest sisters signed to open their salon, a picture of Yerim with the prime minister of the UK, Jimin’s first modeling print blown up and huge, a transcript of Minjeong’s grades at Harvard, it’s all there.

Jaehyun snatches the phone so he can zoom in on a prim little corner hidden behind his sisters’ extravaganza of accomplishment, and he shyly shows off, “My first NFL contract!”

You’re moved. 

You’re seriously moved at this unwavering display of family and a stab of emerald sharpness presses right into your emotional cortex - perception is telling you it’s jealousy, but you’re unsure - until you remember that Ms. Jeong asked for your paper to display as well. You still have a box of extra copies somewhere in your storage, you could get it for her tonight. 

“Part of me feels like I need to move to Minnesota now, just in case I get into an accident,” Soojung jokes. 

“Better yet, y/n should just move to Macon with us.” His mother joins in the joking but she hits a bit of a sore nerve. Because without looking, you can feel Jaehyun stiffen beside you with how much he does not want that to happen. You give her a bit of an awkward smile that doesn't confirm or deny your feelings, then she folds her hands and puts her chin in them to amend, “Well, either way, whenever you need a slice of pie and a snuggle that isn’t from a cadaver, Macon is only a short plane ride away. Because of our egg salad boy, we have all the airline times memorized.”

If you’d had this conversation with her a month ago, you’d think that Ms. Jeong was an utterly crazy helicopter mother for saying that. But after coming to understand Jaehyun and his family and the way that they are… you realize she’s not being smothering. She’s just offering up an opportunity to visit that she knows you won’t ask for, in a manner far more aligned with the way that you operate emotionally. 

“Of course,” you murmur, holding that acceptance close to your heart.  “Thank you for the food.”

She cooked for you! Cooked! That is so special.

For the rest of the night, you sit and listen to the stories from Ms. Jeong about what Buttered Biscuit the pig has gotten up to on the farm, and the grumblings from Soojung about how Joshua - also a pig, but the human kind - has been making a disaster of things in DC and…. you struggle to eat your crawfish. But it’s fine because what you can eat is so good it makes you want to cry.

And at one point you look at Jaehyun and he’s just smiling happily and nodding along to the conversation. You forgot he was there, he was silent and unmoving next to you when that is usually not the case. You nudge him and whisper in his ear, “Not much to say tonight? You’ve been quiet, country boy.”

“Just soaking it in, nothing better than family,” he sighs, pressing the pad of his thumb against the apple of your cheek in a teasing note of acknowledgement.

For once you don’t feel a deep, personal aversion to that word being brought up. It feels appropriate–,

Jaehyun glances down as he moves to tickle you again, then gasps in consuming horror at your plate, “You haven’t eaten anything!”

You really didn’t think it was that bad until you give your plate a second glance alongside him. While you’ve eaten a fair number of shrimp, you still have about ten uncracked crawfish left - sitting beside the two measly, neat shells you managed to pry off with some extreme physical exertion. 

“I don’t know how to crack them,” you admit, trying to be as quiet as possible so his mother and sister don’t judge you.

“Here, let me show you.” Jaehyun puts his arm all the way around you so you’re tucked into his side, and together, you hold a crawfish - him with his right hand and you with your left. He shows you exactly how to crack open the head from the shell, pull out the meat in one go, and it’s so much easier than whatever the hell you were doing. 

“You don’t have to pry them apart to put them back together, doctor,” he teases, low and smooth and so, so flirty. “They’re already cooked.”

You suppose, well….. You did that out of instinct, okay! You’re not used to tearing things to pieces without knowing how to fix them. 

Speaking of little animals, you wonder, “You’ll eat these but won’t have a McGriddle with me?” His plate is just covered in cracked shells, and he was not delicate at all in crushing those things up. He really went for it. 

“We don’t have shrimp on the farm!” Jaehyun whines, and you can hear his socks stamping on the wood floor as his pouting gets worse. “Buttered Biscuit would hate me! I already have to call her and apologize each time I get you one of those things.”

He is so silly. 

You laugh out loud at the thought of him apologizing to his beloved pig daughter for getting you a breakfast sandwich with sausage every morning. When you start losing contorl, Jaehyun can’t hold his laughter in, even though he has no idea what you’re laughing about, and that makes you laugh even harder. You end up with your face buried in his shoulder as you hold each other and belligerently giggle until your stomachs both hurt.

But they don't hurt enough to stop you from devouring the rest of the crawfish, or from going back for seconds on the peach pie.

—

Not long after dessert, you're o go back to your apartment to answer a laundry list of emails that have built up in the… hour you were eating dinner. Sigh. But when you’re halfway into the hallway, you’re surprised to see Soojung following you out as well.

The right thing to do before she leaves is to thank her for being so nice since her warming up to you put the whole evening in a good mood. You don’t get a word in edgewise though, before she corners you by your front door and says lowly, “We need to talk, alone.”

Your stomach churns with the infinite possibilities that could await. You barely know this woman and she wants to have a serious conversation with you?

You knew you should’ve admitted to not being able to eat the crawfish. 

You peek into the open door of Jaehyun’s apartment to make sure he’s busy - and he sure is, letting his mother put a face mask on him with his eyes closed, ha - and then you go into your house and gesture for her to stand inside the foyer with you. You leave the door slightly open as well so nothing looks too suspicious. Then, with no way of knowing how Soojung is going to interpret your nervous little smile, you stand there in petrified silence and wait for her to break it.

And break it she does, “I'm going to cut to the chase because I like you and respect you more than I want to admit. My brother likes you.”

The churning in your stomach gets an infinity times’ worse, the kind of churning you would warn a patient about. 

“I know that, he told me,” you confess to her, not wanting to hide this. 

Soojung shakes her head and corrects you in a firm, unwavering, sisterly tone, “No, not like you like you or have a crush on you or whatever you think you know.”

Then what on earth is she talking about? It’s not like you can take back or undo what Jaehyun said to you, but you’d assumed that (despite the evidence!) feelings had simmered down on his end to a functional capacity. Hearing about them in the present day, and from someone else, is…. a bit frightening. 

“He has feelings for you in a way I haven’t seen before. Or didn’t know he was capable of, to be honest.”

You have to catch yourself on the kitchen barstool when the vertigo hits you in an onslaught of dark realization.

He what?

You? 

Soojung is still talking and you force yourself to listen again because it seems imperative not to miss a word. Her voice is stewed deep in concern, and barely any of it passes through to the processing center of your brain, just destroyed by her revelation, “He’s the egg salad in our sandwich, my Irish twin, the closest of all of my siblings. I would know.”

“H-how?” you stutter out, having lost all capacity for rational thought or word-processing.

How is it possible that Jaehyun has these deep, intimate feelings for you when you’ve done nothing to encourage that. You’ve never made yourself anything but clear that you see him as your friend and neighbor, how, how, how. You didn’t exactly develop deep feelings for Minho after only being his buddy for a year. You and Jaehyun have hugged twice, at maximum!

“He…. he did something for you…..” She stops and starts, clear she wants to tell you and have the facts out in the open. Yet there’s one thing that finally arrests her in place to keep the story from spilling out, “That’s something he needs to tell you for himself.” As a sister, she’s allowing Jaehyun to tell you his truth on his own, she’s just serving up a note of pre-warning so you aren’t caught off guard. “But he looks out for you in a way I don’t think you realize. Yet… I’m not sure if it’s the kind of thing you would appreciate." 

That statement is so cryptic, Soojung could be talking about literally anything. This is not helping, your stomach feels like it’s been detached from the rest of your viscera and thrown into the abyss. 

Through the hallway, she glances into her brother’s apartment and is nearly moved to tears at the sight of him and their mom cuddled on the couch in matching facemasks. She sighs with the weight of familial responsibility, “I…. I don’t know what he wants in his life anymore. I have never been a subscriber to the notion that he has to return home like my sisters and mom are expecting. I’ve never thought he had to end up with one girl just because he was with her forever, either.” 

You can see where their closeness stems from, plainly braided into the roots of their sibling connection. The two of them could not be the most opposite of all of Jeong siblings, but that must be how Soojung has the perspective to understand that the expectations people have for Jaehyun do not align with what he wants for himself. 

There’s honesty pared into her brown eyes that match his perfectly, and that same honesty gives life to her words, “I have no idea what you want. I thought career for sure, and or ending up with a super successful counterpart in the same field.”

She’s right. A blisteringly successful career was the first priority, then you got older and figured it might be nice to have a companion to stand by your side for all of it. That has been what you’ve wanted for so long you don’t think you’re capable of having any other dream.

But there’s a footnote coming to her comment, an important amendment you can’t just ignore. She runs a hand through her hair in a deep note of anxiety, and admits, “You two are so different that when he told me, I was extremely skeptical at first. But I can’t lie. Watching you two tonight… I felt it.”

What did she feel? 

What did she feel?!

You’re sooooooooooooo - yes, with that many o’s, it’s critical - confused as to what everyone’s seeing in your friendship that you don’t. Do you like Jaehyun? Do you not? You thought it would be obvious to you if your relationship changed in one way or the other, but right now it just feels like you’re wading through boggy, sunken-in waters. 

“But I'm begging you.” Soojung hazards a risk and reaches to grab your hand, to hold it between hers so you can feel her desperation as she lays her request down for you, “If my brother is not what you want, please let him down before this goes any further. His life changed so hard so fast this year and I don’t need anything else to happen to him.”

You know that, he… he told you. Jaehyun told you this incredibly personal detail about his life within days of meeting you, and you don’t think that is because he shares that with everyone. He shared that with you because he felt like he could trust you from the start… because he… he… He liked you from the start. 

“And if he is what you want, I'm begging you to realize it." This is her appeal to the side of you that she got along so well with at dinner, “Because he is so good he deserves everything good in the world in return.”

You do not have an argument against that one, unfortunately.

Though shouldn’t Soojung know, that since Jaehyun deserves everything good in the world, as a fact, that should not include you within its definition? You are, by your own design, too flawed and hardened to ever match up with someone as good as him.

“And while you might be the smartest person I’ve ever met in my life, you’d be dumb to think that he’s just some hick loser football player that everyone sees.” Soojung finishes and lets out this epic exhale, exhausted from defending the person she loves most against a future worry that you don’t think has ever crossed his mind.

Shit. You’re in trouble. 

Because it’s been a long time since you thought of Jaehyun as a hick loser football player.

There’s no tearful acceptance on your end, there’s no posturing on hers, you don’t even hug. Soojung just squeezes your hand once more in gratitude for listening, and then leaves you alone to head back to her family. More like l eaves you alone so you can uncork the nearest bottle of wine and sit there on the couch - right under his Girlboss sign, oh no - and start existentially existing. 

Jaehyun more than likes you? And reading between the lines, Soojung assumes you return some, or all, of that feeling as well? 

How is it possible you’ve been through so many years of education on the human body and can’t pinpoint the identity of this emotion running through you. Do you seriously like Jaehyun back? At a depth that comes close to the seemingly bottomless well of affection he’s swimming in for you? You shouldn’t, and you should know better than to think you might be. As the utmost purveyor of realism, you are aware that the two of you would never work.

But digging deep into the trenches of who you both are, neither of the scenarios that brought you here to one another are realistic. Not at all. In fact, this kind of feels like a dream you used to have as a child living alone at Yale, that one day you’d be brought to someone who… who'd care for you.

Back then, you thought it was a parent. 

And now?  

—

Not even an hour later, Jaehyun barges into the apartment with a bottle of white wine and a third slice of pie from his mom, which you know is just for you.

He has your spare key, remembers your favorite type of wine, bends your late night snack cravings, and it’s just…. This is a lot. He makes himself comfortable on the couch as well, and you have to look away from his hair flopping across your lone throw pillow and ignore the fact he took off his shirt in between family dinner and coming over.

And you want to cover your ears like he did, when his quiet, concerned question meanders out, “How are you feeling after all of that? I know my family can be a lot.”

It was a lot. It was a lot to feel cherished by a mother and to bond with another female your age who’s gone through the same successes and struggles. It was about to be overwhelming until he made it not as much, and because of that, now you’re overwhelmed. 

“Dinner was nice… it felt nice after everything,” you admit, to yourself more than to him. 

Jaehyun sits up from lounging right away and gets all worried, “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

You think about not telling him - since being emotional and open with your thoughts will make this whole situation way, way worse.

But you can’t help it, not after the two of you traded the most emotional barbs and took the brunt of the pain for each other, “Weird couple of weeks. The dad and his daughter at the hospital, the mom and her daughter at your barbecue, it was a lot of parental imagery for someone who doesn’t  like to seek it out.” You let out a sheepish laugh, then wait for the burn of emptiness to come. And instead, you're buoyed by the softness of his gaze as he waits for you to finish, “It was nice to not…. not be made anxious by that.”

It was the first time that you felt like you could be a part of something that wasn’t just you and your successes. You could share a meal with people that weren’t your colleagues and be genuine in your interest about their lives, and not have to worry that every little thing you did was going to get dissected and criticized–, 

“YESSSS!” 

Your ocean of melancholy dries up when Jaehyun whoops in success and gives the biggest fistpump you worry is going to tear his arm out of his socket. When he flashes the biggest, prettiest version of his dimpled smile you’ve ever seen, y ou become majorly bewildered as to why he’s reacting like this. You were just trying to be vulnerable for once.

“I didn’t say anything because I could obviously tell you were bothered by it,” Jaehyun is talking a mile a minute now and the faster he talks the faster your nerves start to fizzle, “And I respected you saying you didn’t want to talk about it or reach out to your family. But I wanted to see mine and I knew that my mom would take care of you and that you and Soojung would get along. That's, like, two stones and one bird are hanging out in their bush!”

That was so many words. Your head hurts.

And the rest of it feels like it makes your heart hurt, even though you don’t quite understand what he’s talking about.

So you start with the easiest thing, using the remaining rational parts of your brain to correct his metaphor usage, “It’s kill two birds with one stone. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush means something else.” Then, the part of your brain that was ripped out and replaced with saccharine triteness prods you into wondering, “But really?”

Jaehyun thought you - you! - would get along with his mom and his sister? Ha.

“All six of my sisters and my mama are like epic girlbosses. You’re a girlboss, too!” You hate that word with a passion but why does it sound funny when he says it like that? He laughs to himself to the point that his dimples look like moons in his cheeks and continues on, “Why do you think I was never afraid of you like Mark? This is just my regular life, I'm used to it.” 

This is delving into your dream and picking it apart with a hand dipped in longing. Yes, you wouldn’t mind having a successful person stand by your side, but you're realizing now that person doesn't necessarily have to be in your field. As long as they didn’t mind what you did, and were impressed and understanding enough to leave you to flourish on your own.

You don’t know if you want that in general or if you want him to be that someone in your life with you. After all, he’s a literal caricature of a sweet hometown football player in a romance movie, designed perfectly for… for… 

“What did you say you did?” you whisper, hoping his answer will give you some clarity as to how to finish that sentence. 

He could not have been designed for you, that is a ridiculous statement to make. 

Jaehyun sits up from the couch and reaches to press his hand into the fading bruise on your cheek. You don’t have the fortitude, mental or physical, to pull away. Fully ensnared within his grasp, you watch his dimples twitch in nerves and his warm eyes flood even further, and then he murmurs, “I brought my family here for you. I knew you needed it and wanted you to have a nice time after the weird past couple weeks–,”

Soojung was right when she said she wasn’t sure if you'd appreciate what Jaehyun did for you. Because that is insane and oversteps the boundaries of your relationship in about ten million different ways.

But it is also exactly what you needed.

“Please stop,” you beg in the middle of his admission, before he can go on, before he can tack on another explanatory disclaimer at the end of it and ruin this. The smile fades from his face so fast and he lets go of you when you gasp, “I know you like me, and I'm begging you to please stop.”

His sister's words are buzzing in your head and your heart is reminding you that it would never work out the way that you want–, no. In the way that he wants.

Because Jaehyun wants to be with a nice girl just like him, whether or not he realizes it. And you are… not that. 

“I don’t know how to,” he admits, burying his chin into his shoulder as he gets three doses of shy and worried and just the littlest bit heartbroken. “I mean I know, I'm a grown person, I know. But… but… but… You’re confusing me.”

You’re confusing him?!

He’s confusing you!

The hugging and the kissing and the asking you out on dates and the making you feel things?! What the hell is that!

You drop your head in unrefined shame and apologize anyways, “I don’t mean to. Sorry.” You can’t imagine how stressful this must’ve been for him - waiting around and trying to pick through your clues while you were saying one thing, and, admittedly, letting him do another. 

Jaehyun hugs his knees into his chest so he’s curled up in the tiniest ball of protective comfort. Then, when he's somewhere your words won't hurt him as much, he looks you with such lovesickness in his eyes, and whispers, “Will you give me a chance?”

You think your heart gives out, no arrhythmias, no murmurs, just a straight up flatline for one or two incapacitating seconds in which you’re seriously not okay. You didn’t think Jaehyun was going to be outright and ask you, but…. but… but he already has been outright. He’s been outright and forthcoming with you from the second he asked you on that date.

You said no then.

And now?

“I don’t know,” you whisper, twinged with the fear of the unknown and the possibility of hurting him, “I don’t know if I can give you what you want. And definitely not in the way you deserve.”

Jaehyun needs more than just a nice girl like him. He needs his unending support returned, a particular unchanging adoration while his life is in so many moving parts. Not to mention unconditional love and the genuine willingness to be a partner that doesn’t split things fifty-fifty with him, but always gives one hundred-one hundred. You don’t have experience doing that with anyone. You don’t have an example to look to.

His sadness dissipates when he realizes you haven't given him an outright rejection, just an expression of your deep-rooted fears coming to a head at the same time. He gives you the smallest yet most encouraging smile ever, and tells you, plain and simple, “All I'm asking for is for you to give me a chance. I know you’re kind of with someone and I have my own shit going on, but I just want a chance. A real one.” 

Is there anything wrong with entertaining this request? Truly?

It’s not like Jaehyun is asking you to run away with him and get married. He just wants to see if the splintering bonds of your friendship can be broken down and restrung into a tethered braid that’s been lying in wait for this opportunity. 

“Can you please think about it and let me know?” he requests, respectful and not pushy. “And not let this drag on forever?”

He didn’t need his sister to stand up for him. He’s good with your decision either way and he’s strong enough in his convictions to just ask instead of waffling through this back and forth.

He’s more than even his closest sibling thinks of him. 

And then Jaehyun, he… he pulls out the trump card. He gets back into the softie mode that always gets you, and somehow gets softer than ever - he's cuddly and tender as he taps your knee and suggests in shy offering, “You have your conference coming up and I don’t want to stress you out. How about we make a deal? You think and you let me know after?” The thrill of hidden worry spirals into him, and he nervously forces it out, “Unless you already know.”

He is so kind to you in a way that you don’t deserve that you start to feel overwhelmed again. Your breathing is the first to go as you contemplate a horrible scenario where you sit here in three weeks and break Jaehyun’s heart clean in two by saying no. And to your horror, that’s what comes out when you accidentally take a gasping inhale, “No, no–,” 

“No?” Jaehyun whispers, bringing that exact scenario to life when his features twitch, then just drown themselves in the piquant outline of heartbreak. 

“Not no….” You screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to see him, willing your brain to come back in one piece so you can figure out what you were trying to do, “No… not no, but… no, I mean… Ah! Stop confusing me!”

You basically scream it at him and then bury your face in your hands, willing yourself to breathe in longer than you breathe out, the natural treatment for panicked symptoms like that. After a minute or two of wallowing, you feel tender warmth start to build at your ankles, when Jaehyun - oh, sweet Jaehyun, what are you going to do with him - holds you there in a reminder of his supportive presence in the middle of your breakdown. 

“I… I need to think,” you whisper to the darkness. “After the conference sounds good.”

When your eyelashes peel apart through a thick slog of reluctance, there’s no beam or screech of victory or epic pose that awaits you. Jaehyun has his head leaned against the couch as he holds your ankle, hair swept right by the heart next to girlboss, and his closed mouth upturns into the sweetest, scrunchiest little smile. He squeezes your leg with as much affection as he can muster, and then he murmurs, “You take your time, chickpea.”

He thought you were rejecting him and still tried to comfort you. You can’t not consider him, even if the idea of you and Jaehyun as a couple doesn’t make a lick of sense to you.

You have no idea how you’re going to decide.

—

You know, you know, heading to the hospital the next night and immediately falling into bed with Minho isn’t the greatest look.

But he asked, and you weren’t sure how to turn him down in the moment, and this strange, primal part of your brain wanted to have sex with him just to see if things changed. You think they might’ve. 

And sure enough, you’ve once again formulated a correct hypothesis. 

Because he makes out with you for a good ten minutes and it's fine, but when he skips to taking your scrub top off, things quickly fall apart. The first sign is when he starts to whine for you to take your pants off, too, you end up imagining about how he's going to hold your arms up in missionary and thrust and groan to his heart’s content, and... you don't feel into it. You don't think you could get into it. The second sign is when you have the thought that him flipping you over on your your hands and knees like he always likes wouldn't be so bad... since you wouldn't have to look at his face. The third and final sign is when he huffs and takes his clothes off first - an image that would usually have you pricking with heat - all you want to do is to check your pager for an excuse to leave. He's going to finish and not return the favor and ugh, what's the point. Even when you're just kissing, you don’t feel like he knows how to kiss back the way that you like.

When Minho gets literally nothing from you in return, he gives up on trying to have sex right now. Great. He sinks onto the bed with a harsh groan, then shoots you this frustrated look for you to explain yourself - j oke's on you, you don't even know how to explain this to your own brain.

You sigh like you’re more smitten with him than you are, and make up a dumbass excuse, “I’m going to be busy today, don’t want to think about this for all of it.”

Lie.

You don’t want to spend time contemplating why you’re feeling guilty. Or what you were picturing in your head to try and get in the mood. 

“Welllllll, I'm leaving tomorrow for Alaska for the conjoined twins case,” he reminds you, lifting his eyebrows to dangle the metaphorical, shiny carrot right in front of you, “Gonna be a month with only sexting and phone sex. You think you’re up for it?”

Maybe not having sex with your long term hookup you also have lingering feelings for will clear your head. In his direction or in the opposite direction. You don’t want to fall into the same patterns after this month apart.  

So, you have to do this.

You sit up against the wall to feel like you have some power, then be as straightforward as you’ve ever been in your life, “Would you like to go on a date with me when you get back?” 

If Minho says yes then you know you have to let Jaehyun down before the deadline. Because a date is serious, and by a slimmer than slim thread, your already established relationship here has priority. You would want to be serious about putting in effort in return if that is what Minho wants.

However, while all signs indicate this should be a prospect that you should be freaking out about, in that girly spot of your existence you haven’t done much growing in, you sit there and don’t feel much. You don’t know if this is what you want, you don’t know how you want him to answer, and you don't know if it's going to break you as hard if he says no. 

Minho’s brow furrows into ill-concealed frustration, and he lets out an equally as terse sigh, “That’s not what we’re doing.” He shakes his head like he's giving you a lecture for being improper, then adds on some condescending tidbits he thinks you haven't ruminated over, “Dating means we have feelings and feelings could compromise our professional relationship, which is never good for a pair of surgeons that are as legitimate as we are.”

Like you would ever let your feelings for him come in between you treating your patients. 

“But we’ve been sleeping together for almost a year. You don’t have feelings for me?” you wonder.

That isn’t even supposed to be a guilt-inducing question, you’re curious to the point of this being a scientific question. You don’t get how he can be unmoved for this long. You’d consider yourself cold in your personal life, almost reaching the line of being closed off, and even you developed feelings after trying not to. Either way, y ou get ready for him to say no and for this to be over. You're not going to pine after being rejected, you're going to shut it down and move on - not necessarily with Jaehyun, because that is a whole other can of worms, but just in general. 

And Minho surprises you.

He sits up from the bed and runs his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair, then admits lowly, “Yes I do, but I'm already confused and I don’t like it.”

Yelling at you, turning this into a competition, constantly trying to make himself look good, sure, they’re things he would’ve done in a normal situation. But you’re sure it’s exacerbated by your personal relationship on top of it all.

“You don’t want to try?” You're being as blunt and straightforward as possible, because this the only chance you’re ever going to get.

“I have no idea…..” Minho blows out his response in another thick exhale, which... wow. You never in a million years expected him to admit to not knowing something. “I’ve been single for so long I don’t know what I want. Let me think about it.”

There’s that phrase again. Think about it. You just want to know his decision already, for this back and forth to be over. Why can’t he know like Jaehyun does? He knows what he wants and what he wants is you, point blank period.

Ugh, this isn’t making it any easier. 

You shrug, and never in a million years did you expect your reaction to be a shrug and nothing else, “Sure, I guess. But I’m not going to wait around. You know I don’t do that.” There would be no benefit in you waiting around, and he would be selfish to ask you to do that. It would have to take special, concerted effort from him to get you to change your mind.

“You should decide too, what exactly you want from me,” Minho offers in return.

Yet his offering feels trite and useless, since you asking him on a date outright should’ve made your intentions known. To be frank, it feels more like he’s saying it just to have the last word in the conversation. 

You don’t say much more, just stand up and put the rest of your scrubs back on, tie your hair back into the ugliest braid to get out of there fast. Thank goodness you didn't actually sleep with him today, that would've made things far too weird. You're about to start the song and dance of leaving separately when Minho pulls his scrub top on and shrugs with more nonchalance than you’d like. “I guess we can just leave together, there’s no actual rule we can’t.”

Walking around the hospital arm and arm like you were meant to be together was once something you wanted to do with a kind of desperation that drove you crazy. This suggestion should give you butterflies but it really doesn’t. In fact, you're annoyed, because it's three in the morning and this doesn’t fucking matter.

But you let Minho drape his arm around your shoulder when you walk through the door together, though he still races to try and go ahead of you. Then you’re about two steps out of the on call room when you collide with a ghost in the hospital hallway… really, just Sungchan in his white hospital gown and IV pole, taking a late-night lap because he couldn’t sleep.

His handsome face dips into shock as he glances at your and Minho's positioning you haven’t had the foresight to undo, and he gasps, “Whoa, DC? Dr. y/l/n? Are you two are dating?” Before you answer, he gets self-reflective and funny in a way that makes you think of Jaehyun, “So much of this makes sense. I guess you were just working on this case together? Am I a weird couple’s competition?”

You take that opportunity to remove yourself from Minho’s grasp - and as clearly as he’s said to you so many times, you say in turn to Sungchan, “We’re not dating.”

You’re not.

If you were, you wouldn’t be thinking about Jaehyun right now.

“Ohhhkay, that is my cue to leave,” Minho awkwardly cuts in before anything else can be misconstrued, then waggles a stern finger at the boy and warns, “S, maybe you shouldn’t gossip so much. It’ll help with your healing.” Sungchan shakes his head, never wanting to stop gossiping in exchange for his health, so Minho just rolls his eyes, kisses you on the ear (what?), and says, “See you in a month, dollface, think about what I said.”

He strolls away like he owns the place, ugh.

You find yourself glad that he kissed the shell of your ear and not your cheeks, especially the one that's still a bit bruised. How did he not notice?

“Are you sure you’re not dating?”

Sungchan’s sarcastic question buries into your ear, and you turn to see him staring at you with a knowing little gaze. That, in turn, tells you he understands that there is more going on with your relationship than you just showed.

You sling a petty retort back at him, “Are you sure you’re still in college?” 

Shouldn’t he know the concept of a situationship never goes away? Even when you’re an actual adult?

“I’ve been with my girlfriend for forever, since we were freshmen in high school,” Sungchan sounds so grown up despite looking like a little boy as he stands on the IV pole in his socks, more so when he tsks at you, “I still can’t believe you’re sleeping with each other," (yikes!), "but at least it makes more sense than you two actually dating. I’d start questioning my people radar then.”

You suppose when you spend most of your life indoors being poked and prodded, you learn a thing or two about the people poking and prodding you.

“Really?” you wonder.

How come so many outsiders seem to know the ins and outs of all your relationships? That never used to be the case.

“You guys are nooooooooothing alike,” Sungchan dramatically professes to make his point. “And you don’t seem like the kind of person who would date someone different than you are.”

Weird. The reason why you started seeing Minho in the first place was because you thought he was the only one at the hospital on your level. That surgery that started it all was just you and him, and you don't think you spoke two words to each other beyond surgical formalities. He knew what you were going to do before you did it and it was the same for you, and that just transformed your relationship. 

Sungchan peeks down the hallway to make sure his doctor isn’t around, and then he whispers, “He’s like, very intense…… And you are so nice!” He knocks his IV pole into your sneaker as softly as he can, and finishes, “You’re the only person here who has actually made me feel like I'm still me.”

You don’t think that a year ago any patient - as supportive as you’ve made sure you’ve been - would've said that about you. You have been called many a thing in your life but not once, even when you were a child, was nice be the first adjective that came to mind.

And you know why.

Who changed you exactly.

You also can’t say that you and Jaehyun are similar at all… Right? 

“If I was single, I'd make a joke here and say wait for me.” Sungchan's little quip does the trick and gets you to laugh. Then he transforms into a serious and contemplative young man to give you a bit of advice you don’t want, but need, “Hmmm… I don’t know. I like DC a lot as my doctor. But as your boyfriend? Try someone else.”

How could you be leaving this conversation even more confused than you were when it started? You have to get another third party opinion on this, but not from someone who works in this hospital. They need to be from nowhere near this hospital, or your life, for that matter.

—

When you get home in the evening after a long, dead-tiring shift, there are no less than five different takeout bags hanging precariously from your apartment door handle. Chinese, an entire pizza, something that smells like hot dogs, and two more you cannot even see because they're so full.  You think about knocking on Jaehyun's door and complaining, because how on earth are you supposed to eat this food on your own. And then you realize he's on the road with the team this entire week.

So what? He called and had it delivered anyway? Why would he do that?

His note, printed on one of the receipts - which meant he typed it out on his mobile order - says it all without you having to ask. 

See you Monday, this is to make sure you don’t miss me! 

XO XO XO XO XO XO <- hope the kisses and huggies don't sway you :) hehe! JJ77

You’re really think you're in such deep trouble.

tbc. 

Chapter Text

Seulgi is sitting in a cafeteria booth with wide, wide eyes.

She can't stop staring at how big and fancy it is and you suppose you don’t appreciate the nice architecture of the cafeteria as much as you should. You mostly just sit, shove food down your gullet, and leave. Or, like now, you straight up waddle to her because your legs are so tired from this awful procedure that took forever. You have no idea what time it is or when you were supposed to meet her, yet you're weirdly relieved she came and stayed.

You slump over the table, think for about two seconds about falling asleep there, then mumble, “Is there still breakfast food?” 

“What?” Seulgi’s pretty voice echoes and that’s when you know you’re too tired for this. “It’s four in the afternoon.”

What in the fuck is going on. You really were just in surgery for twelve hours without realizing or being asked? Today was supposed to be your off day, hence why you asked her to come and have breakfast with you in the first place. 

“I didn’t think breakfast was going to be breakfast. I called your charge nurse and brought coffee and fries instead. Figured it’d be a long day.” The back of your hand stings when the scalding coffee cup makes contact, and the fried goodness fights the lingering stench of singed blood. That’s about enough to get you to lift your bleary eyes and give her the most worn-out smile ever - she’s so nice and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Seulgi spreads out a napkin to lay the fries out and share them with you, and asks, “What was it today?”

You take a massive swig of the coffee, then groan, “Girl with a windshield still in her. Not pieces, a full-on windshield.”

You couldn’t shatter it otherwise you would kill her on the table, but there was no way to get around her body cavity without shattering it. It was a mess. 

There’s a sharp little gasp, and your brain catches up with the remembrance that she doesn’t like gory things. You’re about to apologize when she gets a sparkle in her eye and admits, “That’s so cool. I can’t lie. I’ve been hanging around the cardio and trauma surgeons lately.”

You have enough energy to joke back, “Moms with sketchy EKGS just don’t do it for you anymore?"

“Everything was fine with that mom, by the way,” Seulgi updates you on that undercover consult you never bothered to follow up on. “I just asked her to come in more frequently so I could monitor her. Turns out she’ll be in town for a bit longer, so no problems.”

Good, that’s great. You’re glad she was able to follow that case from start to finish, and do so in a way that brought her some peace of mind. You smile at Seulgi in appreciation, then sit there for a second in awkward silence, unsure how to move this conversation forward. Jaehyun is the only non-Mayo friend you have and talking with her like you talk to him is not the same. Why did you even have the idea to have breakfast together? 

Seulgi pushes the fries your way and you start cramming them into your mouth with no reserve. Once you’ve got some fuel and start to feel less foggy, she ventures back into the conversation, “What, do you need help with a pregnant mom or something?”

Huh? 

“Oh, this call was 100% personal and not work related at all,” you blare through a mouthful of potato. “You said you had a boyfriend, right?”

“Um, yes?” she answers, now totally confused.

And that is when the embarrassment and remembrance hit you all at once. You didn’t ask her here to have breakfast, you asked her here so you could ask her things. And shit, you have no idea how to formulate those questions - because you’ve never had any female friends your age, because you've never had anything like this to gossip about with those female friends you didn’t have. 

“You know about relationship stuff, right?” You clarify your query so she doesn’t think you’re being a weirdo pervert, “I'm sorry I called you out of your work day to talk about this but shit, I'm driving myself crazy.”

You knew this was a bigger problem than you ever thought possible when you were in that insane windshield operation - all you could think about was how Jaehyun would find it funny that one of the curved glass pieces looked like a butt. 

Seulgi actually pushes away the fries she gets so excited by the prospect of girl talk, “Dude, I have no friends in my resident class. I’ve been surviving on stale tea from my college girlfriends and that’s all about having babies. Give me everything.”

You have no idea if she’s going to judge you or not, but you have no way out considering this is also pretty much your last resort. 

“Okay, I've been hooking up with one of my attendings for a year,” you admit, and though that already makes you cringe, you have to go further, “He’s handsome, successful, ten years older than me…  I thought I liked him but all he wants is sex–,"

“Ew, no,” Seulgi cuts you off with negativity, a surprise considering how much colleague fraternization happens at any hospital, “No, already. I don’t need the rest of the story to say no. No, no. No attendings who only want sex, we’re better than that.”

Wait.

You have to get the rest of it out, because it wouldn’t be fair if you left it hidden, “But I asked him on a date after he gets back from a case in a month and he said maybe. He admitted he has feelings for me but he’s confused because he doesn’t want to mess up our professional relationship.”

“Okay…… and?”

Seulgi holds out her hand to indicate you need to give her more substance. To her it’s so simple that the answer is no, but this past year has been so knotted and complicated she couldn’t possibly have those same thoughts if she had the whole context? Right?

“And if I'm being honest, I do like him,” you admit. “He’s like the male me, first off, which I thought was exactly my type.”

You thought it was necessary for a set of partners to have the same experiences, and you're about to leave it at that. But the whole point of reaching out to Seulgi was to be cripplingly bare with your honesty - something you couldn't do with your colleagues or acquaintances.

So you have to add on the more hurtful second admission, “And it…. it’s rare that I actually like someone. Te fact that I've liked him and waited for this long, not to mention slept with him this whole time, it has to be significant, no?”

You don't think you've ever been in love with someone, let alone liked them. Your last attempt at giving love to others ended so poorly. 

She rolls her eyes a bit dramatically, but is far more compassionate this time, “I guess I can see your dilemma. Maybe the time apart will do you good? If you’re thriving on your own without him and the sex, then that might be your answer?”

You’d started to wander down this path of thinking, that this separation is more necessary than you thought. If you’re able to get over it and not care, then why would you feel the need to keep Minho around? That means he didn’t add anything significant to your life. But if your separation is hard, and you spend the rest of this time thinking about him and only him, then you don’t know. You kind of don't want that to happen. 

“Okay, great." You're satisfied with the solution she gave. That sounds way easier than just going around in circles until the end of time, this will rip the bandaid off and be done with it.

“That can’t be it, that can’t be all the tea?” Seulgi groans when you check your pager. “That was like the easiest relationship dilemma ever!”

That is not it. That is not it at all.

Because that conversation was enough to get you to realize that you actually miss….. Jaehyun. You miss him badly, it’s never felt like this before. Having him gone on the road didn’t mean much to you in previous weeks, but now it’s like you have no reason to go home. There’s no one to bring you food (the deliveries are not! the same!), or to come barging in, or to pick up your mail so that Yuta doesn’t have to. It’s not the same responding to his texts instead of going over to his house and spending time with him in person.

When he signs his messages XO, you now think of how nice it felt when he hugged you. How a few kisses on your cheeks were not enough. 

“Nope! That’s not it! Fuck!” you exclaim, sarcastic and so, so embarrassed. “My neighbor…. Wait, do you watch sports?" You’re not sure if you should be blabbing about an NFL superstar’s personal life. But since he chose to involve you in it in the first place, Jaehyun is just going to have to deal with it. 

Seulgi shakes her head. “Nope, hate ‘em.”

Good, you’re glad she won’t know who he is.

He. 

Just thinking of Jaehyun has the funny feeling in your chest returning to spread all over your face in a wildfire of unknown sensation. You have never been able to pinpoint this the entire time you’ve been experiencing it, and you don’t know why you haven’t gotten more concerned. 

She points right at your cheeks and smiles in delight, “Oooooooh girl, you’re already blushing hard.”

Wait, that funny feeling was just blushing? Erythema? Seriously? That’s it? He was able to see the flash of your hidden feelings this whole time?

Oh, no.

“He is, um….” You don’t know how to describe Jaehyun to someone who hasn’t met him before, because there are truly no words that can do him justice, “He is the most ridiculous human being I’ve come across. He’s a football player from a farm in deep Georgia. If we’re being frank here, just dumb as a bag of rocks, but also the most emotionally intelligent man I think that has ever been created?”

None of him makes sense whatsoever, yet all of his lovely features were put together into the most incredible person. And the reason you stop yourself there is because if you get started waxing poetic about Jaehyun to someone else……. you think you might never stop. 

Seulgi covers her mouth with her hand and you can see the curve of her smile underneath it when she gasps, “OMG stop. Say no more.”

You have to, though.

“At the beginning I thought he was the most annoying human being." You didn’t quite understand why he is the way he is back then, and you can’t believe that you ever held that attitude. “But now we hang out every time I'm not on call and he’s begun to do stuff for me?”

He fixed your kitchen sink for you the other day with a wrench from his toolbox and a little bit of butter to grease the socket. Butter! And he did all of it with his shirt off, it was utterly ridiculous!

“Whoa.” She lowers her voice, then peeks around to make sure no one is listening to her question, “Is that your way of saying he eats cat?”

Good lord.

You haven’t gotten over the feel of his mouth on your cheek. You cannot begin to wonder what it might feel like curving up the side of your knee, what kind of kiss he might give the apex of your thigh where it meets your hip, what he would do pulling your und–, 

Nope.

“Worse." Now hoarse, you try to move past that image into one that, admittedly, fans the flame in you even hotter. “Like……. Moving, emotionally supportive stuff.”

Stuff that you’ve never told anyone before, let alone had someone take the effort into understanding.

“I have… a lot of family shit. I’ve basically been on my own since I was thirteen, and this weekend he brought some of his family up just so I could have a good experience for once.” He wanted to give you the sweet slice of childhood you’d never had without imposing, and it prods your tear ducts into overactivity as you cough away the emotion, “A-and when he found out I had no friends, this idiot…” You laugh to yourself at the memory of how persistent Jaehyun had been and how much you hated it, how all of it led to right now, “He signed me up for a Bumble BFF profile so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“Wait, me?” Seulgi gasps. “I responded to your neighbor catfish?”

Literally everything about Jaehyun is ridiculous, including this, and it might be what you like about him the most……….

Ugh, you like him.

You can’t deny the fact any longer. He knew without knowing that you needed a friend, and used his own innocently devilish scheming to make you realize it. And look, you’re kind of friends with Seulgi, even though you tried hard not to be. 

“Yes. What is he doing to me?” You press your forehead right down into the table out of frustration. He’s molding you and changing you in so many ways and you never were willing to admit it until now. “He asked me to give him a chance…”

Seulgi cuts in before you can finish, “And you said no because you’re annoyingly uptight about all your decision making - sorry, just being honest - and weighing all your options first.”

Damn. 

You’re not mad though.

You lift your chin with a regretful smile to meet her knowing expression, and admit as much, “Yeah.” 

She reads you for filth and is not wrong whatsoever - this is a war between comfortable and new and logic and emotion. Minho makes more sense within the bounds of your life, which is why you’re trying too hard to make this work despite the evidence that it doesn’t. Jaehyun brings an element of fresh, scary, exciting surprise and his place in your heart is carved out with not a single logical stroke. Which is why you’ve been more inclined to close off his path before you’ve even dared to walk on it.

But the fact that you care enough about Jaehyun to know you’re not a good option for him has to mean you have deep feelings, too.

If you didn’t care, you’d just fuck your frustration out and be done with it.

You want so much more than that. For both of you.

“You’ve been weighing giving him a chance all along,” Seulgi concludes for herself, sounding far too wise and far too smug that she nailed it on her first try. When you nod sheepishly, unable to make an answer come out, the smugness dies. It's replaced with the vivacious support she’s been lending to you all along, “Which is the right thing to do! Emotionally intelligent men are a rare breed, and emotionally intelligent men that are the good kind of dumb? I’ll let you in on a secret… even better! Then we get to wear the pants, which we’re of course used to.” 

It’s never felt like a competition with Jaehyun. He knows surgery is your thing, does everything he can to support you despite not grasping the intricacies of your profession, and never has a bad word to say about any of it. In turn, he himself is incredible at what he does. But he never tries to brag, never tries to put himself on a pedestal above you, never tries to insinuate that just because he’s a man and gets paid a lot, he deserves more than you do. 

“Wow,” you mumble. “You’re right.”

The fact that you'd never have to argue with Jaehyun over whether you need to use one stitch or another on a patient’s spleen, then pretend to their family that you agreed, is somehow more relieving than you thought it would be.

“Why the hell else do you think I'm dating a rapper?” Seulgi deadpans. 

You laugh out loud. A rapper? Fuck. Suddenly, you feel better about your options - he second best surgeon at Mayo and an NFL big shot are not at all bad choices to have. She is unable to hold in her laughter at how ridiculous that sounds either, so for a good thirty seconds you’re sitting there in the booth, imagining her dating Snoop Dogg, both of you laughing your asses off.

Then you’re back under the spotlight as she raises a teasing eyebrow and wonders, “Simple question that will make all of this easy. Who’s hotter?”

Minho is Minho. He’s the person who:

A) every nurse on the surgical floor secretly addresses as Minho Choi, FHD…. FHD for fucking hot doctor instead of MD for medical doctor.
B) wears his scrub shirts so tight everyone can see his abs through them.
C) has been on every cover of every medical journal possible just because he looks good.

And Jaehyun is still easily the most beautiful man you’ve ever met in your life. Not just because of his looks. Because of his heart.

“Oh, no,” Seulgi gasps, fainting back into her seat as she processes the almost-full package your neighbor has handed to you on a silver platter. And the audacity you had to not accept it immediately. “Emotionally intelligent, good dumb, and hot? Please, what’s the medical term for removing your head out of your ass.”

Unfortunately, you don’t think the transanal minimally invasive surgical technique you were taught in a seminar last semester would be of any help here. That’s no cure for denial, which is the real affliction you have. 

You suppose that’s as much of an answer as you can get.

“Now I'm invested,” Seulgi announces, clapping her hands and eating a celebratory fry. “So, we have no choice but to keep hanging out.”

You… you wouldn’t mind seeing her again.

You give her your personal number instead of your pager, because, well. You can’t exactly meet up for breakfast every time you have a question about Jaehyun you need to ponder. You already know that there are going to be a ton.

—

Today was so goddamn awful. 

A premature October snowstorm crashed into Minnesota with no warning at all and the amount of back-breaking shit you had to do in the past two days (you’re not even sure how long it’s been) is unbelievable. Even for you.

You'd barely gotten one hour of sleep - that’s how long you set your timer before your next elective procedure - before everything went to hell. That surgery was cancelled so you could rotate into five different surgeries on frostbitten, grotesque, unsalvageable victims and in the middle of it, there was a horrific car crash of first responders that you had to take the lead on in the ER. In the middle of that, a patient was brought to you after his internal organs started pushing into his chest and it was just a mess. You can’t feel your own feet and it’s not because it’s less than zero degrees out - you can’t even feel your own head attached to your body, other than the barest hint of your stethoscope across your neck.

Yuta’s jaw unhinges in surprise when he sees you shuffling through the lobby in your puffer jacket, sure the storm would strand you at the hospital. It took you about thirty minutes to just cross that one street, but you fought to make it home. You honestly think you might die - no exaggeration or disrespect - if you don’t get into a bed that’s warm and has actual pillows instead of a scrunched up scrub top. 

He reaches under the front desk and grabs you a freezing frappuccino you’re going to down as soon as you get upstairs. You wave in acknowledgement as you get on the elevator, too tired to say any more, and Yuta calls after you, “By the way, how many people today?!”

 “At least ten,” you weakly call back.

Ten people saved but so many more lost. The haze of your exhaustion dulled out the pricks of typical grief that would’ve bubbled up otherwise.

As the doors shut, Yuta’s teasing goodbye slips through, “Better be eleven next time!,” and you manage the quietest, most fatigued laugh of your life.

You know you’re going to take that as a challenge.

The elevator ride is legitimately dangerous - each floor that you go up your vision starts to flicker, you’re scared you’re going to fall asleep and end up riding the elevator up and down without getting in bed. But by some hand of luck, you make it to your floor………. only to realize you forgot your bag with your keys back at the hospital because you just walked out.

You lean against the door of Jaehyun’s empty apartment and your attempt at punching it in a tantrum of frustration ends as an exhausted tap of your knuckles on the wood. You’re going to have to go back and you’re going to get roped into staying for another surgery and if you don’t get five minutes of sleep soon, you’re going to be a sobbing mess. 

The door opens and you don’t know how you catch yourself from falling right into a very shirtless Jaehyun standing in front of you. His pajama pants are so low you can’t understand how they aren’t just off his hips.

Though none of this is different from any other time you’ve seen him, you’re going to kill Seulgi for forcing you to contemplate how hot he really is. He’s soooooo hot, with all these cute little freckles and his fucking huge hands and the approximately forty-nine abs on his torso, even though you know the most anyone can have is twelve. And why are you here contemplating Jaehyun’s body anyways? Wasn’t he supposed to be somewhere that wasn’t Minneapolis? 

You knock your head against his doorframe to stay awake, then you manage to mumble, “You’re here?”

He slips a hand between the wall and your skull the next time you try to knock yourself again. His warm, soothing, warm, tender, warm, really so warm fingers stroke your cheek as he sighs, “Yeah, we almost got stuck in Philly because of the storm… but I'm here.”

Your knees give out with no warning - not in a swoon, but a legitimate collapse of exhaustion - and before you can hurt yourself, Jaehyun catches you and picks you up in his arms like a baby. You can’t make words because he smells like peach soap and vanilla frosting, which means the Vikings must’ve won for him to have cake this early in the week. He is beyond hot in a literal sense, cuddly and good, too, and you feel the corners of your existence start to thaw from how frozen they were. The second you hear through his chest how hard his heart is beating, you get all light-headed again.

You rock a tiny fist of protest into his sternum as he walks into his house with your crumpled form still in his arms, and your verbal protest feels even sillier, “Stop, stop, you’re making me feel things.” He starts to chuckle, light and perfect so that it doesn’t hurt your head, and the way he smiles at you makes it worse. “You shouldn’t be doing this with your shirt off, you’re not a movie star.”

He’s carrying you through his house like the bare-chested hero he is! He needs to stop! You need to stop!

It’s so dark in here you realize he must’ve just gotten home and showered, and he takes you someplace that must be his bedroom. You can’t make a single thing out until he grunts with subtle effort and you feel yourself being put down right onto a cloud. You’re going to sleep on a cloud, hehe! No wonder, he must be able to jump that high for football, so he jumped into the sky and stole one for you! Wow! 

You’re swaddled in another ocean of softness and somehow blazing heat at the same time, like he pre-warmed the clouds for you beforehand. Once you’re snug and buried to your heart’s content in this blissful oblivion, Jaehyun shifts away so he can–,  he’s getting off the bed. H e put you in his bed, not on a burst of clouds. You just made that entire thing up in your head because you’re that delirious.  

You’re in Jaehyun’s bed and you don’t have the energy to make a fuss over how this is inappropriate.

Which means, without your resistance, he can let his gaze get all affectionate, press his hand directly into your head as he beckons you for pertinent information, “Too warm, too cold?” It feels perfect in here, and that seems like a bad thing, but you nod anyways. He looks so happy as he strokes your hair and then murmurs, “Have a good sleep, chickpea. See you at the end of the week when you wake up.”

Ha, he already knows you’re going to be dead to the world and there’s nothing that can stand in your way. Though his lingering presence is certainly making it quite hard for you.  

You feel like you’re hidden in all of his pillows at the same time and there’s not a lot of room because you’re right in the middle of his bed. So you yawn and mumble, “Where are you gonna sleep?” 

Jaehyun shrugs and makes sure the pillows are snug around you. “This house has four rooms, I can do whatever.” 

The idea of him moving away to where you can’t feel his body heat sweeping you up in its hold sends a deep shiver down your spine, and that comes out in your little whine, “But I'm cold.” 

“Are you lying to me?” He flirtily teases your earlobe with his fingers when he senses that comment wasn’t as straightforward as you intended.

You duck so your entire face is concealed in the pillow, where he can only see a corner of your eye and none of the blush you’d been giving away, and flirt back, “Maybe.”

Okay fineeeee, maybe delirium is the only thing that can get you to admit that the one improvement you could make upon this bed experience… is having Jaehyun in here with you. 

Jaehyun’s little laugh is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard, and he leans to tuck his chin on the edge of the bed and flirt even harder, “I can’t get under the covers with you, that’d make your decision way too easy.” He lifts a wicked eyebrow and you want to sink into the bed and disappear because he’s so right. “But I'll lay here with you until you fall asleep.”

Why does the sinus rhythm of your heart race into oblivion-, you need to stop asking yourself that. You know why.

He pulls up his little pajama pants, that have… printed, smiling cows on them, so he’s all proper and covered up, then he climbs on the bed and makes sure to stay over the covers. But he doesn’t bother to keep his distance whatsoever.

An unoccupied pillow is unearthed from under you so that he can rest his head by yours, let his nose meander so close you can feel the tickles. Then his hand takes up residence in your hair again, while he's whispering the sweetest nothings to you, “You must’ve had the longest day, I’ve never seen you this tired.”

Your eyes bow shut at his words, desperate to demonstrate for themselves just how exhausted you are, and a sudden gust of warmth cascades over your eyelashes. And then… then… then you feel the most delicate touch of Jaehyun’s mouth possible, a sweet kiss dancing across the horizon of your closed eyelids.

The vibrations of his words against your skin travel a quick path to your heart, “You did so much good,” before his mouth meanders to kiss one cheek, “saved so many people,” then the other, formerly bruised one, “ruled your little trauma kingdom.”

It was nice hearing that sentiment from Yuta, sure. But hearing it from Jaehyun gives you an indescribable boost of pure delight straight to your soul.

With your eyes still closed, you scrunch your face up on purpose and press yourself further into his hands. He holds you obediently and the bells of his laughter harmonize with his whisper, “More kisses or more words?”

See? He’s so smart.  

Both, you mouth at him and hope he sees in the darkness, before a massive yawn overtakes you and scrambles your words, “I saved…” a second yawn almost tears you from his grasp, “ ten people," a third yawn and your consciousness is gone, “I deserve it.”

He kisses your face until you can’t remember the words for the parts of your body, and does not touch your mouth once in the utmost demonstration of respect.

Your eyebrows get a cosmic tattoo of adoration, the divot in the side of your nose gets a cheery cherry pucker. The bottom of your chin gets a hidden rose bud, and when he gets brave enough, the rooftop corner of your lips gets the shy, smitten hello. And all the while, your ears are filled with the honeyed drip of his beckoning, branded compliments, “You’re the most prettiest, most smartest, most cutest doctor in the whole wide world. I think you’re my best friend in the whole wide world, too.”

You’ve never had a best friend before in your life.

At the age where you were supposed to make one, everyone was hooking up in dorm rooms and getting tattoos and drinking illegal alcohol instead. It feels perfectly perfect that someone like him is your first best friend. He’s what a best friend should be. 

“I'm sooooo proud of you,” he breathes against your cheek, his favorite spot to kiss, a dozen different jewels of his affection left there for you to harvest. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve done and honestly. You’re my hero and role model.”

You’re swooning.  

You’re already lying down so there’s nowhere to go, but you go limp with overwhelming feeling in his arms as the adrenaline rockets you into the atmosphere. He called you his hero. You don’t think anyone could ever give you a better compliment. 

He kinda feels like yours, too.

Jaehyun keeps talking, spinning these mindless braids of intention and adoration that try their ragged best to keep you awake long enough to hear them. And you wish to this day that you would’ve been able to commit them all to memory before you lose all consciousness.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night to a page.

The message is begging you to come back in - they’re bringing in a second round of frostbitten first responders that all need surgery and the surgical department is short half a dozen attendings due to the storm. 

You read the message and race to silence the urgent follow up, thinking that it’s going to wake a slumbering Jaehyun up. Which means you’re so confused when you look around in the middle of the bed - it’s finally bright enough for you to spot that he has polka dot sheets - and see that you’re the only one there. 

With a yawn, you roll out of your slice of heaven still in your scrubs and grab your jacket off the floor where he must’ve discarded it. When you go out into the living room, your eyes adjust the morning light to see Jaehyun there on the couch, wrapped up in his fuzzy blanket like a little burrito. He’s snoring away with his mouth open, clutching the matching throw pillow to his chest, and for a moment your confusion lingers. Why would he be here on the couch if he…..?

Even though this is an invasion of privacy, you’re pretty convinced he A) wouldn’t mind and B) would encourage you to race around his apartment real quick and see for yourself that he… doesn’t have anything in any of his extra rooms. All of them are empty save for one, which holds his clothes and luggage strewn about in it as some kind of a makeshift closet. He doesn’t have four rooms he could sleep in, he has one, and he let you sleep in it instead. 

Your heart sings (ridiculous) this song of unbridled, requited (completely ridiculous) affection (far too damn ridiculous, again) for him.

He really is rubbing off on you. 

Your pager goes off a third time, the vibrations throttling you into letting out one last yawn that sends the rest of your exhaustion away. Then, you have a secret choice.

To leave now, or to…..

You tiptoe over to the couch, and Jaehyun’s snoring doesn’t break once. He really must be so tired but even as he sleeps he looks just like an angel - long eyelashes dancing against his cheeks, droll little nose marked up with the couch pattern, lips whistling with each of his exhales. You lean in and kiss the sunrise of his cheek, on the symmetrical spot he loves on you, and only then do you leave to go to work.

You think you’re even more confused if possible.

But in a good way? How is that even a thing?

—

The snow storm turns into a second summer, which means you’re sweating your balls off trying to read through your schedule when Jaemin pokes his head out of a patient room for you. You’ve been neglecting the interns as of late - your postponed storm surgeries have been piling up a crazy amount and you’ve spent more time prepping for your lecture than you intended, so you make sure to not blow them off and go right in.

Then you're bombarded by a rehearsed announcement, “He’s doing well, he can maybe leave the hospital soon!”

You’re missing something here.

You scan your tablet quick to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything on the schedule for today. When you don't see anything, you look up to see Jaemin, Jeno, and Ningning standing in a row beside Sungchan’s bed, and he's beaming with his arms out in a theatrical pose to demonstrate how ‘well’ he’s been doing. Right after that, you feel a strong billow of pride - even though you haven’t been checking on them, your maggots were able to keep up with the his care without needing a reminder.

Without reading his chart or his vitals, you put your hands on your hips and say pointedly, “See, Sungie sung, you can go out and live your life and stop bothering me!”

Every time you’ve seen him since your last encounter, he’s been trying to weasel more and more personal details out of you. And that makes you hate him (metaphorically!) more and more. 

“Well not until you tell me the updates,” Sungchan argues.

“What updates?” Jaemin blabbers just as soon as Jeno's expression crosses into confusion. The two of them look to Ningning as the designated girly girl, and she brightens up and warbles, “Are you talking about relationship tea?!,” making the fatal mistake of thinking they’re close enough to you to ask.

This hospital will never find out your personal business.

“Ask me again and you’re on rectal exams for the next month." You watch as all three of them process your threat, then their mouths zip shut and their bodies clench in fear at the idea. Sungchan starts cackling out loud, thinking he’s untouchable, before you glare at him and growl, “Watch it, I'm going to make them practice on you.”

He shuts up.

You shoo the interns out with a good job and a promise to let them scrub in whatever they can pick up from the ER, which makes them scurry away to troll for cases. Chief Kwon intended for you to take this week light as a break from your work during the snowstorm, but you can’t just sit around and do nothing, not when you can teach them. Sitting with Sungchan like this is always so calming and peaceful, though - on a typical day, he's either listening to music or reading his textbook, but today you sense he’s in the mood to talk. 

“So." You have no problems getting the conversation going now, “You really want to play pro football after this?”

Most of the time, men are so easy to please, they make simple goals and never reach for anything too lofty beyond the immediate fulfillment of their desires. But you don't know. You want to know more about it. Because then maybe you’ll understand how to relate to Jaehyun.

“Duhhhhh,” Sungchan sounds just like the twenty-year-old he is, “I want to play for the Vikings, I told you. It’s only been my lifelong dream-,"

A girl rushes in in the middle of his sentence, wearing a turtleneck dress and her hair in braided pigtails. She doesn't seem to notice you when she hurries over to his bed, and as she turns to hug him, you can see from the side that she’s decently pregnant - maybe four or five months along?

She kisses him on the forehead and presents him with little plastic cups, warbling, “The cafeteria had those weird butterscotch puddings! I grabbed them all, lovebird!” Sungchan points a subtle finger your way and she turns around in surprise, hands going to hold her belly. She has such a girly voice it makes you happy, “Oh my gosh, who’s this!”

She gives you the sweetest smile ever, and since you feel weirdly at ease with both of them, you introduce yourself, “I'm the chief of trauma, just curious about this case–,”

“She’s the one boning DC,” Sungchan announces to her with no regard for your sanity, before he gives you such a stern stare. “But we’ve been trying to get her to stop, right?”

You’ve stopped. You’ve stopped completely, but there’s no way you’re going to tell Sungchan or his girlfriend what you’ve replaced that with. 

“Lovebird, stoppppppppp it." She playfully gives his shoulder a nudge, then apologizes on his behalf to you, “I’m Minju, I’m really sorry for my idiot boyfriend’s unprofessional behavior.” Sungchan pokes right at her stomach and she giggles, then ends up caving, “No, it’s crazy going from being at college to being here, so we’d love to hear about it!..... Only! If you need to talk to us!"

Hahaha, she’s such a cute girl, just like he is. The way she edits her desperate need for gossip to sound like she’s helping you is too funny.

Ah, to be twenty again. 

“What I do in my free time isn’t important, but I have been using it to check in on your boy every so often,” you deflect in a way you know she’s going to appreciate. “Keeping him all good for you and the baby.”

Minju runs - or waddles, they both look the same on her - right over and hugs you with quiet relief. You stand there for as long as she wants and don’t try to break away, even though you typically avoid letting your patients hug you. She seems like an exception. 

“Babies. I'm having twins." You have to police yourself not to react to her correction because their family is not your business. She rubs her chest in a slight wince as she heads to sit down at the head of the bed, to kiss her boyfriend and cuddle him as close as her belly can allow, before wondering, “What were you two talking about?”

Sungchan absentmindedly links their hands together, as if it feels unnatural for them to be any other way. And, shit. It feels weird to want what they have. Getting to where they are, being that comfortable in their love even though they’re almost a decade younger than you? That seems impossible.

“Just that I want to play for the Vikings when I'm out of here,” Sungchan answers.

Minju lays her head down on his broad shoulder, then she tears up in glee when she tells you, “Oh yes, we’re going to have a Vikings themed nursery and everything! Even if it doesn’t happen for us!”

Another jolting snap of possibility sears through you. Would you really be like this if you had a boyfriend? If you had a husband? Picking out nursery themes and supporting their dreams even if they don’t come true? You can’t picture yourself doing any of it… but you can.

“Who’s your favorite player on the Vikings?” You just have to know - if it’s Mark, you’re gonna die and he’s gonna die. Hated player number t wenty-three is going to have a swift reality check after that. 

Sungchan looks at you like you’re crazy for asking, then deadpans with full sarcasm, “Number seventy-seven, Jaehyun Jeong. Duh.”

Fucking duh. 

Your entire body experiences an insane quake at the mere mention of the name. The strange, billowing serendipity between Sungchan and Jaehyun is almost too much to handle. 

You lean against the hospital room doorway in a sweet mimicry of how he stands outside his apartment, faithfully waiting for you to come home from your unpredictable schedule. And you quietly reveal to them, “He’s my neighbor.”

He’s way more than your neighbor, he’s been more than your neighbor for some time now. 

“What the heck?!” They both freak out at the exact same time in the exact same way, even though you’re sure Minju isn’t a 'real' football fan. They're shivering in excitement and their little breaths come out so fast and in tune, and at one point she has to physically hold him down from standing up and getting too excited. Then, there's this unbelievable moment of sticky sweetness when they realize they're both getting too worked up - a ritual that feels borne out of years of practice - then they link hands and press their noses together.

Easy, Sungie sung.

I’ve got you, Minnie min.

And slowly, they sync their breathing to calm down for both of their respective healths. You feel like you just watched a magic show of true love or something, as the two of them turn back to you completely still and at peace.

Sungchan is so much more collected this time around, “What? Are you serious?”

“Lives right across the hall from me, sweetest guy ever, has the sweetest family.” The sweetest smile, the sweetest heart, the sweetest words to say - it’s like Jaehyun came into the world and then was dipped in the purest Georgia honey, just to ensure that everything he did was seasoned in the essence of sugar. 

“Now why couldn’t you just go for a guy like that instead of DC? You deserve a nice guy.” Sungchan groans like he’s looking out for you, but gives himself away when he jumps to asking, “By the way, can we meet him?!”

“Nope,” you pop the p on purpose just to frustrate him, and Minju laughs so happily when her boyfriend pouts. “Not after all this smart talk about my relationships from you.”

You are not going to tell them Jaehyun will most likely be upset if he ever finds out you turned down the request.

Sungchan tries to nudge Minju surreptitiously so you don’t notice, but you see all of it. She straightens up so her belly is all the way out in a distraction, then fiddles with her braids to look more innocent when she asks, “I don’t know you at all, doctor, but from what Sungie says? You totally deserve, like, the sweetest guy.”

You know what she’s doing, you’re not dumb. She’s trying to sweet-talk you into letting her and her boyfriend meet Jaehyun.

“You never know what happens if you try! I got this one by calling him after class one day and just…”

“You word vomited, loveydovey,” Sungchan fills it in when Minju gets too shy to continue her story. “It was so cute.”

Pang. 

They say this like it’s so easy for you to just pick up the phone and ‘word vomit’ your feelings! You don’t even know how to articulate that to yourself, let alone to another person!

“Ughhhhhh, never mind! We’re not supposed to be encouraging her!” Sungchan reads your frozen expression totally wrong, then hisses at his girlfriend to stop giving you dating advice. Then he groans as he knocks his head back against the bedframe, thinking it's too late, “Just page him, who cares! Maybe you’ll cure cancer and grow me a heart in the middle of your sexy times! But you really shouldn’t.” 

Behind Minju’s back, Sungchan sends you a solemn, steely look, to make sure you do not follow through with anything of what they said. 

Wow.

Wow, wow, Sungchan is worried you're thinking about doing those romantic things for Minho. But that’s not what you had in mind at all. You already did the confessing with him and it didn’t make you a fraction as anxious as contemplating the idea of going through with this. 

Heartbeat now rushing in your ears, you say your goodbyes to them for the day and practically sprint out of the room. You're only a few steps into the hallway when your impatience takes over and forces you into dialing a familiar number, even when there are still tons of people around, making this conversation nowhere near as private as it should be. 

Jaehyun is already chuckling by the time he picks up on the second ring. It makes you feel so good and warm, “Another patient that looks like me, chickpea?”

“No, but I was with that one, he’s kind of friends with me now. He’s a huge fan of yours,” you giggle in return, able to picture for yourself just how big Jaehyun's chest is puffing out wherever he is right now. And honestly? You wanted to tell Jaehyun about this conversation specifically, because Minju and Sungchan are another two tick marks on his list of fans here in Minnesota. You’re sure he’d appreciate the encouragement. 

“OMG, don’t break up with me for him.” For once, you feel okay laughing about this joke when he does. The dating metaphor doesn’t even phase you anymore, not when the lines are so blurred you cannot pick out their existence anymore. 

And it’s not like Sungchan and Jaehyun could compete, really. Because even if they were on a level playing field, you think you’d pick Jaehyun every time - you'd pick him over anyone, if you’re being honest. 

“He has a wife and a baby, but okay. I'll think about it,” you flirt - so, so quietly and subdued you don’t think he’ll manage to pick up on it.

Until his echoing ha crowds right into your ear through the grainy speakers, unleashing a wave of his subtle pride straight into your emotional cortex.

“Why’re you calling?” Jaehyun wonders, before a burst of noise in the background blocks out something he says. His surroundings get muffled and stacticky, when, you assume he holds his phone in close so that you can only hear him, “Sorry, I'm just on the bus to the team plane and don’t have a lot of time.”

Should you do it? Should you really confess to Jaehyun with no warning? When he’s surrounded by his teammates, about to get on a plane with no means of communication? Doesn’t he deserve better than that? 

Don’t you deserve to get this off your chest, though?

“I… I….... l…......…” You try to do it, you try to force out the unfamiliar syllables spelling out I like you, and the cowardly cortex chooses to take over instead, “I'll be gone for the conference this weekend, so don’t bring… or send... me food.” His next breath comes out laden with whine potential, and you warn him again, “Jaehyun Jeong, do not.”

You know he’s going to try to do it anyways, but that food is going to rot while you’re away in DC. 

“I'm not here either.” You can picture how deep his dimples are as he grins to himself, trying to think up some scheme to get around your warning, “but I won’t–, WAIT, DID YOU SAY THE CONFERENCE WAS THIS WEEKEND?!”

Good lord, he almost blows out your eardrum.

After his detonation has cooled off, you’re able to press your phone back to your ear and answer, “Yeah.” 

You have a whole slide deck on your computer that you only have the editing left on. You didn’t want to make a new presentation when you’ve been giving the same one for forever, but Chief Kwon was appalled when you pulled up the four year old slides in your pre-conference debrief and insisted. You started to piece together the notes, and that made you so bizarrely anxious you decided to give up until the last possible moment - the flight there. 

He’s upset and the whines do come out then, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I want to get it over with, treat it as just another boring presentation like grand rounds….” You catch yourself from referencing the hospital and attempt to explain it in terms he’ll understand before he has to ask, “Never mind. Like, daily briefings with your coach.”

Jaehyun understands it right away and you hear his twinkly giggle at you trying out a football metaphor and getting it kind of correct. But it’s true, you'd get even further into your own head if you put too much attention on this presentation's weight on your future. You can't really afford to do that after the kind of exhausting week you just had. 

“Then I will ignore it too,” Jaehyun announces, before he clears his throat and mocks up his voice into this horrible Southern twang, “Have a very generic time at your very generic conference, doctor ma’am. See you when you get back, like nothing cool or fun happened! Bye bye!”

“Bye Jae.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling this hard. 

He keeps the southern drawl on for just a little longer to get you to laugh one last time, “Goodbye now, ma’am.” 

“Bye,” you whisper again. 

You’re hoping maybe Jaehyun will stay on the line, pull out one of those ridiculous catchphrases of encouraging support like he always does. Because, yep, realizing that your lecture in front of Congress is happening in literally two days, now you’re pushing past anxiety straight into outright nervousness. And you’d never characterize yourself as a nervous person, ever. You’ve never once been nervous before a surgery, not even before your very first one.

But he just whispers back, “Bye-bye,” and says nothing else before hanging up.

However this goes, good or bad, you’re at least comforted by the knowledge that you will get to come home and see him after. Maybe then he’ll say something perfect, as he usually seems to do. 

—

When you get home to pack after a rough thirty-six hour on call shift that you took because no other attendings were available, there’s a vase of dead camellias and jasmine blooms waiting outside your door. Well, they’re not fully dead, not yet - but they’re dried out and withered and wilted because the water they’re in has almost evaporated. As if they had been sitting there for a few days. 

When you read the card, you can hazard a guess as to who sent them, but in no world could you have predicted what Jaehyun would write on that card. 

Hope you have just an okay time. XO JJ. 

You need a second.

You seriously need a second, a second of silence, a second of stillness, a second of unmoving existence where you hold onto the wall and take a deep breath to keep your head from exploding. 

He is just. So. So, so, so.

Fill in the adjective, because you don’t know what fits there the best anymore. The words you want to use feel far too committed, and you can’t use them when Jaehyun doesn’t know you want to.

—

The conference, in the most unscientific terms possible, blows hard.  

You spend the first two days listening to congresspeople drone on about healthcare costs that they know nothing about, and the entire time you’re all dressed up and uncomfortable. You're trying not to have the cliché thought that you’d rather be in your scrubs, but t he pantsuits are unfamiliar and itchy and you hate them. You think you look ridiculous.

And in general, you’re having the shittiest time because you anticipated coming here with the goal of promoting yourself, your work, and the Mayo Clinic to the government of the United States. You didn’t think that was a ludicrous assumption to make.

But again, two days in and all you’ve done is schmooze with government officials who:

A) can’t believe your age, and,
B) can’t believe you’re there alone. 

Even tonight, at the grand gala that you’re going to be presenting at, you’ve gotten asked an uncountable number of times by random geriatric men why you're there alone. Where your date is. Where your boyfriend is. And from a select few, where your girlfriend is, too. While you appreciate the inclusivity, you just hate it’s happening, period.

A direct quote from one of the military officials that you write down in your notes to text Seulgi about is, word for word, Mrs. y/l/n? Where’s your husband? The second you smiled and told him to address you by your title, by doctor, he went off to talk to one of the other male doctors presenting.

You’re going to give a lecture on a groundbreaking medical innovation and somehow you’re second-guessing if that’s the right speech to give, because there’s no ass kissing in it. Talking science would only be helpful if you were talking to the current Surgeon General himself, and that’s not who you have to impress to get the nomination.

You’re frustrated.

Really, you’re feeling so lame, like you’re only there for token representation and no one is going to take you seriously for the rest of the night. And you're feeling even more stupid that you decided this morning to wear a sparkly purple dress instead of a suit in the hopes that it would help you. You don't know where your logic went with that one.

You decide to hang out at the bar and not talk to anyone. You aren’t going to get the nomination anyways, so what’s the point of being friendly.

Ding.

You’ve been so annoyed you decided to leave your pager alert on, in the hopes that everyone else would get annoyed and then be forced to see how serious your job is. Only this isn’t a serious text at all.

[8:57 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : hi!!!!!!!!!!! :) 

Yes, you had to edit his contact name because it was a little toooo long. He put in the new smiley, though, like you could ever forget he had dimples.

[8:58 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : finished my game and am at team hotel and found a bunch of doctors hanging????? made me think of u :)
[8:58 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : miss u! XO

He is so……………………….. cute.

You were trying not to think it, making the excuse for other adjectives or phrases that could go at the end of that sentence, because cute meant you liked him. But Jaehyun is such a warm-hearted, cute, charming person, more so than anyone you’ve ever met in your life–, 

[8:59 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : Lol bruhhhhhhhhhhhhhh cb 2 the goddamn hotel lobby. saw the fucking hottest girl of my lifeeeeee

You read the message, thinking it’s for you, and then you have no idea what to think.

He’s obviously texted the wrong number without realizing, which is fine and it happens. But the contents of the message.... um. Okay, you don’t have any sort of claim over him and vice versa - yet after having this epic back and forth about your friendship status and what he wanted it to be, it is strangely hollow for you to read words signifying Jaehyun’s lust for someone else.

It feels like… like… like jealousy.

[9:00 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : Wheewwwwwww she was so fucking fine like i nvr thought any1 could ever b on the same lvl as cutie md but DAMN
[9:00 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : i cannot u know but u should single king

You’re jealous.

You’re so so so so so so so so fucking jealous, you’ve never been this jealous in your life and damn, it actually hurts. You want to reach through the screen and throttle him, and then find the invisible woman he’s talking about and throttle her, too. All of which is just an unhinged sympathetic nervous system response that only confirms your jealousy.

Of course you can’t do any of that. Not only is it unhinged, whoever he’s talking about must be incredibly beautiful and accomplished if he saw her at a doctor’s convention - much more legitimate than this rigamarole you’re at. 

All you can do is get him to realize his mistake and see if it makes him feel guilty. If it doesn’t, then you’ll be left to wallow in your jealousy.

[9:03 pm] you: Jaehyun.

You read his message again - because you’ve had some alcohol and want to be dramatic about things - and. Cutie md?

Is he talking about you? Jaehyun thinks you’re hot?

He used the terms “most cutest” and “most prettiest” to describe you, but seeing him call you in a hot in a message that was clearly intended for you never to see? It comes across as different and you don’t know why.

And what does he mean he cannot? He cannot what?!

[9:04 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : ? 

Is he serious?

[9:06 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! omg.
[9:06 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : i didnot mean 2 send that 2 u that was tothehsdfjsdf 
[9:06 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : to the grp chat!
[9:06 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : osaki is super single!!!!
[9:08 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : i promise i wasnt objecting her look!!!!!!!!!!!!
[9:10 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : [img127.jpg]

Objecting her?

Does he mean objectifying her? Damn it, why are you thinking he’s cute again? This isn’t cute.

He sends you a picture of her, you only need to scroll up a few millimeters and find out who’s stolen the attention of your cute neighbor before you had a chance to tell him you…. Well, thought he was cute. 

[9:12 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : btw this pic was not taken before i did not send it 2 the group it was not meant 2 be creepy i  took it just now to provet to u
[9:12 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : will delete asap
[9:14 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : also i wasn't gonna talk 2 her dw. ur my #1

Stop! This is too much.

The same reluctant smittenness is still hanging around as you brace yourself as you scroll up, then warn your exhausted self not to make rude comments that another woman doesn’t deserve.

As soon as you see the picture, you become a bit disoriented.

The room and the background looks a bit familiar, that blooming green plant and the chandelier with a big diamond accent dangling from its center are both things you feel like you’ve seen before. The woman in question, sitting in the center of the snapshot, seems really familiar as well. The plum dress she has on makes her look a bit pinched and uncomfortable from afar, yet he was right, it also gives her this untouchable aura of beauty–,

[9:16 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ^‿^ 。 ) : her in the purple!!!!!!!!! see!

Ugh, please don’t do this, please don’t do this. You try to convince your brain you’re not interested, but your curiosity has already been piqued. You zoom in and…….

[9:18 pm] you: Jaehyun. That’s me. 

You see your face, it’s literally the side of your face where your gaze has dropped towards the bar counter in disinterest. Jaehyun is here at this hotel, took a picture of you without knowing, and called you the hottest girl of his life. When you glance up to see how you just missed all of this unfolding, you indeed spot your neighbor right there in the entryway crossroads between the ballroom and the lobby - cute and sauve in his lilac satin dress shirt and black dress pants, checking his phone for… your message. His head jolts for a second, and then his eyes slowly peel upwards.

His jaw drops. 

You think your heart, no exaggeration, is going to fall out of your chest cavity.

tbc.

Chapter Text

Jaehyun blinks hard.

You're convinced he's not sure it's you until you give him this awkward wave that sends a literal crackle through your elbow. He runs over in this half-skipping gait that makes him look like a baby chicken, and he’s still about ten feet away when he blurts, “What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be at a conference!”

From here, you can see the massive sign at the entryway he just walked by, that says HHS & Congressional Committee on Public Health Conference - quiet please. 

“I am!” you hiss, to try and get him to be quiet even though there’s no one out here. “I have to schmooze with the members of Congress that would approve my hiring! And that has to happen in DC!”

You know University of Georgia and Yale don’t exactly teach the same things, but he should know where Congress is, right?

“You can’t also be here when I had a game here!” Jaehyun argues back.

How does that even make sense? 

He reaches out and holds your shoulder to steady himself, and when he feels the satin of your dress strap he smiles to himself. And as he looks back at you, he gets all starstruck by the simple sight of your face - you can see for yourself the path his irises follow, past your hair that’s done up like it never is, down to the jewelry you’re wearing that you didn’t remember you owned, lingering far too long on your neckline. 

Jaehyun stares and stares and then catches himself when his hand presses a little too deeply into your skin. He shakes it off and gets back to his usual cheery self, “So, are you having fun, knocking them dead…?,” before he jolts and then goes sober, “...having a boring time at your very regular presentation?”

He remembered.

You’re about to lie to him when the weird emotion that has been building all night catches you off guard and forces you into a frown. Jaehyun must spot it before it disappears, since he asks, “What’s wrong? Why are you not woman doctor goddess glowing right now?”

“Because everyone here is more interested in my relationship status than what kind of work I'm doing, I’ve told you about this already. Can’t stop getting asked why I'm here by myself.” You’d like just one person to recognize you from the work you do at Mayo before the weekend is over. Instead of wondering what kind of place settings you and your boyfriend picked out at Ikea for your house.

Like he wants to annoy you on purpose, Jaehyun raises an eyebrow and puts some flirtation in his question, “So why isn’t Minho here with you?”

“Why would he be here with me?” you retort. “I didn’t invite him.”

Nobody understands that you can exist as a doctor and a woman on your own. The endless looking around for your companion makes you feel shitty and small, because it feels the exact same as when your professors in college would wonder about your parents. And Minho would’ve only made things worse - there’s no situation where you would’ve ever invited him here, unless he was also brought to give a lecture. 

Jaehyun fights this strange little smile before he exhales, “I know, joking. That’s not fair, I'm sorry,” and puts a soft hand around your waist to hug you. 

He knocks his head into yours while you’re still in the embrace, and when you pull apart and stare up at his face from a closer angle, you feel this indescribable pressure in your chest. It fits none of the cardiac symptoms you’ve ever read about. He’s so handsome - despite just playing in a football match - and smells like the clean, sweet soap he uses in his bathroom. His hand feels sturdy and reassuring on your waist and he didn’t laugh once when you were complaining. Not to mention he thinks you’re hot.

So the logical thing to do here is to kiss him, right? 

You know, you know, you skipped all the actual logical steps.

His mouth is right there, though, pink and pretty. And if you delve into the delusions in your head, Jaehyun looks like he wants to kiss you, too. He really does. You’re only partially making up his eyes dipping to your mouth, you swear.

“Well, you could’ve just told us you had a boyfriend already!”

You’re ripped out of this bubble of fantasy and forced to endure Congressman Booze from Tennessee meandering over to retrieve a full whiskey glass in the middle of the ongoing lecture. You have no idea how you’re supposed to take that comment, yet Jaehyun doesn’t remove his hand from your waist. In fact, you can feel him bristle against your shoulder before he grunts, “Excuse me?” 

For once, you’re content to stay silent and let Jaehyun talk for you -  you don’t want to get involved in this kind of conversation for the thousandth time this weekend. 

Mr. Booze smiles right at you with an expression that is predicated by both his name and what he’s feeling, and slurs, “You didn’t have to hide the fact that you’re a family woman. We understand that certain things take priority for people like you.”

Jaehyun fumes out loud, you can hear how ragged his exhale is with anger in a demonstration of his most unused emotion. You have to say something before he’s made uncomfortable enough to erupt, and you have to do it fast.

You face the politician with an innocent, wide-eyed smile, and ask, “People like me? What do you mean?” 

You’re going to play unbelievably dumb and force him to say it out loud. You're a woman. 

Congressman Booze is caught off-guard that you're not just submitting to his questions like he'd expected. So he shrugs and tries to give you his attempt at a sly smile, “You know……….”

“I don’t, tell me." You blink your eyes a gazillion times in the effort to play it up, and he does not like that at all. 

“There’s no need to be rude. You wouldn’t want to work yourself into a bad mood before your presentation.” He tsks at you like you're a child and not the head of your department at a world-renowned hospital, and as what sounds like a fart erupts from his body, he starts to walk away.

And then Jaehyun takes it upon himself to mutter loud enough for the congressman to hear, “You didn’t even ask about her work. No need to be rude, dumbass.”

You get so… what is the non medical term for aroused? hot and bothered? watching Jaehyun be aggressive on your behalf. Like damn, he looks hot right now. He’s always been handsome, in a pristine, puppy good-boy, Disney prince kind of way. But he now he’s sweaty and red-faced, the top button of his shirt is barely hanging on, and……….. goddamn.

Mr. Booze whirls around, stumbles, then stumbles again when he tries to advance back towards Jaehyun. “What did you say to me?!”

“Nothing, Congressman! Have a good night!” Jaehyun chirps, flashing the man his signature dimpled smile while he plays innocent too.

You’re not sure Jaehyun is aware he’s checked off the gaslighting part of Gaslight, Gatekeep, and Girlboss right then.

His fingers digging into your waist and his hot breath on your neck steals your attention back his way. Your heart skips a beat or twelve when Jaehyun glares at the congressman for one last second, before he smiles back at you with his usual puppy sweetness, “I can see why you’re not having fun, that guy was….,” He is caught up in something on your face that you can’t see, and he trails off into aimless silence, “Mean.”

Sitting there as if you don’t know the actions to make yourself move, you don’t know what the hell to do as Jaehyun presses into your side so closely you can feel the outline of his ribs through shirt. Before he, with great, tender care, brushes some hair out of your face that had come loose during the confrontation.

“Thank you.” When your soft gratitude billows over him, he takes it a step further to try and re-pin the strands in your bun. You reach to grab his wrist to stop him, fumbling, “N-no, N-not the hair, the-,”

You can’t even get it out. He didn’t have to defend you like that and risk his reputation with a member of Congress, only to make you happily comforted in a place that has made you feel everything but.

Jaehyun squeezes you where you’re squeezing him, before whispering back, “Yeah, of course.” 

He lets go of you and you let go of him and despite being impossibly close - even closer than when you were lying in his bed together - nothing happens. It’s intriguing, feeling a human being next to you like this, full of life and want when you’re used to the opposite.

You shiver down the length of your entire body when his hand comes to hold the back of your neck in a delicate grasp, and he clears his throat to say quietly, “Let’s get a drink to calm you down before your lecture.” He signals the bartender over and starts ordering since you are physically unable to make words, “No beer for you, so hmmm. One glass of champagne and a water for me. I have to fly home tonight, so gotta stay sober.”

You cling onto him because you don’t know what the fuck else to do with yourself, and Jaehyun does the same, slips his hand to hold you at the juncture tendon between your neck and your shoulder. When he opens up his phone and spots the picture of you he sent, he smiles to himself in an intoxicating display of his dimples, and—, What the fuck is going on? What is going on, do you really like him that much????????

It’s a trite question, obviously you like Jaehyun to a degree that you didn’t think was possible. If he was just your friend and neighbor none of this would be happening. But a ribbon of worry starts to tie you up, if you’re reading this wrong, if you waited too long, if he's just being nice, because he hasn’t yet made a move.

“Here’s your drink, sweetheart.” The nickname almost doesn't register, since Jaehyun chooses to bend over to hand you your glass and leaves his mouth right there, literally right there. If he breathed with particular force, the bottom swell of his lip would have no choice but to be on yours.

But again, he doesn’t kiss you.

His mouth loiters and lingers and tempts, his pricking breaths dotting out a permanent little tattoo of this moment across your lips. 

Then he straightens back upwards and your fingers are left quaking in front of your tingled, sparking lips. You cannot process this whiplashing yes-but-no game he’s pulling. He stands there like such a cocky, unbothered dude and gives the bartender his card in between two fingers. Ugh, that’s such a manly thing to do but why is it so hot on him! Jaehyun pulls his water glass back on the counter and he’s about to continue on waiting for the check, and all of a sudden you’re just… you.

You rise up in your chair to grasp his handsome face in your hands and you kiss him for the first time. There’s no hesitation, no opening, no shy smooch or a blossoming moment where you look at each other in surprise.

You meld your mouth right into his for the instant gratification of no longer having to suffer through waiting, and contrary to everything you were just thinking, Jaehyun meets you in the middle with equal fervor. He curls you into him with one hand against the back of your neck and then his mouth burrows into yours so deeply you don’t know how you’re ever going to get the feeling out of your skin. It’s so wonderful kissing him, because he kisses like he was designed to kiss in exactly the way you want, the twisting slips of his lips are soft and perfect with just the right amount of pressure.

But you don’t get how he’s not freaking out like you are right now, like you thought he’d be.

You let out a gasping breath when he breaks away before you can tease his mouth open and feel his tongue. You do not understand how his face is both blank and straight - despite keeping his hand tucked under the strap of your gown - while he takes his card and signs the bill.  You’re still trying to process both that and the fact that he kissed you back when all of a sudden his mouth is pressed right against the curve of your ear.

He kisses it there and whispers, “How much longer until you have to go on stage?”

You strain to listen to what’s going on in the ballroom behind you but it’s so hard do so because now he’s fidgeting. His fingers are really feeling your skin under the strap of your dress, and you’re afraid he’s going to push it off.

Then, out of nowhere, his mouth dips towards your jaw to give you another kiss while he waits and… you’ve never been this discombobulated in your life. Somehow you manage to hear the presenter start his discussion section, which means another ten minutes of lecture before five minutes of questions.

“F-fifteen minutes,” you stutter out. 

“That’s enough time.” Jaehyun's brand new confidence is too fucking enticing, and now your brain is straight up the scrambled eggs that make him the egg salad sandwich or some ridiculous metaphor that you need his help with. When  you stare up at him in your dazed confusion, his laughter feels just like his kiss did, “You have such a big brain and can’t figure it out?”

You shake your head, and immediately after you do, his lips stitch yours closed in a tiny little smooch that reveals all his intentions.

He wants to kiss you that whole time? 

You want him to.

“We can’t,” you whisper. “Anyone can see.”

You see the wheels grinding in Jaehyun's head as he tries to come up with an excuse to undo your denial. What he settles on is gathering up his water and your champagne in one hand - please stop this madness!!!!!!!!! - to grab yours with the other. He pulls you off the stool and takes you with him on a journey that you’re not present enough to weigh the consequences of and it doesn’t take long for you to end up in the lobby entrance. No one can really see you here in this area, not the bartenders or the front desk workers, and you're hidden behind the spiky plant that was in his picture and a ridiculous stretch of hotel wallpaper. 

He fits you neatly into the corner, then stands in front of you, huge and looming with far too much heat. When your knees give out and make you fall over in your heels, you have to catch his arms to steady yourself, and you’re so shaky you whisper right to his now-popped shirt button, “What are you doing?” 

You graduated from Yale two times over. You know what he’s doing! You’re just an idiot!!!!!

His hand disentangles from yours so he can trace his fingertips up your arm and hold that delicateness of your neck again. Then he leans in all coy and cute, to murmur, “The rule is if you can see anyone, they can see you. Can they see you?”

You feel so girly and tiny compared to him as you shake your head no. He’s the only one you see, your vision is pure Jaehyun Jeong and nothing else…

Oh, yes, something else - his smirk, spread from his mouth across every inch of his face. Because he knows for a fact that no one can see. 

Then you’re just kissing with abandon, like people who have never kissed another before, like the touch of his lips is necessary for your continuing survival. Back when you kissed him at the bar you acted out of boldness yet were holding back at the same time - from the stubborn worry that he might not feel the same way. You thought he didn’t notice… or didn’t care.

But now that he has you the way he wants, Jaehyun presses his thumb in an upward stroke against your neck to make sure your face is tilted and open towards him, so he can have easy access to kiss you over and over again. The painted movements of his lips against yours are spineless and lazy yet coiled and tightly fitted to the point of insanity. You have to force it into your head that you’re not going to go any further than a few kisses because, because–, there’s no processing the end to that sentence.

You gasp in quiet shock when he gently bites at the corner of your lips, and when they fall open to gasp for oxygen in desperation, his tongue licks with determination into your mouth. He strokes the affection against your tongue and back across your lips to your cupid’s bow, and right over that spot he bit. With the drink glasses still in one hand, he uses the other to grab your chin and twist your head to the side, tongue snaking such a lust-fueled arc across your bottom lip. Your eyes close in indescribable bliss when he uses that new angle to his advantage and lavishes an extreme open-mouthed kiss against your cheek.

He licks the tiniest bloom where his kiss print is, then murmurs into your skin like he’s trying to imbue you with the rich hues of his voice, “I’ve had a fucking huge crush on you since the moment we met, I think you’re the most gorgeous creature ever.” His own distracted giggles send smitten vibrations pealing throughout your extremities, “Why’d I say creature? Don’t listen to me.”

You’d let him call you anything he wants, if you’re being honest. 

Though you don’t have words to tell him that at his moment, because you’re being consumed in the taste of his desires. He twists his head to kiss your mouth again, and shit. He’s so good at kissing you just let him do the work, you don’t even have to try. His mouth knows exactly what it’s doing, picks up on how the little kisses make you giggle, but the extended, exhilarating presses of his lips make the breath catch in your throat where he can feel it for himself.

You can’t believe it, you think you’re going to ride this high forever and you haven’t even had the champagne–, 

His mouth all of a sudden disappears and you’re ready to whine at how awful the loss of contact is... when you feel the tide of his smitten exhale detail itself against your neck. He marks a long, slow, aggravating kiss right against your carotid and your eyes slam shut as his nose then drags across the arc of your throat to leave a symmetrical kiss on the other side of your neck. Then this crushing, sucking sensation sinks from the hollow of your throat into the middle of your chest, as he licks straight to the middle there and marks your skin with such ardor the vessels start to bruise you completely when your gasp forces by. 

He teases out a little bite right there, and you’re so weak for him you just gasp again, “H-heart…. “

“Hmmmmm?” He hums out his need for a clarification while his lips move down your neck to your collarbone, to the spot he warmed up for himself with his hand. You can hear the delight in his breathing when you taste as sweet as you felt to him. The sensation of his teeth scraping by that delicate bone makes you melt into the prickled wallpaper.

“Heart…… hurts,” you whine, as the slightest movement causes a pure ache with all the lust he’s inducing.

You can’t figure why your body is betraying you. It’s not supposed to hurt like this unless you’re having a medical problem, which the lack of other symptoms say you are not. Though the erythema, the fucking blush you feel over every inch of your exposed skin? Hm. That could be something. 

You don’t have your stethoscope to check, so you just blindly grasp for Jaehyun’s hand. You find it tucked against your waist, then remove it and place it over your chest while warbling, “Why’s it like that, Jae?”

Maybe he knows.

He seems like the kind of person who’d use WebMD and figure it out.  

He squeezes the curve of your chest softly, knowing that wasn’t quite what you were asking about, then leans in to kiss your cheek and whisper, “That’s just your heartbeat, chickpea. It’s going so fast.”

Ah.

You’re not getting sick, you’re just smitten with him. 

You’re treated to the rare sight of Jaehyun getting all cocky and flirty - he sticks his tongue through his cheek in a display that has your nerves cauterized into white-hot desire, prior to his innocent suggestion, “Let me try to help.”

You nod, then realize you have no idea what you’re agreeing to. Before you can ask for him to specify, you’re sunk into another languid, gleaming kiss.

And then you feel his fingertips slip under the neckline of your dress.

They don’t go any further, but they flit around in delicate practice as he feels you all over, and now your breath is coming in little gasps. You can’t figure out where to focus, his lips on yours or his hands in your dress, and then you're caught in the web of him groaning straight into your mouth, “This is incredible.” The simple three words punctuate his hands grazing over your curves, and his lust-fueled gratitude makes his voice so deep you can barely handle it, “i’ve been waiting for this for so long, you have no idea. You’re fucking incredible.”

You become concerned in that moment that you may let him have sex with you right then and there. You’re concerned because you’re not ready to cross this line and you’re in public… but you’re more than ready to cross the line and he’s made this as private as possible.

Your dress is long enough, you could hide it–, 

Thunderous applause echoes from the ballroom and is quick to freeze you both into statues of alarm, forcing you to become acutely aware of what you’re doing. His hand is now fully grasping your breast, and somewhere in the midst of that his other hand became free to tangle and ruin your hair. You’ve been holding his bare waist under his shirt that you pulled up in the frenzy, his mouth is slick and shiny, and his hair is beyond messed up from the gel. If he looks like that, you know you look a thousand times worse.

Your lungs are shot into oblivion, and you’re genuinely frightened by the pace of your heart rate so y ou press a hand deep into your chest, hoping that transient cardiac massage will get it to calm down. You blankly stare up at where Jaehyun’s face should be, only to see this golden glow of light surrounding his beautiful outline.

You point a shaky finger back to the ballroom and stutter, “S-speech.”

He’s breathing heavy and his face is beet red and he can’t look you in the eye, especially when one of his hands takes an awkward dip into his pants so he can… so he can re-adjust himself.

God, what the fuck. 

Then, Jaehyun just hikes a thumb over his shoulder and whispers, “B-bus.”

You attempt a step forward and your shoe crunches on glass. The nice tile floor is littered with the broken pieces of the champagne glass and water cup, after Jaehyun lost control of them and didn’t care to keep them from falling while he was… ravishing you against the wall of this hotel. Mere minutes before you have to give a presentation in front of members of Congress. 

You let him kiss you. You nearly let him have sex with you! On a work trip!

You both stare at the mess, stare at each other for a second that feels as shattering as that scene, and then you fucking bolt. In opposite directions.

—

You give, hands down, the worst presentation of your life.

'The worst' in the sense that it’s incredible as every other one of your presentations, but you don’t have the capacity to think the entire time you’re speaking. You don’t make flubs or stutter - you know this because you're conscious enough of the audience to grasp that there are no egregious reactions or dramatic swoons. You can answer every question with scientific accuracy, shake every hand of every person that comes up to you afterwards.

But there’s is no ability whatsoever for you to gauge your chances at the job…. And you also just don’t care about the race for Surgeon General right now. Not when you have far more pressing issues.

You kissed Jaehyun–, 

No. 

You: A) made out with Jaehyun like a maniac, B) let him grope you all over, and C) almost had sex with him. And D), the big D), even though you’re stuck here telling yourself you weren’t ready for that, you didn’t want him to stop.

You also think you might’ve just ruined your friendship, though you can’t articulate why. 

—

Mania must be a side effect of whatever Jaehyun’s done to you, because for the entire hour you’re at National Airport before boarding the flight, you stand in the women’s bathroom. Travelers come and go, giving you weird looks as you hover by the paper towels with your suitcase, but you're not moving. That’s the only place you could hide if he just happened to be on the only flight back to Minneapolis from DC at this hour.

You wait until the last boarding group is called despite being in first class, then run on the flight and pretend you’re asleep as soon as you sit down. 

Because who knows what you would’ve done if you’d somehow seen him on the airplane home.

—

On the way home from Minneapolis-St. Paul, you get a page from the trauma on call that you’re needed for an emergency surgery - which means you have to be at the hospital in forty-five minutes.

You’ve already taken a red-eye through a thunderstorm, waited for almost an hour for your Uber home since the buses weren't running, and when you’re about fifty feet from the awning of your building, it starts pouring rain again. You scream and run for the door only find it locked because it’s after hours. Since Yuta is off-duty you spend another ten seconds getting soaked to the bone in brittle downpour while you find your keys.

So, okay.

You’re going to have to go home, drop your stuff off, shower, then not sleep and go right back to the hospital. That sounds horrific. 

Feeling the depression sink into your bones as you get off the elevator, you're trying to calculate if you even have time for a nap and don’t take time to notice your surroundings. A fatal mistake, because then you’re right there watching a soaked Jaehyun wearily press his head into the wood of his front door.

His eyes are closed and his knuckles are white where they’re gripped tight against the handle of his duffle. He’s still in that dress shirt you pulled out of his belt, still with the same number of buttons undone .You’re so frightened by the what if that you want to go to the hospital and remove the temptation from even being a possibility.

But before you’re able to safely go back to the elevator, Jaehyun chooses that moment to open his eyes from whatever he was doing. He turns over his shoulder, and there’s no way to avoid catching eyes because you’re… stupid.

He glances down at the scrubs that you changed into for the flight because you couldn’t spend another hour in regular people clothes, then says, all quiet and shy, “I'm glad you got home safe.”  

His dimple does its best to poke out, but his demeanor is far more subdued than it ever is. You’re having a hard time not running to the elevator, he’s having a hard time making more come out, and neither of you can look at each other. You can feel his mouth on you still, on your mouth and your neck and all the places it couldn’t get to. It's not anything you dreamt up, it was real.

And in the fleeting instances where he does manage to look at you, Jaehyun accidentally keeps looking at your mouth.

Not an accident.

His lips are so pretty and red right now they might put the cherry industry out of business. 

“Just got in about ten minutes ago, wanna shower and sleep before practice,” he explains for no reason other than to fill the silence with sound, “We have an optional today but no days off, you know?”

Neither of you laugh even though it’s a pretty good joke. If you see him smile, like full on - perfect and handsome - you’re going to be in trouble. 

You’re already in trouble though, when Jaehyun’s eyes dip down and up over your body in a once-over that makes you feel so hot. You try to unstick the scrub top from your aching chest when the corner of his mouth crooks with his wonder, “You look like you need a shower, too. Got caught in the rain?”

“Yeah, I have to before surgery." The idea of showering at the hospital sounded so dreary and depressing on the way here, but maybe those industrial showers with the shitty water pressure are the safest place for you to be right now.

You press your forehead into your hand out of pure stress, then decide to not be a baby and forgo the nice, hot shower at home to be somewhere where he’s not–,

Jaehyun is staring at your mouth again.

He’s staring, no, gaping, with his lips parted into a sneaky open space of reverence. From the way the rest of his face starts to line with stress, he’s grappling with something huge, something that’s stressing him out beyond belief. And from the way you can’t make out a steady rhythm at the pulse point on your wrist, you think you’re going to need to go to cardio to get your heart checked out.

Then he’s holding your hand. 

He didn’t do this back at the hotel, didn’t neatly cross-stitch his fingers through yours so that they couldn’t understand the word emptiness. Jaehyun holds your hand to keep you from leaving, crosses the threshold of the hallway’s defense and kisses your temple with the most ethereal brush of affection.

And he murmurs right against it, “Why don’t we go take that shower so you won’t be late.”

He leans all the way in and kisses your mouth again, like he’s so clearly been waiting to do. 

We. 

He wants you to shower together. You haven’t………….. You haven’t done anything yet. He’s never even seen you without clothes on.

Oh, goodness. 

You open your eyes from where they were closed from the surprise of the kiss, and see that the entire bridge of his nose is dusted in a galaxy of embarrassed, shy pink. 

You want to. 

You squeeze Jaehyun’s hand extra tight and stand up on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss of your own. He starts smiling while your lips are still on his, which means he knows what your answer is, so….. he grabs your luggage for you while you unlock the door and you go into your dark apartment together. You don’t turn on any of the lights when you’re dropping your stuff off, you think if you catch a glimpse of his face you’re going to freak out and change your mind. 

You’ve had the same opulent bathroom for years now (it was made to fit at least ten people inside of it, no, you've never understood why), y et it feels so suffocating when you’re in there with Jaehyun.

You're decidedly facing away from him and instead entertaining the view of your toilet while you’re stripping out of your travel scrubs. You’ve seen him without a shirt on so many times, but this is going to be different. No matter how much you hear him stumbling around and cursing at his socks to come off - what the fuck, please work with me here, sockies! (he’s cute) - you don’t know how to be naked in front of a person who looks like him.

He’s going to have to see you naked. Him. This person who looks like he was carved by the god who created human anatomy.

Before you can ask him to not look, you sneak an accidental glimpse of Jaehyun in the mirror and he’s…. he’s got his eyes closed.

His eyes are closed and you watch him fall out of his pants because he can’t see where he’s going. He keeps flopping and stumbling against the sink counter trying to get them off, and he smiles awkwardly to himself, speaking to a corner you’re nowhere near, “Can you get in first? I'm just… I'm a little shy, you know?”

Oh, no. You really like him. 

He’s gifted you the chance you wanted, so you strip off the rest of your clothes and huddle in the corner of the huge shower, turned to face as much of the marble tile as you can. That way he can see where you are… but not see everything. When the soft shuffle of his footsteps peal not long after, your nervousness swells with each approaching movement.

You feel a tender poke against your backside, and then he giggles right into your ear, “Cute butt, baby. But can you turn around for me?”

Your fingers grasp your own waist close, the freshness of your form and the new outlines of everything else has tied you up in knots, and you whisper, “I'm nervous.”

He said that to be nice, you’re sure. What if he sees you and he doesn’t like what he’s picked out for himself? He was with one person for forever and you certainly can’t live up to that standard—,

He lifts your chin with delicate determination, and over your shoulder he gives you a pristine promise of a kiss. Then he reaches to turn on the water and swears, “Not gonna look if you don’t want me to.”

Against the burn of your blushed blood vessels, the shower water douses you in cool alleviation. Yet that is nothing in comparison to Jaehyun's sweet, careful reassurance, so you plant these tiny blooms of courage to assist you and slowly turn around in your shower to meet him face-to-face. Despite his pinker than pink face, his eyes go nowhere but to the tender tip of your nose, then to the shampoo rack behind you.

You’re so overwhelmed and made no such promises to not ogle him, so when he leans in to grab the bottle, your eyes dart everywhere - the ripped and lithe outline of the muscles you’ve never seen before, his slim and muscular waist, legs and arms carved out into perfection, erogenous zones poised for enticement you can’t stoop to staring at yet—,

And your head goes mushy with the feel of way too much shampoo. His face is set in determination as he gets it all over the place, focusing hard so that his eyes don’t ever leave your face. Every time the water hits his nose, it wrinkles so cutely, and you cannot resist kissing the first wrinkle you spot - making him flinch in unraveling control as his gaze fights not to dip where your chest has brushed his.

“You can look,” you flirt right after, standing as close to him as possible so the curves of your bare body tangent some teasing against his.

“Nah, we’re on a time limit,” he breathes.

His hands run through your hair to tug with such sexy purpose, in contrast to the cute smile he gives you, and he does that just to pull you in and start kissing you again. It’s sloppier and hotter than it was at the conference, your mouths melding together with teasing pressure that builds into aimless affection, simply because you’re in the shower and this is as private as you can get. You don’t have to hurry.

He lets his tongue linger to brush by yours and doesn’t bother to close his mouth in half the kisses because just the taste of you is enough. You’re whining for more and squirming under the water’s spray, and out of nowhere his hands are holding you right at your hairline. It’s a strange little manner of going about this. You try to wriggle away, attempt to slip your fingers under his palms to hold his hands, and he just continues to hold you still.

Until you feel Jaehyun's fingers stroke back into your hair and realize he was doing that to… keep the soap out of your eyes.

Your heart hurts again, and you have to remind yourself it’s not a symptom of a real ailment. It’s the specific symptom of another.

With one hand still poised on your forehead, he twists your face and neck carefully so the still-tender side of your throat is exposed to the steady stream of water. The sensation of his tongue slipping to join the arcing droplets and mark you up is almost too much to handle. You try to give him some affection in return, but you’re so crushed under his body, his mouth, his hands, his everything, you can only let your fingers trail over his bare waist to hold him there.

Your hands crest over the muscled indent of his abs right above his hips, and when his mouth presses into the tender spot between your mouth and your neck, you sigh, “Shit, we need to put you in a textbook.”

Suddenly, his entire hand is around your waist and he’s snatching you close to the point that you can feel everything - the reciprocal goosebumps he induces in your skin, how aroused he already is without even trying too hard. He snags your mouth in bitten, terse, tense little kiss that fills your head with such mindless pleasure, and he growls, “Are you calling me dumb?”

“I’m calling you hot, country boy,” you murmur.  

Every single part and parcel of his muscles could be teased out under your touch here, perfect angles and strength sewn into one sweet body.

“I'm sure you’re hot too,” he laughs with his lips still pressed against yours, his eyes still closed, his hands still respectful. “You sure feel like it.”

“Just look and decide for yourself.” You reach up to take his hand off your forehead, because there’s no more shampoo suds, because you really just wanted to have your fingers linked together. You kiss his cheek before encouraging, “It’s okay.” 

The way he’s acted tonight? Jaehyun is such a special human, and you trust him way more than you’ve ever trusted any person you've shared this with. You've never wanted to have sex with anyone more.

In an elegant sweep of eyelashes, stuck closed out of respectful determination and the lulled drip of the shower water, he takes his sweet, sweet, time peeling his gaze apart. That gives you a moment or two to crowd into the tile behind you and hope that the steam affords you some haze of protection. T hen you don’t know why you’re scared, because when he sees you before him - bare and soapy and smitten in the way that he made you - his jaw drops.

“Jesus fucking Christ." His eyes are unsure where to look now that they have permission, zipping through a circuit track down and up about five different times before they snag up on the ceiling. He closes his eyes one last time and whines, “Sorry Jesus!”

What a good egg. You have nothing to be afraid of.

Or maybe you do.

Because the sweet boy who apologizes for his profanity disappears quicker than you can steal one last untainted breath of oxygen. Now, his eyes are as dark as his hair has stained under the water, and as his gaze latches right to your sternum he drawls, “But good god. I knew what I was saying in those goddamn text messages. You’re a level above anyone.”

If he thinks you’re a level above, what the hell does that make him?

“Do not judge me for doing this,” he warns you with a coy little look, prickling your skin at the vague prospect of whatever he wants to do. “But I think I have to.”

He reaches for the scentless soap you stole from the hospital, and you’re caught off guard for the barest of seconds, trying to figure out what he’s doing, before his hand slips right to your breasts. You’re glad you’re stuck against the wall because your legs almost give out. You have to catch yourself around his neck, press your forehead into his for a third point of contact.

He only uses one hand, perhaps finding it craven to use two, and traces out a masterpiece of his hidden lust for you across your pearled skin, what he’d teased for himself under your dress but gets all of now. His thumb sweeps from the arc of your collarbone straight past the pebbled skin in the middle, and then he presses it right into the underside of your cleavage, so they’re all perky and high for him. You watch, in complete lust-fueled fascination, as he bites his lip and then ducks to place a searing kiss straight to the blushed center of one.

Your stomach explodes into smitten swooping as his nose goes red and he immediately darts back up to kiss your mouth, too shy to do more than that. Though he doesn’t quite want to remove his hands yet, pretending he’s just washing you up instead of indulging himself.

“Oh, god, you feel so good,” he breathes into your hair, hand pressing directly into the space where your heart is longing right for him. “So, so good.” 

No. No, he should’ve never gone that route, you can already feel your head swelling with pride.

You’re so bad at this, though, so bad at making this good for someone you actually care about. You’re trying, you’re letting your fingers flit over his abs, and it’s kind of impossible for your thighs not to brush against the tension-filled front of his pelvis. But you can’t even close your mouth in a proper kiss, you’re so affected by how he can almost palm both your breasts in one hand, and how the breadth of his fingers from pinky to thumb is nearly the length of your belly. When you finally manage to latch your mouth onto his, you end up gasping right into it when his hand slips between your legs.

You clutch his shoulder blades since that’s the only anchor point your mind can recall, since he’s not going to have the fortitude to hold you up and you can tell. His eyes are closed in undeniable bliss as the pads of his fingers tease out a shy little path across the sodden skin that the shower hasn’t quite doused yet. It’s irritatingly good, the way he goes for it yet not. But you can’t make the words to explain that he needs to do more, because your lips are caught up in his, his tiny kisses and ragged breaths as his fingers press in deeper and still don’t do enough.

So, you can only lead by example to show him how you feel and reach blindly to grasp him in your hand. His harsh, heady groan as his head falls into your shoulder works some kind of magical wonder on your confidence. You’re not used to feeling this heaviness in your hand, it doesn’t quite fit since your hands are small in comparison, and you pretty much forget how to do this - your palm closes around the soft skin and gives a tentative, tentative, tentative stroke upwards.

Your shoulder erupts in a burst of pain, and you glance to see he's snagged your shoulder in a bite to keep under control, eyes screwed shut in overwhelming sensation.

This is worse for him than what he was doing to you, apparently. His hand escapes to close around yours while you’re still holding him, so that the tension of your palm crackles into full strength around him with no hesitation. He gives himself via you one strong stroke up and down, and you can feel his whole body jolt against yours. As the water shrouds both of you, he leans into your neck while he shows you what he likes out of practice - and you follow along with a specific fascination and piqued mind, to memorize the feel of this to do on your own (When????? When on earth are you doing to do this on your own????). Gentle at the top, a strong grip at the bottom, your thumb slipping across the—,

His hand is moves yours off of him in a panicked frenzy so that he can stop shaking in time, only for you to get tucked right back in his arms.

“We can have sex, yeah?” he murmurs against your neck, as his fingers meander back towards your thighs. “Wanna have sex with you so badly.”

You want to, too, but you’re still holding onto an insane amount of worry - for many numerous, indecipherable reasons.

“Would’ve fucked you in the hotel if I had the chance.”

Shit. What is he doing to you?

You can’t be this person, right, you can’t just fuck your neighbor once and be done with it. You don’t want this to only happen one time… and you don’t want it to just be a… a… a fucking.  

“I don’t know if I have time.” It’s a cop out answer. You don’t know if you can handle whatever this is going to change.

“I don’t know why you’re under the impression this is going to be anything but fast,” he chuckles sheepishly as he peeks up from giving your sternum one more pristine kiss, expression holding steady despite the blush. “But okay. We’ll just shower.”

It’s not only a shower, you’re both smart enough to know that.

You’ll just get through this insane burst of feelings and contemplate what the hell happened after.

You grasp his wrist delicately, placing his hand back in the space that feels empty without his touch, and let him return the favor. He presses the pads of his fingers right into the apex of nerves that immediately singe at his touch, but he doesn’t truly resume what you were engaged in before… He holds himself back, delicious and frustrating all at once. He really just wants to kiss you more.

He curls you into the cavern of his embrace and melds his mouth to yours, soft and sweet, like you’re on a date in public and not naked in your shower—,

And then it reverses so fast your head almost gets taken off by the whiplash. He moves to press your slick existence against the glass of the door and holds you there by the breadth of your back. You’re so fucking glad the mirror fogged over, so you can’t see any of this, how ragged you look, how domineering he is as his free hand travels up your spine along the antithesis path of how each water droplet spills. When you fumble for his other hand, he somehow grasps your wrist and holds it against the glass as well.

Feeling as if you’ve transformed into this little doll that bends to his whims and does whatever he wants, you arc back into him so he can press his hips right into yours, and-, Fuck! The second he presses a kiss to the middle of your spine, you see your phone there on the sink counter light up in a call.

Well, whoever is fucking calling is going to have to wait—,

His lips coat a harrowing path up the rest of your back to luxuriate in a kiss against the side of your neck. As his hand stretches across your chest to grab both your breasts again, there’s no mistaking his shocked noise as he sees you ignoring your work call.

“Chickpea, do not let me ruin your reputation.” Jaehyun lets go of everything but the corner of your hip, leaving you boneless and flopped against the glass. Then he lifts you up, presses his nose right into your temple - a surprise, sweet little gesture - before his mouth pokes a precious, tiny bloom to punctuate his demand, “Answer your phone.”

Um. Are you swooning?

Yes, your knees are crashed against the glass of the shower wall! Why did that make you swoon?!

He holds your waist with tender respect, doesn’t make a lewd noise or motion when you bend to get your phone, and is so quiet and good as you answer the page, “Hello?”

Jaehyun  doesn’t attempt to distract you in some lewd trope of enticement during the professional discussion, either. He just gives you one last kiss on your cheek and resumes washing the rest of your hair, detangling it and getting every sud washed away in the warm downpour.

“Hey, Doc D–, Dr. y/l/n, your surgery was postponed.” It’s Wendy, by the way, you nearly forgot you were on the phone.

“To when?" That is a very… very, very important clarification that you need right now.

“Another half hour before we can even start prep, we can’t find an open OR right now but we’re moving things around. Patient’s stable.” 

“Alright. Thanks for letting me know.”

Shit, shit. What do you do, what do you do? 

You know.

You put the phone back down on the sink. Without letting yourself think twice, your fingers slip open the first drawer underneath, and reach for an intimidating silver packet.

With your back turned - you need one final, private moment of courage - you say, “Surgery got moved back half an hour.”

Jaehyun makes this commiserating noise of support, and then the quiet bathroom splits with the crinkling noise of the object in your hand. Fuck.

You peek over your shoulder at him in shy worry and watch him get all confused, trying to figure out how that kind of noise came from the soap bubbles dusting his palms. Then you beckon him with a cute, smitten psst, and after showing him what you’re holding, you sigh in anticipated resignation this is going to happen, “So… you still gotta be quick.”

His eyes go as round as fresh Georgia peaches in his head.

“Again, nothing’s changed, baby, come here.” Though his deep voice comes out all confident and sexy, he looks so boyishly giddy at the prospect, hands clasped in front of him with his anxious anticipation.

You don’t think you’re ready for this.

As you tiptoe over (it finally registers to you how ridiculous it is you have a shower you can walk around in! shit!) he sits on the marble seat in the corner with his thighs all exposed. You black out for a second when he grasps himself and the veins in his hand pop out by the time you pass him the condom, and then you’re just…. pretending you’re interested in the wall so you don’t get overwhelmed at the sight of him putting it on as fast as he possibly can.

You’re twisted up in literal unbreakable knots as you watch the water drip to the floor in this… inappropriate metaphor you are too big-brained to let go of. Then a yelp escapes from your mouth when he scoops you up by your waist and sits you right on his thighs, skipping the awkward dance of asking where he wants you. You hold yourself up, because for some reason you don’t think you have the courage to go exactly where he wants.

You just bashfully clutch onto his shoulders as he stares up at you, streaked with water and so perfect, and hums, “Don’t want you to get hurt so you gotta sit on me.”

Oh!

Hm.

You scoff so lightly you don’t think your lungs even register the burn, because that is not him being altruistic and looking out for you. A specific conversation you were too shy to have looms in your mind, then you dot your nose against his and tease, “That must be your favorite, huh? You can’t fool me at all.” When he gets smirky in a way that both A) doesn’t vibe with his energy and B) is something you want him to do again, always, you just shift forward and… sit right on him.

He feels so good, shit, shit, shit. With all the imagery of you not fitting together as partners, you fit together this way so fucking well it melts your brain.

“A-a l-little warning next time?” he blows out, hands gripping your waist so hard you can feel the imminent bruises. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good.” He fights to adjust to the imminent feeling of total consumption, his hips twisting and bucking so he isn’t overwhelmed, overwhelming you in turn. He holds your face right to his, so you can see his agony and delight puttering along in the same shade, as he admits, “I think my reputation is about to go in the toilet. Boutta be twice as quick as you’re thinking.”

Ha. The fact that he admits it…. Too funny.

You have to hold in your laughter because his hips move and he collides with a spot inside you that feels so horrifically perfect you almost burst into tears. And, well, the marble does hurt your knees a little but only for a moment, when his fingers tug with the slightest bit of tension, your body rises to follow, and the downward stroke of him inside you is something that will never be replicated within your nervous system again. But then he sinks you back down without you needing to exert effort, then pulls you back up, and suddenly, he’s the one doing all the work. You’re just there riding him and holding his face still so that you can kiss him in return.

You bite at his pretty bottom lip for a moment, and his mouth parts, which means you brace yourself for some kind of serious sentiment to come out as this is a serious thing you’re doing. Then Jaehyun just… he lets out this tiny giggle. He starts laughing to himself - why, you don’t know, and you don’t have the fortitude to ask, but you’re pretty sure it’s in disbelief that this is happening.

And you feel the same.

It’s slippery and sloppy and not at all the pinnacle of sex but you’re feeling good. He’s going above and beyond, and you cannot deny you love how closely he dares to hold you, arms wrapped around your waist to where you can feel his fingers brush your belly. His wet bangs press into your forehead and the feel of his thighs under yours every time you sit on him all the way is literally unforgettable.

After you let out a particular, deep exhale that’s supposed to sound something like please don’t stop, he mumbles right into your cheek, “Am I supposed to dirty talk? Chickie, I can’t make words, is that a problem?”

Definitely not a medical issue.

“I think that means you like me,” you tease, the center of your ragged chest filling with sweet warmth at his hand.

His nose bridge dusts in sweet pink, a hue different from the exhaustion and the lust. He gets shy and giggly again with his genuine wonder, “How do you know?”

How do you know Jaehyun likes you?

Beyond the fact that he told you multiple times? And that you’ve already kissed more times than you can count? And right now you’re having messy shower sex? He is just too much sometimes.

You glance around the shower like you’re thinking hard, then sarcastically respond, “I have no idea, I just guessed.” 

Then you’re experiencing the most confusing set of events of your life - watching his face dip in such innocence, even as he’s moving inside of you like a madman, “I thought I was so obvious about it....” his words warble away like little birds and your face is broken apart in little streams of tension because you can feel him everywhere. You can’t keep up with how deep he’s going, you almost need to sit up in reverse so it’s not…. as much. He seriously thinks you had no idea, so he holds your face and says with much honesty, “You didn’t know? I told you!”

And then he somehow has the crazy idea to snap his hips up with such force you come close to blacking out with the crazed sensation that showers through every extended inch of your central nervous system. You have to clutch onto his hair and take a deep breath to control yourself enough to keep sane. 

“T-think about what we’re doing for a second,” you exhale against his mouth.

He looks down and sees himself disappearing inside you over and over again, then stares in your face - now slippery and blushy over him - to confirm, then the smirk is back. “Oh. Oh, yeahhhhhhhhh.” His words shiver across your lips as he kisses you in the middle of his cocky preening, and then he breathlessly confesses, “Wanted to do this for so long.” He gets all lazy then, leaning back so the new angle will stretch you both into oblivion, and then his tongue slips into your mouth with possessive delight... right before he realizes what he’s doing and switches tones, “Of course after I got to know you! I'm not–,”

“Shhhh, hahaha! I know you respect women!" You fill in the blank, knowing what kind of inane worry is about to take over Jaehyun's sweet brain.

Then he laughs at himself, and of course that starts the cycle of you laughing with him, because he looks so cute like that. You almost forget what you’re doing because you’re both just holding each other and giggling away like fools.

Until he reaches to move some of the hair out of your face and the sensation of him pushing inside you to a depth that can’t be understood seizes you back into reality. His lip catches between his teeth as he focuses on not losing control, then you steal it away from him as you lift up and sit back down so fast you rip another deep, pretty groan right from him.

Now you’re suddenly in charge because he can’t be. Your hands dip to hold the strength of his neck right where it meets his collarbone, and you move on him in a litany of different ways. A) the slow, teasing, agonizing way that you hate but makes him quake under you. B) the rapid-fire, consuming little strokes that he can’t handle, but you love since they rile up the collapsing galaxies in your vision.

But h e sits up and the shift is so delicious - you can feel it, for yourself and in his stuttered exhale - and then he’s gripping your hips so hard and taking over. He's moving you on him in a pace you can’t even describe, and then whispering right into your mouth, “Oh, you’re the fucking best thing of my lifesdfsf—,”

The rest of it falls out out of him in a stream of fumbling nonsense as he crashes up into you one last time and with this quieting gasp, just goes boneless under your existence.

His pretty eyes disappear under the sweep of his exhausted eyelids, a shy outline of pink halos all of his features, culminating the tiniest bit of red-purple by his cheek where your kiss was a little too much. The pride and bigheadedness that follow in you is something unmatched, and you are at the top of your field in a very grueling speciality.

Even though you didn’t finish, that was the best sex you’ve ever—,

You swear you didn’t say it out loud, but as soon as you think that, his eyes flash open in a moment of dark, heady realization. Then there’s nowhere to go because his iron grip is back around your waist and you have no choice but to look right in his intoxicating gaze like you’re literally struck dumb.

He holds you there for a moment, holds you there and does nothing. Even that has the fires still burning, the ones he fanned so high but couldn’t put out, and then—, despite the tension in him slowly slipping away, he’s still fit neatly inside you. The careful forward motion he gives somehow bypasses the burn and goes straight to scorching you up from the inside out.

He lavishes your mouth in a kiss that his tongue does all of the stroking in. In one practiced motion, his hand shifts to squeeze your curves and send the fire straight to an unsalvageable extent, then it disappears between your legs.

You’re caught off guard by how fast the feeling culminates.

One second you’re watching his wrist flex against your thigh, and the next second your vision is gone because the twisting stroke of his fingers against that slip of nerves is too, too, too fucking good. It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time, all that he needs is couple of languid, lazy thrusts because he can’t handle more, paired with his pretty fingers at that pretty spot. His handsome face blows out your vision with his look of utter determination, before your synapses expand and then break into nothingness. The broken little strands of feeling steal your senses, steal your consciousness, and taunt you with them before they're shoved back into place in a cresting whirlpool of too much sensation at once.

You gasp quietly and bury your face in his neck, collapsing against his form with the shower blowing at your back, your heart racing, and the general feeling of your body just as boneless as his was.

God damn.

He strokes your hair, over and over and over again, knotted and tangled and feeling like you need an actual second shower to fix it. Then he quietly teases into your ear, “You really thought I was just going to let you do that for me and not return the favor?”

No. No, you wouldn’t think that, at all.

Not that you can think in general. 

This is both unbelievable and unreal and you don’t know why you were holding back when you both were this interested in this happening for a decent amount of time. However, despite the exhaustion and the haze and the mindlessness of sex, you’re also startlingly sober - to the point that you feel as if this just crossed a whole bunch of lines. Lines you hadn’t even talked about or prepared for. You haven’t known each other for that long, your situations are still messed up—,

Wait, you can’t think about that now. You don’t want this ruined.

He slips out of you with a tender sigh, but still keeps your shivering little form on his lap. His fingers trace over where your leg is splayed over his and he mumbles in exhaustion, “That was fucking awesome. Sorry, I wish I had a more classier way of saying it, but damn. You’re good at everything, huh?” He gives you a lollipop burst of a kiss, pure sweetness laid in the middle of your mouth, right before he changes up again to flirt, “That felt like a challenge for me to do better next time.”

The prospect of this happening again is way too overwhelming to contemplate.

You kiss his mouth back in delicate affectation instead of saying anything and immediately feel the tension of his nervous system activating. Jaehyun's eyes quake for a moment when yours lock onto them, registering the moment of your hesitation and not immediate agreement. You don’t know what to think, you don't know what to do, this isn’t exactly the post-sex profession and cuddle moment you think he might’ve dreamt up while fantasizing about you.

“I have surgery and have to go. You should clean up, good thing you’re in the shower already.” You tap his nose in an iteration of the softest, shyest teasing ever, before you offer, “You can leave whenever you want.”

You give him one last kiss and you run out of the shower without a towel, awkward and stumbly, flustered beyond belief that you actually start getting into your sweats before you even bother to dry off.  You’re flustered because of a boy for what feels like for the first time in your life. And not… not a boy in your classes you were way too young for, not pining for an older colleague that couldn’t care less.

A boy who is a well-matched, even, reciprocated crush.

—

You get to the attendings locker room and your hands are shaking when you pull your stethoscope out of the scrubs you left them in.

You stick the earpieces in and press the drum right into the center of your chest, into skin that feels like it’s been ravaged into unfamiliarity. Just like you thought, the cadence of your pulse is so fast you can hardly keep count, let alone try to figure out what your blood pressure is. Though there's no need to calculate, you’re sure it’s through the roof.

None of this is good for your health, but you can’t get it to stop.

And you can’t bring yourself to be naked again, either. You do this legitimately impressive turn at choreography to get your sweatpants off and scrub pants on without getting a peek at your underwear in the mirror. Then you don’t even want to attempt changing shirts so you just put the scrub top over the long sleeve you’re already wearing.

What the hell is wrong with you.

You get to the OR ahead of time in the hopes that the sterile, silent scrub room will give you some peace of mind to review the case before you go in. The nurse will do it before you make the first cut, but your mind is barely clinging onto the details of medicine right now and you need to get your act together.

It’s not like you’ve lost it completely, though. You know exactly what you’re doing, you’re prepped and ready at the same pace as usual - you can somehow remember the lyrics to A Whole New World twice through for your scrub. But the soap keeps reminding you of the way Jaehyun kept the shampoo out of your eyes, and rubbing your hands and your arms down to maintain the standard of surgical cleanliness makes you think of…. of everything else.

So. Are you cursed now?

Because you’ve had sex, he’s now just a part of your brain? Is everything you do going to recall memories you share with him? Are you going to be reminded of this when you measure heart rates? Is every male patient going to be wearing his face from now on?!

Good god. 

Ningning walks in, happy and smiling in her butterfly scrub cap, and you’re grateful for once that she beat everyone else at rounds and had Moon assign her to assist you on this surgery. At least you won’t be alone with your thoughts anymore.

Though, it’s just fruitless for you to even try, because two seconds in and she brings up Sungchan and some cardiomyopathy clinical trial she read about. From then on, you’re listening but not really listening. Instead you’re thinking about how A) Sungchan’s favorite football player ever is the guy you just slept with, and B) now you really have no excuse to not have them meet.

That is, of course, unless sleeping with said man ruined your relationship forever. You have no idea what it did. 

You groan deeply at the dilemma manifesting into a headache, and rub the side of your neck with your shoulder, which hasn’t stopped aching after he kissed it with far too much delicate strength. When you glance over at Ningning to make sure you’re not blowing her off, you notice she’s gotten all freaked out and quiet, trying not to stare at you while she’s finishing her scrub. 

You groan for the second time and order, “Speak words, it’s too early in the morning for this.”

And your brain is still too mushy to figure out subliminal messages. Are you dating Jaehyun now? Is that what he wanted after sleeping with you? Is that what you just told him in reverse?

Ningning glances around the scrub room even though it’s tiny and obvious that it’s empty, and then she hurries to whisper at you, “Did you go to the conference like that?! Tell me your suit outfit was at least high necked!”

You’re so confused. What on earth is she talking about?

She makes a follow up, half-judgey comment about your conference attire (Seulgi helped you pick and you trusted her!) but you can’t hear it because you’re going through the airlock. You step into the OR together and you still don’t know what she’s babbling at you about... until the nurse approaches with your surgical gown and you manage to pick up on your intern’s desperate cry of Neck!

You peek to the mirror that is kept above the gurney for a better look at the surgical field, and the one and only thing in the surgical field of your existence that is visible is... a really fucking massive and undeniable plum-colored bruise on the side of your neck. 

No.

No, no.

That has never happened before. Never. You really just walked into a surgery with a hickey on your neck?!

“What did you do?!” Ningning hisses when you pass by her to take your place at the head of the table, as if she isn’t a twenty-six year old woman who’s lived life herself. She graduated from Cornell, she's smart. She can figure out what a bruise on your neck means when your hair has been nowhere in the vicinity of a curling iron!

What did you do indeed. Holy shit.

tbc.

Chapter Text

Hand to your heart, you’re scared shitless to go home.

You finished the surgery without further incident and ran out of there before Ningning could stop you because you couldn't even look at her. You had plans to rotate into whatever surgery you could find to avoid going back to your apartment and to avoid her scrubbing in with you. But Chief Kwon walked by as you were scrubbing to assist Dr. Do on a liver transplant and shouted you down in the middle of the surgical floor.

You now have orders, due to your insane traveling plus surgery schedule, to make sure that she does not see your face before Sunday - a full eight days from now. In front of your very eyes, elective surgeries were moved and the trauma attending on-call list was shuffled, and when you tried to protest she instructed your nurses to tattle on you if you broke the rules.

Which means you have nothing left to do but go into your apartment building and face the fact that you had very satisfying sex with your very hot neighbor and are now very, very, very confused. 

Nothing bad happens when you’re in the hallway - you’re half expecting Jaehyun to pop out of his home and tackle you like the football player he is - and the lights are still off in your place. Which makes you think, in a great sigh of relief, that he ran out of there like a chicken after what happened. But when you actually go inside, what becomes clear is that Jaehyun did no such thing. Instead, he’s slumped against the side of your bed, dead asleep in nothing but his underwear and a towel from your closet, a pen in his hand.

You tiptoe over to see what he possibly could’ve been doing before he fell asleep sitting on the floor, and you see he’s written a note out, or at least attempted to start one.

hihi

last night? this morning? whenever it was? was the best. i like you sooooooooooooooooooooo 

The o’s turn into curliecues and and then peter off into scribbles when he must’ve fallen asleep in the middle of writing it to you. He already wrote XO, JJ on the bottom of the post-it, which means he must’ve done that first.

Shit, he’s too fucking cute. 

No matter what changed in your friendship, nothing will change the fact that Jaehyun is still the cutest human being alive because he slept here all day without getting into the bed.

You go to his duffle he left - more like threw in his excitement, it’s halfway into your closet - and pull out a tee before you sit on the floor beside him. You’re almost upset you have to wake him up because he hasn’t roused once despite the noise, and you know how exhausted you were after you were through in the shower. It must've been ten times worse for him after sprinting for four hours in a game.

But you can tell by his goosebumps that he’s freezing and he’s going to get sick since his hair hasn’t even dried, so you have to.  You lean on the bed in the exact same way he is (how is he asleep?! this is so uncomfortable) and for a moment you drown in the view of the cutest freckle ever on his cheek, one that isn’t visible until you’re looking this close. And then you curl your fingers around his forearm.

Jaehyun is so tired his eyelids only slip apart in peace like he knew you would await him. He lets out a tiny yawn, then wonders, “Surgery went okay?”

“For me,” you answer with a tiny smile. “The guy had to have both his legs sawed off, though.”

If you’re being dramatic, you wanted to be the one asleep and getting your legs sawed off instead of awake in and in your head about every single thing possible. 

“You’re like a horror movie princsdjfcnvsdjf, ess, prince, princeahhhhh, princess,” Jaehyun yawns with his mouth curved in a smile if that's even possible and just makes up words with the syllables that come out. “Thanfskjdfjsdf... thank... thanks for coming back, though.”

Coming home from the hospital was the best thing you could’ve done.

Because he presses his palm right into your cheek in a stroke of utter tenderness, and then crosses the distance to kiss you again like he’s been waiting for. HIs mouth is chapped and warm and when your mouths meet, just the littlest bit of your bedsheet gets caught up in the corner of your lips. You’re happy to kiss him again, you’re happy nothing’s ruined.

The right, adult thing to do would be to talk first. But who cares about that. 

When he opens his mouth for a second kiss you just let it happen instead of starting a conversation, and when his fingers tease for your waist, you climb into his lap instead of staying apart. It's nicer to sit on him this way without the marble pressing into your knees, and easier to focus on his kisses without the water and soap everywhere. You just start making out again, a kind of insatiable longing that the past six hours didn’t soothe.

Your hands slip everywhere they can in a returning brand of desperation - his chest under the towel, the rigid outline of his ribs meeting his abs - only for you to get caught up in stillness again as his tongue licks the swell of your bottom lip. His hands scrunch up your top so that his thumb can have enough space to press into the underside of your breasts then they seem to be satisfied with that because he reaches to tangle them in your braids and hold you close. You’re swept into the rapidly-warming outline of his existence when he pulls you forward so that your hips align perfectly, and when an angry slip of tension presses between your legs… you don’t know, maybe you have more boundaries than you thought.  You sit up so that you’re not… sitting down... and you give his ear a little kiss of shyness because you suddenly can't look anymore.

He looks down at himself, trying to figure out what’s wrong, and when he spots what you felt through his boxers he mouths sorry right at you.

A huge load of worry drops from your shoulders and you tease Jaehyun quietly, “Someone forgot to put his clothes on, come on.”

One pull is enough to get him snuggling into your bed without complaint, looking like a little, sleepy angel on your solitary pillowcase, so happy to be off the floor. You dress him in a thermal longsleeve without a problem since he’s so pliantly compliant, and he already looks so much pinker and warmer even without the covers. You want to take a picture. You almost do.

You’re going to leave him there to resume his nap when his reflexes outpace yours, and he hugs you down onto him before you can escape. He cradles your head where you’re lying, to tease your mouth open for a hot kiss in the middle of your bed like he probably wanted last night to go and as you let his tongue lick into your mouth, you realize he's still... aroused. You were trying not to acknowledge it further but it’s right there, you can feel it, and every time your own legs move you can… feel how aroused you are in turn, and it's not just a coincidental write-off. 

He presses his mouth to that shiny bloom your intern spotted, and whines, “I was just trying to save timeeeeeeeeeeee.”

He keeps kissing you and kissing you and feeling you and feeling you, and your head is descending into straight mush (whatever that scientific term is.) Your clothes are half off already - scrub top pulled over your chest so he can bury his face in you, his fingers stuck in the waistband of your pants since your positioning makes it hard for them to come off - and he keeps gently tugging your hair so your face is right there for him to kiss. He’s so sleepy and perfect you’re just letting him do whatever he wants.

“For what...” It’s pointless to ask the rest of the question, you already know he means for next time you have sex. “Never mind. It’ll take me about ten seconds to get my clothes off, so don’t worry. And you don’t have to be naked for—,”

“You’re right. You let me do everything but taste you and I was really dying to,” he says it against your mouth with no regard, blatant and outright. 

You get so nervous your body goes crumbly-stiff in his grasp.

Why are you even nervous? You’ve done all of this before with a bunch of people, it’s nothing exclusive you were clinging on to and it doesn’t mean anything more than the sex you’ve already had. But him offering is pretty much the first time that’s ever happened to you. And you suppose doing this with a person that you… that you have feelings for, might be a differing experience.

You shake your head, pretending to be silly so it won’t cut so hard when you deny him, “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His profession disappears into the sweeping, romantic kiss he gives you, not at all matching the burgeoning lewdness of the moment. And then you’re looking at each other like this moment is something you want to cling on to, he’s holding you close and you’re blushing while he starts to get cocky again, “I told you I took it as a challenge. Honestly, what's better for you than this?”

Is Jaehyun seriously that much of a woman pleaser? This is taking his role as a feminist way too far. He is just ridiculous

“Okay, we can.”

You’re going to need to do a scientific study to figure out how those words come from your mouth and sound just like you but you don’t recall saying them one bit.

“I'm tired, can you come up here?” He tries to tug you up towards his face with one hand, and he is so transparent it’s almost funny that you can tell exactly what he wants. 

You pinch his chest and grumble, “You like it that way too, huh?”

He lets out a big, big yawn to try and prove his innocence without answering, as his hands finally have enough space to dip straight in your scrubs and stroke your hip, entice you into sitting up. You almost fall over with your shakiness in your attempt to get on your knees, so he ends up having to do all the work, cradling your waist and setting you upright, wasting no time in hooking his fingers into your waistband so he can pull all of your bottoms off of you. 

You step out of them and feel strangely good and cold despite still having two layers of shirts on. Then all of that dissipates into white-hot heat as his fingers trail up the back of your thigh to push you all the way forward alongside his order, “Come on.”

You have nowhere to go but where he wants you exactly. You kneel above him but hold yourself up on your bed frame for dear, dear life, knuckles already white with the effort you need to control yourself. Because you can see him down below there on your pillow, blonde hair a charming little halo, and none of that sweet image fits with what you’re about to do.

But he’s jokingly teasing you while looking everywhere in your room but at the tableau you’re presenting right above his vision, “Goddamn I can’t believe I'm not dreaming,” before he pulls a little crying face that makes you burst out laughing, which creaks the bed with your little shakes. He laughs to himself in satisfaction that he got you to loosen up, and this time, when he tweaks the inside of your thigh to beckon you to go ahead, your nerves dissipate.

You really just… do exactly what he wants.

His mouth has barely made contact between your legs in a sweeping, velvet press of exhilaration before he groans, “This is so fucking good. I swear I know more words but I cannot! Think of them!”

You can’t make words in response then either, because his lips moving across your slick skin there rip out your pleasure center and replant it somewhere you can’t fathom. And then he just shuts up - not because his vocabulary has gone out the window, but because his mouth is far too preoccupied with deciding to show off right then and there. It's almost scary, how good he is at it, he grasps your legs with a purpose and unfurls his mouth as if he was kissing yours in return, painting out the perfect pricks, marking in the lengthy, tormented blooms, snaking his tongue out for a taste that elicits another rough exhale from him that only heightens the sensation.  

You want to be a sexy siren or some kind of mythical goddess of seduction sitting above him. Instead you’re just a sloppy, overwhelmed little mute, trying to do everything possible to hang on and not unravel apart as quickly as you think it’s going to happen.

And it's not even, like.... aggressive, or rough, or any other over-the-top descriptor you’d expect.

It's delicate and measured, practiced with intentional design to make you and only you feel good - which seems impossible considering how much he wanted to do it for himself. His repertoire is vast, tiny licks and teasing pressure that are just enough to make your skin erupt in flames, a languid  tug of his mouth that leaves you no choice but to press your entire existence straight into his features and deal with the tension-filled consequences of his taut lips slipping absolutely everywhere. And you try to put effort in, you really do - you rock your hips with the flow of his motions, try to push down where he wants you, pull up when he needs a breath. But none of it is elegant, and almost all of it makes it feel so much worse (better).

Not to mention how overwhelming this is isn't just because of the physical act of what he's doing. It's the culmination of that plus all the other side effects, feeling his hand grip your thigh and trying its best to stay there despite everything else that’s offered up, his panting exhales painting the inside of your thigh when he needs that break. Your gaze twists backwards out of some impossible need to see what’s going on, and gives you the barest glimpse of his other hand slipping down his shorts and then you’re in the danger zone. Because now you've lost focus, you're no longer staring at the colorless bedroom wall in front of you, you're staring down and seeing how wickedly messed up his hair has gotten, how his eyes are slammed shut in concentrated lust. Then you're shocked into stillness watching his nose and mouth disappear between your thighs, it’s just a fucking lot for you to handle….

He’s really this dedicated to the female agenda.

Hilarious—,

Not hilarious, you’re about to laugh when his mouth presses deeply into the apex of your legs and bruises a kiss into a spot that he’s now claimed for himself. All outlines of rational thought leave your mind. His tongue darts out in a surprise slick of action, and your mind is so jumbled up the shape he traces doesn’t register in your mind until it’s far too late to pluck out the word heart. The edges of your vision crumble into onyx emptiness far too embarrassingly fast and a desperate attempt at holding onto your sanity ends with a breeze dancing untouched across your body's contours and then breaking you apart with a hurricane of force.

You hold yourself up on the headboard so hard you get splinters from the fine-polished, unbroken mahogany. Like, you literally rip the wood up.

And then your legs go liquified jelly to the point that you’re scared you might topple off the bed and break your head.

There's a crushing sensation around your thighs and you manage to pick up on muffled begging from somewhere in your vicinity, “Chickpea. Chickpea, please!," right before there's an urgent grab to the back of your legs and a cry, "Help! I don’t want to make you give me CPR even though I think I’d love it!”

And when you brave a glance down you realize you’ve nearly split Jaehyun’s head in two.

You fall down into the mattress away from him like a sack of potatoes, seeing bursting stars in your vision that might be a symptom of one thing or another that you can’t remember. Holy shit, you’ve never felt like this before ever in your life. What the fuck? Is he seriously that magical in bed that you’re hypnotized?

This is not a medical condition, this is full on delusions.

His face… his half-slick face.... comes into view when he peeks down at you since you can’t turn your head. Just because his expression is so happy and self-satisfied, you’re compelled to whisper, “Do you want me to…?”

You’d return the favor for sure. It’s something you usually hate doing because it is not only both A) clinical, and B) messy, it typically evolves the power dynamic in a relationship into something a bit gross that you could never tolerate. But you just know Jaehyun would be the one person on earth to find a way to make it a good experience for you. 

“No need....” Jaehyun mutters and his face disappears out of your vision. 

You roll your eyes because he does not have to white knight his way into blue balls, your neck cracks as you try to turn his way while grunting, “Okay, you don't have to be that obnoxiously pure, I know-,”

Before you can say I know you want me to, he just bursts out, “No need!” 

Through your slog of laziness, you finally get a glimpse of his face, and it isn’t just flushed red from the sex or plum from exertion, it’s doused pink in embarrassment. So you glance down and realize that... making you finish like that is all it took for him to finish.

You cover your mouth fast to try and prevent the smitten giggle from coming out and you fail hard. When he hears you laughing he shoves you away and whines, “Don’t look, don’t make fun of me!”

Cute.

You try to sit up to get a better glimpse of the proof of your power, and you make it about an inch before you get his playful hand shoving you back into the pillow and tickling your cheeks. To respect him - because if this happened to you, you know he would do the same - you keep your gaze tucked into the silk while you hear him stumble out of bed for a new pair of underwear.

And you just let the hazy memories of what happened float over you. How is this even a thing that happened? That: A) it was good sex, great sex, even, maybe spectacular sex if you’re not being a loser in denial, B) you want to do it again as soon as possible and he obviously wants to as well, and C) you’re sleepy and somehow haven’t kicked him out yet. 

You feel another tender poke into the curve of your bare butt, the exact same way as it happened in the night, yet no further touch comes. Only a quiet question, “Are you gonna lie there in your scrubs, or are you gonna change so you can go to bed?”

And the massive D) (lol - true to size) you’re in such a daze that you’re lying like a boneless sack of skin in your bed, feeling too lazy to do anything. You're never lazy!

“Second drawer out of ffffffffive on the right of the third cabinet,” you mumble through a sleepy yawn.

You changed Jaehyun earlier without complaints to keep him from sickness, he should have no problems facilitating the laziness that he induced.

Out of the darkening corner of your eye you watch Jaehyun stride confidently over to the massive stack of drawers that serves as your bedroom dresser and his face crumples in the most obvious what the fuck look you’ve ever seen.

Thinking you’re not looking, he bypasses your instructions to go back to his duffle for a massive pair of sweatpants and matching thermal tee with the Vikings logo so huge you can see it from here. He smiles to himself and shuffles back over to the bed, slips the pants on first thing - surely so he isn't tempted by any lingering bareness.

You muster the energy to lift your arms above your head so he can pull your shirts off, and almost laugh out loud when he snaps your bra with averted eyes. Why did he do that? He's seen it all?? Yet he accidentally-on-purpose puts his hands over your bare breasts when he’s got the sleep tee on and is trying to fit it into place??? You don’t begrudge him the tip for his service, though, the warm feel of his palms is too good anyways. 

But when he starts to get back up off the bed, your fingers catch at his wristbone before they reach and hold his hand. His thumb runs over the swell of your palm to get you to say something, and when you can’t because you're overtaken by another yawn, he laughs quietly, “I'm getting the sense you like to sleep alone.”

Jaehyun nods his head over to where there’s no second pillow on the bed. 

Oops. 

Like you said, you’re not used to this.

“Don’t wanna sleep alone." You're so fucking tired yet you try your best to give his arm a coy little tug - to what? Get him to sleep over? More than that, get him to sleep over in your bed, with you?  Wow, he… he really knew what he was doing if he got you to fold over on one of your harshest personal rules just like that.

But you don’t know if he stays, because you pass out before you recall literally anything else. 

—

There’s blood dripping down your elbows, hot rivulets of lava you can't pinpoint the source of.

You’re feeling all over in the chest cavity open in front of you and you can’t find the leak - you think you’ve touched every part of this person’s insides and they’re still bleeding. You’re soaked with it, soaked to the bone, your surgical gown is no longer blue it’s that steeped in maroon suffering. You can feel it on your skin through your gloves and there’s no one around to help you, you’ve looked desperately through this unfamiliar OR three fucking times. You can’t stop the bleeding and fix it at the same time, you're well aware of your limitations! You usually have help, where are the maggots?! 

The EKG starts to blare in your ears in a uniform, flatline tone and you give up on what you’re doing to start cardiac massage immediately.

You’re breathing so hard you think your lungs are being ripped out and you’re going to have to sew them back in when you’re done here. Your hand is squeezing the life-giving muscle with an intensity so fierce you don’t know how the heart hasn’t disintegrated in your grasp. You’re at a loss of what to do, you can feel the blood draining out of the patient ounce by ounce and you beg with all your might for them to live. They have to help you help them, otherwise they’re going to die on your table. 

You look up through the blood that is now dripping into your eyes, and see a head of honey blonde hair, a cute nose, a set of dimples, and–, 

“Ahhhhhhhh!” You wake up from the most ferocious nightmare your brain possibly could’ve conjured, screaming at the top of your lungs in legitimate agony.

You can’t even think of where you are or what happened. You were just…. You were at the hospital and you were doing a procedure on someone who was bleeding out. Someone who was bleeding out and dying, who had blonde hair and dimples….

“Whyarewescreamingwherestheparty?!”

Another unintelligible shout ricochets through your room and surprise attacks you into screaming again.

You hunch over your legs with your hands to your ears, willing the horrid echoing to go away before it drives you crazy.  You thought your lungs were going to rip out in that dream and now you can’t breathe. You can tell you're hyperventilating yet you can’t remember the techniques to calm it down or even what’s causing it in the first place. This is all so awful, your heart is trying to break through your chest wall like your spine is breaking through your back and you can’t. You can’t calm down, that was awful, that was so awful, he was dying on your table–, 

A burst of pressure lays itself upon your sternum, pure calmness that your frightened aura attaches itself to. You look down and see a hand pressed against your heart, then the panic and heavy breathing start to subside. You fight to control your inhales and exhales to make the hand fall and rise as evenly as possible. You’re confused, though, because you can feel both your hands fisted into the comforter and don’t know where this help is coming from. You glance behind you to see if it’s an angel that has snuck through that hole in your headboard… and then you see two soft divots on your pillow.

Like someone was sleeping there with you. 

You turn to your other side and Jaehyun is there with tears in his eyes and his steady hand on your heart, and he’s….. He’s okay.

You scramble to hold him for yourself, to feel his broad shoulders under you, to experience the pulse in his neck running with abandon like it usually does, to witness his arms jolt to life as they slip to hug you the way that you need. 

He presses a hand straight into your head so you’re tucked in his shoulder, and then wonders, “What’s going on, chickpea?”

You shake your head as the tears start to wet his shirt where they're getting stuck on your eyelashes. You can’t say it, because it feels like if you say it out loud it’s going to come true and that is so fucking crazy of you. You’re not superstitious at all, you swear, you’ve never once had a habit stick with you through your surgical career, despite every other surgeon in Mayo having their ticks. Minho always has to tap his elbow on the scrub room entryway, Chief Kwon herself can only listen to Mozart when she’s operating.

You’re not superstitious, you’re not. 

He gently pulls you away so he can brush your nose with his and give you the smallest, most soothing kiss possible. Through the shroud of tears you were about to bury him in - this person who was once a total stranger, now in your bed comforting you after he stirred up the most fearful sentiment possible - you find yourself gasping, “O-okay, I-I'll give you a chance.”

You would regret it if you never had the opportunity to find out what dating Jaehyun entailed. 

He doesn’t react in excitement, celebrate, or do anything you could’ve predicted he’d do after waiting patiently for so long. He just squishes your cheeks up in his hand so he can preside over you in worry, “What the hell happened in your dream?”

“You died in my OR,” you blurt. 

What the fuck.

You’ve never had a dream about work, let alone a dream like this, let alone a dream this awful. Not once since you started med school, treating patients, doing surgeries on your own, or running your department, it was always like you could turn that part of you off when you left the hospital. You work trauma, your patients die all the time, but that dream felt like it was your fault. Like you killed Jaehyun yourself.

“Do you want to date me in apology for killing me in your dream?” His laugh is gentle, matching how his thumb flits up to your eyelashes to wipe away the tears that keep trying to fall. 

“Y-yeah,” you sniffle, tearfully and pathetically….. and truthfully.

Having a dream about Jaehyun means you have feelings for him. Science says one can dream about random individuals, even ones you haven't even met, but you don’t. You just don't, they have to mean something to you.

“Oh, my sweetheart, Come here.” He hugs you to him again and you go limp in his arms like the babiest baby. While stroking your hair in the exact way that he knows you like, he chuckles again to keep the mood from being so fatalistic, “I’m alive and kicking, you don’t have to, it’s okay. I'm sorry you had that bad dream.”

He’s sorry? He really is an angel. 

“I want to. Because I like you.” You confess it to his steady yet rushed heartbeat, nose buried in the soft fabric of his tee. You like him, those are exactly what your feelings are and you cannot deny that anymore.

You like him and you want to try out being with him. 

Jaehyun shuts up and he looks down at you cradled in his chest with these round eyes doused in equal parts disbelief and hope. He didn’t take your returned affections seriously - even with the sex and the kissing and the banter - until now. Until you’ve said for yourself the same words he did to you, that you like him back. 

You realize he was bracing for the worst and you feel, in that moment, like you have to be brutally honest because of it.

“I don’t know what’s going on with Minho at all, I'm entirely confused there." You have to start with that, despite the nagging part of you convinced you should’ve just pulled the plug with him in the first place. But you can’t stop talking, your heart and your mind and your vocal cords are all under the same umbrella of anxiety, “He asked me to think about what I wanted out of our relationship and talk when he gets back from a case, but…” You hold Jaehyun’s gaze with as much solemn affection as you have in your heart for him, and you confess, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have feelings for you, and want to try and figure this out. I'm sorry, that’s all I can give you–,”

“I don’t care.”

“Jaehyun,” your little gasp comes on instinct, feeling obliged to warn him away from the decision he’s making without thinking. 

You knock heads with him by accident when you sit up to see that his confidence hasn’t wavered - not with his ridiculous statement, not with your attempt at denial.

How is that possible? There are so many strings still attached to this situation, and this whole time you’ve been trapped in their web, trying to find the best way to unravel them without choking him in return. You do not want Jaehyun to get hurt. As evidenced by the dream you just had, that’s the last possible thing that you’d ever want happening, you’d rather hurt yourself first. 

But Jaehyun, as his words demonstrated, does not find it a big deal.

He shrugs and pulls you in closer so you’re nose to nose when he doubles down for your reassurance, “As long as you're honest with me about what's going on, I don't care. If I'm the right person for you, I'm going to be able to prove it and you’re going to know. And it should be the same rice reverse.”

How has he been right about you and your feelings the whole time? It doesn’t matter who else is involved, if the strings attached to you are meant to tie to the ones attached to him - the strings that drew you into his heart in the first place - the knots that might form would be the unbreakable kind.

You’ll know when you know. 

“Vice versa,” you correct with a watery, shaky laugh.

“Vice versa,” Jaehyun repeats with precision, and then he swoops in to give your still-trembling mouth a peachy kiss of your finally requited affection. He glances over to the bedside table and pulls out a familiar piece of paper, then hands it over to you like it’s supposed to be a surprise. Pretending like you didn’t just read it hours before, you let him point it out so cutely, “I like you soooooo much! That’s what it says! Or… what it’s supposed to say!” 

You like him so much, too. 

You like him so much more than you ever thought was possible to like another human, since… no one has ever liked you this way.

“XO?” you wonder. 

You really need that right now. You need him, that’s all you need. 

“XO,” Jaehyun echoes. 

He hugs you impossibly close, your existence now melded into an offshoot of his as he pours his sturdy life right into reviving yours. You savor the feel of him and his steady heartbeat that is not dying in your hands, and then you give in and steal one more soft, soft, so soft kiss. 

XO. You’re now a team.

—

You can feel the bruxism start to set in from the endless amount of kissing you’ve been doing this morning. Not just this morning, frankly, it's been going on this whole week.

Not only did Jaehyun have a week off, he just happened to have this week off (football players are so lame - except for him. you never get a planned vacation!). And all of a sudden, you aren’t as mad with Chief Kwon for rearranging your schedule. If you still had your full plate of surgeries you wouldn’t be able to spend your entire morning watching the rain patter against your apartment window, sitting on your kitchen counter and making out with a hot boy as he attempts to make you biscuits for breakfast.

Jaehyun has been stuck on the dough mixing part for about fifteen minutes now because he cannot keep his tongue out of your mouth. At first he whined and tried to get you to stop kissing him because he was ‘trying something so fun and new with the biscies!’ but he gave up because he wanted to kiss you just as much… and well, things were forgotten.

He snags your bottom lip between his teeth for a kiss that’s so prickly and perfect you need another. Snaking his fingertips up the hem of his shorts you’re wearing, he dodges the kiss to wonder, “So, what are we going to do on our date today?”

Jaehyun also can’t stop calling everything you do together a date now, both A) on purpose, and B) to bother you. The way his dimples come out when he smiles at his own joke makes you want to indulge him every time, though. 

“We’re going to snuggle in bed and I'm going to have to work on cases.” Unfortunately, no surgeries doesn’t mean no work, you’re going to fall behind if you don’t take this opportunity to get ahead. You anticipate the pout, the protesting, because you did promise you were going to take this seriously and working instead of giving him attention is not the best way to do that.

But Jaehyun seems thrilled.

“OMG yesssssss! Then I can make all your meals in bed, I’ve always wanted to do that!,” he slides over in his socks to grab his phone and starts tapping away on it in excitement, “Let me order the little trays from Ikea!”

The little trays from Ikea?! Who thinks of that?!

You cover his phone with your hand to get him to stop, then you give him the kiss you'd wanted that leaves him all dazed and forgetful. Then you order him softly, “Don’t make someone go to Ikea in a thunderstorm. We’ll make do.”

He can serve you things on a plate like a normal human being, or if he really wants the experience, like…. A cookie tray or something. You do not need more clutter in this house, despite the fact that you know he is going to order them another day and just ‘surprise’ you with them. 

Jaehyun squeezes your leg and taunts, “You sound more and more like a southern wife every day.”

“Hey.” You snatch your leg away despite his iron grip, yet can’t help but laugh at the mental image of you as whatever a southern wife entails - certainly a lot more y'all in your vocabulary. “Don’t go wifing me up our first week dating.”

“Dr. and Mr. y/n….” Jaehyun teases, “Obviously I'm going to be the one to change my name. Duh.” 

He knows what he’s doing, that exact brand of flirting makes your heart go wild. 

He’s about to kiss you again when your phone starts ringing, so he gets a mouthful of your hair instead when you twist to check. You waffle a bit when you see Seulgi’s contact flashing - she tends not to message unless it’s something important, but you’re off this week, but it could be important, but you're on break… ugh.

You pick up the phone and grab Jaehyun's face at the same time, to indulge in another tongue-punctuated kiss as a pre-apology for the real one you have to give, “I’m sorry, I need to take this. Promise I'll be phone free for as much as I can, though.”

You’re trying, you really hope that he can see you are. You’ve never tried this hard for anyone. 

“I don’t care, you do whatever.” Jaehyun is not bothered at all that your work has to take precedence... because now he can finish the biscuits. Ha. 

He lifts you off the counter (he says it's so you don’t have to jump but it's really so he can give your butt a cute squeeze) and then sends you off into your bedroom, still littered with all of his stuff since he hasn’t gone home once since you confessed. You climb into your bed and grab the lone pillow - you both somehow adore sharing it - and let the peach-permeated sheets envelop you. 

And when you’re well and fully relaxed, you call Seulgi back. 

She starts talking as soon as it connects, “You must be swamped because of the storm but I'll cut to the chase. Mom came back with worse pain, did another scan and nothing. Another EKG and nothing. Sent off the blood work, but fully expecting it to be nothing.”

You’re glad you answered the call because you know this kind of thing would’ve eaten her up. 

“We are in the Great Lakes region, tell her to cut down on the cheese.” That kind of pain with no other symptoms? Nine times out of ten is heartburn that a patient just won’t accept is happening to them. But Seulgi lets out a frustrated sigh that tells you she already ruled that out and doesn’t appreciate the joke, so you backtrack, “Wait, show me the scans?”

She switches the call to a FaceTime and when the video connects the black-and-white CT film is shoved right in the camera so you have no choice but to look. It’s a fairly standard scan of what looks like a fairly standard heart - it's maybe a little undersized but she can’t give you the patient details. You search for any anomalies or imperfections, and though your focus isn’t on cardio, you’re pretty confident saying the only thing 'off' on this scan is an almost imperceptible shadow by the right ventricle. That just looks like background wash-out, though.

You point it out to her regardless, leave no stone unturned, “You think there’s a shadow by her RV?”

Seulgi’s head peeks around the film so she can double-check the same spot you’re looking at. “I thought so too, but I paged cardio and got a contrast CT and it went away. I'm monitoring it.”

She sounds so much like a clone of intern-you, trying to impress your residents, you almost forget that you’re on the phone with her and not listening to old recorded case files. 

“Damn, are you sure you’re OB/GYN still?” For someone who made a big fuss claiming she wasn’t a surgeon, Seulgi certainly is following up on a lot of surgical cases. 

“Let’s not talk about that and let’s talk about your boy situation!” Seulgi hard-swerves your question in an attempt to not get into something personal. You cannot lie and say that you aren’t a little excited about her potentially being interested in your field, but now is not the time to ponder that. Because she gives you the look, the quintessential look girls give each other when they have a feral need for gossip, and says pointedly, “Anyways! Why are you at home in pajamas?”

Um, since today is now the fifth day in a row this week you’ve spent about twelve hours lying in bed with no clothes on? 

The hot and heavy blush starts to weigh your cheeks down for the thousandth time since you said yes to him, and you let out this exhausted sigh, “You have no idea……”

“OMG, OMG, baby!!!” Jaehyun’s yelp of wonder gives away the answer before you’ve even started. He throws open your bedroom door and announces with the most delight you’ve ever heard a human express, “The biscuits!!!!! My trick worked!!!!!”

He’s not wearing anything but workout shorts and his little ruffled apron, but he holds out a cooking tray with the steaming biscuits, and they’re all…. They’re all heart shaped. He put little balls of aluminum foil in at the top so they baked into the shape you’re convinced he sees in everything.

He smiles at you with pride and warbles, “Sorry, I know you’re on the phone! Just wanted to show you!”

He’s about to turn around and leave when the smitten crushing returns, making you shyly hold out a hand and beckon, “Come here.”

He runs over without needing to be asked twice, snags his hand into yours and kisses you full on the mouth, not caring that half your hair gets stuck in between your lips. He unlaces your fingers to wipe it all away, and then kisses you properly before he stuffs a biscuit in your mouth that A) nearly burns your lips off, and B) sends you to heaven for how good the mere lick of it is.

It’s so greasy. He knows you well.

You take the biscuit out of your mouth so you can kiss Jaehyun again, and he tastes like butter and pure happiness when you press your mouth as deeply into his as it can go. You kiss his tongue just the littlest bit when it snakes out–,

An audible choking noise splits you apart faster than Jaehyun can remove his hand from under your shirt, straight from the phone you dropped when you stared making out. Now Seulgi has witnessed that entire scene and is stuttering in nervousness on the call, mouth and eyes open the same amount. 

Before you can do anything or feel embarrassed, Jaehyun snatches up the phone and waves with his friendliest smile, “Hihi, I'm Jaehyun! You’re just as pretty as you were in your pictures!” He recognizes Seulgi from that disastrous attempt with Bumble BFF, and you can see the moment her pale face starts to turn as crimson as her scrubs. He holds up his baking tray so she can have a visual and explains, “I made biscuits that look like hearts!” 

Seulgi is blushing so hard, you’ve never seen her this caught off guard and flustered, to the point that she can only muster up a, “Cool!,” in response. 

He has that effect on everyone. No a single person is immune.

See - he grabs your chin to smooch you and you immediately go all smitten and still when he orders, “Eat your biscuit, you’ll get more." The Jaehyun Effect seriously needs to be studied or something, because WOW. 

You just nod, feeling like your head is floating on a cloud, and  start stuffing biscuit pieces into your mouth in obedience as he sashays away through your door…. and makes sure to close it. 

Ugh! He’s perfect. 

You look back down to the phone as slowly as you can, feeling smitten and sheepish that you were exposed by your… by your boyf… by Jaehyun, and watch again as Seulgi’s mouth falls open. You pick up the phone just as she points a finger to where he was and gasps, “You were having second thoughts…. About that?!,” before she shouts out of nowhere, “About that?!?!?!?! He looks like he was carved by Michelangelo!” 

“Shush!” you hiss.

She can’t give away your internal thoughts to him that easily!

It’s not like you don’t know that on top of being so funny and cute-charming Jaehyun is easily the hottest person alive. This morning you woke up before him and you, like… stared at his perfect, sleeping face for a long time, specifically at his teeny little eyelashes fluttering with each breath he took. It was creepy but you couldn’t stop. And you gave yourself a pass when you remembered he does it to you and you pretend to be asleep when he does.

“He knows he’s hot!” Seulgi says it at an ear-splitting decibel on purpose, cupping her hands over her mouth so her response echoes before you turn your volume down, “Not to mention being shirtless and cooking you breakfast?! You’re literally a crazy person!” You have no response to that other than covering your face and nodding, and it’s a good thing you do because you're hit with embarrassment when Seulgi finally lowers her voice, “Did you guys have sex yet? How was it.”

You don’t even know how to respond to her, since you know in her mind she's assumed that you knocked the deed out of the park once and that was it. It was good, done and dusted, enough for you to want to try it again. And, um, you haven’t done it “only once,” you think you’ve spent more time having sex than talking to one another this past week. 

Seulgi spots your face go warped with bashfulness and she yelps out loud - way, way, way too loud, “Oh my god! He does eat cat!”

“Shut upppp!” you scream into the phone and then mute her so you can flop around in the sheets. 

He does.

He continues to insist upon it, in fact. And every time has somehow improved, even though your first experience was already the best of your life. 

She knocks her head on the wall in frustrated jealousy, and you race to turn the volume up to be smug over something that for once won't end in her outright embarrassing you, “Not even my boyfriend… I have to ask him! You better explore this new guy to the fullest. And I mean fullest!”

Too late on the embarrassment thing. You really didn’t need to see the hand gesture she makes to punctuate her comment.

“You’re saying that just because he’s hot and is good in bed,” you scoff. 

Seulgi rolls her eyes and corrects, “Because he seems to match you in some weird way that made sense in the two seconds I saw.”

A little pitter of delight dances over the surface of your heart Jaehyun has already left a mark on. You’ve never thought that you and Jaehyun match in any kind of way, but for an outsider to see it? Maybe there’s more to build on hete than you thought.

“And like, imagine going home and getting to turn your brain off to just be cherished by your hot boyfriend? Incredible. Chef’s kiss, nothing better." She's right, this week has been pretty nice.

But as soon as you open your mouth to respond, this strange coolness rushes in, to try and decimate all the warmth he’s generated. You objectively know you should agree with Seulgi on the points she’s brought up, yet you don’t know why this worry is continuing to gnaw at you.

The minute the frown dips onto your face, Seulgi asks after it, “What’s the issue?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

Too good to be true as the phrase to describe your new relationship feels like an insult on both of your parts, but it also feels like the most appropriate phrase to describe the situation. 

“Has your hot attending contacted you since he left?” When you shake your head (you haven’t even thought about him), Seulgi lets out a barking laugh and points a sly finger of warning your way, “No? Then fuck him. And I do not mean literally.”

Ew. 

You would not do that again… it doesn’t compare. 

“It’s not even that. I'm scared we’re a little too different, if you get what I'm saying,” you blurt the thought as soon as it materializes in your head - you do not want to lose this opportunity to pick apart your worries before they become real.  

You’re scared that one day what you can give Jaehyun is not going to be enough. That your career is going to take precedence and he’s going to resent you for it. That he’s going to realize the kind of woman he wants to be with and the kind of woman you are do not overlap… beyond being a woman. And you know you’ve only been dating for a week and haven’t even begun to approach the talk of where this is going, but these worries were there before you kissed him at the conference. They haven’t been placated. 

“He already knows and I'm sure you made your lifestyle quite clear to him,” she harrumphs, well aware of the disclaimers a person in your profession has to give to a significant other outside of the field. “He decided to like you anyways. You passed med school, do the math.”

With a frustrated shake of her films in the camera to get you to get your head in the game, Seulgi hangs up.

You stuff your biscuit in your mouth in frustration, then through the muffling crumbs, call at the top of your lungs, “Jaehyun!”

The door flies open in less than five seconds. You count.

Jaehyun bursts into your room like he was called upon to sprint by his coach, then little bursts of panic start to spring up in him as he hones in on you with his confection in your mouth (phrasing!), “What! What! What’s wrong with the biscuits!”

“Nothing." You quickly descend into the same corner of being quiet and shy whenever you are forced to do something like this, “Just wanted to say…. I like you more than yesterday.”

Seulgi is clearly the smart one in your friendship, because Jaehyun has known from the start A) what your career demands of you, and B) what you demand of yourself because of your career. He fell for you anyways. You’re imagining the worst case scenario for no reason, and you’re going to make a promise to yourself that you’ll never let that come to fruition.

Jaehyun melts against the door, his head flopping back in elation when the feelings hit him hard and make him go, “Awwwww,” out loud. You bury your face in your hands when the shyness becomes too much, watch through your fingers when he does a little dance of victory in his socks. He twirls around and announces at the top of his lungs, “I'm so happy!”

You know. You are too.

You spend the rest of the day together doing nothing but kissing and talking about nonsense - true to his word, he serves you all three meals in bed - and it feels like, from that point on, that the two of you become inseparable.

—

Seriously, inseparable.

Every meal is shared together, every movie night is started and stopped based on your schedule, every… shower is taken at the same time 'to save water.' Your schedules are so different that they somehow line up in the opposite, days when you get home just as he’s about to leave, you manage to at least brush your teeth together and exchange kisses. Days when you're leaving just as he's coming home you make peace with being late on, so you can sit on his lap in the living room and ask him about his day. 

The only thing you don’t like about dating Jaehyun is that he stops leaving you random snacks because he prefers cooking for you instead. Surprises like that used to be what you were looking forward to the most when you had a shitty shift at work, but you also can’t complain…. it feels so much better to have him waiting in your bed instead. 

And as for the away games that just have to happen even though you now find yourself whining at him not to go? (You? A whiner? You’re not a whiner!)

Jaehyun sends you flowers every time - roses, daisies, sunflowers, whatever the corner market happens to have after he makes an apparent deal with the owner to keep them coming for you.... and he also sends a bouquet of whatever shitty, well-known food is signature to the city he’s in. One week it’s a avalanche of beignets from New Orleans, you get deep-dish pizza on a stick when he’s in Chicago, and funnily enough, he manages to get a cafe to send you a bouquet of clam chowder in bread-bowl shooters when he goes to Boston to play the Patriots. 

He is just… he is everything you could’ve asked for, and everything you didn’t know you wanted.

tbc. 

Chapter Text

[11:47 am] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): hihi!

Yes, the contact has updated. Yes, you don’t understand why. Yes, you let him do it anyways because it made him (and you by proxy) so happy. 

[11:48 am] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): just landed!!!! can’t wait 2 see u chickie!
[11:50 am] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxxxxxxxxxxxx 

That trail of x’s. Ha. He is not a sly man.

You see the interns coming the opposite way as you’re headed towards lunch - you smile and wave at them, while thinking of a message to send to Jaehyun that would convey even half of his enthusiasm. But you end up stuck on how Jeno’s face crumples in confusion when you’re nice without bringing up work, so… sigh. You’ll do this teaching thing, since you don’t have any surgeries for the next few hours.

You flag the trio of them down and suggest, “Why don’t we have lunch and discuss any new ideas for the case?”

Jaemin, Jeno, and Ningning look at each other like they can’t believe they didn’t have to pester you for an invite. Jaemin ends up yelling in the middle of the hallway he's so excited, “Yes! Yes of–,”

“Doctor, you have a walk-in consult in the ER,”  Wendy interrupts your conversation. She's here to flag you down in person, a sign that this is important otherwise she'd just page you. “No idea who, but resident on-call said they asked for you by name. Seemed important. Trauma two downstairs.” 

You shoot an apologetic look to the interns, hoping they know you'll try your best to make up for this. Then you have to go - somebody asking for you by name means it could be any one of your extensive list of VIPs and that means you' re going to have to squeeze them in, no questions asked. Fine, okay, nothing better than a bloody, important surgery on your first day back. As long as your VIP isn’t a thirty-year-old man who smells like sunshine. That dream has stuck around a little too long for your liking. 

[11:57 am] you: Can’t wait to see you either, my country boy.
[11:57 am] you: XOX

Sending an entire line of x’s and o’s isn’t your style but you’ll throw in the extra X just in case. 

You get to the patient bay of the ER and take the case file from the nurse, but don’t bother looking at it. You’ve had your VIP files memorized upon their first visits, and half the time these followup appointments happen because they’re too rich and paranoid to go get a bandaid at urgent care.

Rolling your eyes to yourself in your last second of peace, you knock on the door and announce, “Hello? This is Dr. y/l/n.”

As soon as you’re inside the room you’re tackled into the door which is then locked right in front of you while you're still caught half-screaming in surprise. You’re about two seconds away from freaking out and going for the disposable scalpel you always keep in your scrub pocket when you hear the sweetest little, OMG I forgot to turn football mode off! The tackle loosens and you get a bunch of kisses on your cheeks, and though you should be able to tell, you just have to peek to make sure… yes, there in the exam room is Jaehyun, wearing his jacket and the nice gray travel suit that you had pressed by your cleaners.

Jaehyun’s here, in your hospital. He’s here!

He almost got stabbed because he surprised you!

“What are you doing here!” Your mind is trying and failing to not get worked up about him being in this exam room. Where sick patients usually are.

“Dr. y/l/n, it’s Nurse Cho with your expedited blood test results!”

You back against the door when the ER nurse raps her fingers against the wood and attempts to turn the handle since she’s used to doing that. You and Jaehyun glance at each other in a panic, not expecting that you’d be caught like this. You have to hold it together to respond to her in the usual unemotional tone, “Thank you, I'll get them later!” You hold out a hand to keep Jaehyun silent until you’re sure she’s out of range, then hiss, “You let them take blood?!”

“I made an appointment to see you and that’s part of it!” Jaehyun is unfazed, he rolls up his blazer sleeve and shows you the neat square of gauze covering his… oddly attractive arm vein. “I’ve been taking all my vitamins, so it should look really good!”

He is so ridiculous, how does he even come up with these schemes!  

You open up his file (a file that they created in the system just so he could surprise you, ridiculous!) and you see that he requested an entire blood panel! Why?! Just to throw the nurse off her game?! Because he was genuinely interested in his circulatory health?! You do the mental math of what this must cost and yelp, “Jaehyun, they’re going to charge you for that! And they’re going to charge you for scheduling me as an emergency!”

There’s a reason why you have a VIP client list and it is not because you give them a discount code for your service! He cannot go around ordering expensive tests when you live less than a five minute walk away from this place!

“Isn’t that what insurance is for? I’m lucky I have good insurance,” he says with a shrug, looking at all of this with such an innocent air it makes you happy. He shrugs a second time then holds his arms out and announces, “I had to see you!”

You suppose there are worse things to complain about than a man who spent over a thousand dollars just to surprise you. 

Leaning in to kiss his mouth, you murmur, “I appreciate the surprise, cutie,” before you tug his ear and get him to giggle, so that he’s in a good mood when you give him the lightest scolding possible, “but I was going to see you at home! I only have one more surgery today, and it’s just taking out an appendix!”

“But I watched something fun in a medical documentary on my way home and we can’t try that at home.” Jaehyun’s mouth goes from the broadest smile to this secretive, flirty little frown… and you have no idea what 'something fun he watched in a medical documentary' could be. Not a lot about your job could be characterized as fun, not to mention there’s a lot of potential for misinterpretation–, “We have sex in this room.”

There’s no misinterpretation here.

He kisses your neck with precise, lascivious intention, broad hands holding you still so that you have no choice but to be swallowed whole by the sight of him in his suit and how good he smells. You missed him. You honestly consider doing it. There’s no windows in this exam room, no one will come by now that you’ve sent the nurse away. That particular bed inclines at an angle that feels so good to sleep on - don’t ask - so it must feel even better to have sex on. 

But you think about how he fucks you when you’re at home, after the first time he was determined to make it nothing but slow and drawn out, and that kind of pace is both fantastic… yet lends itself to such sweaty and grindy and sticky situations. You picture doing the exact same thing here, and all you can think is gross…

With a full on shudder of disgust after remembering you once pulled a watermelon rind out of someone’s leg here, you deny, “No. Actual patients have to be seen here, silly!”

“Doctors do it in here all the time, don’t they?" Jaehyun glances around the room, not having any of the same thoughts you do about the cleanliness of this space. You have no idea how he could’ve gotten this information and idea from a medical documentary? You’ve seen like, every one ever made - the good ones, the bad ones, the ones that are not even scientifically accurate, the dramatic ones for Netflix…. 

“Waaaaaait.” You glance at him with a suspicious eye when the thought hits you. There probably weren’t any medical documentaries on the team plane TVs and he must’ve had to fill the time with whatever was available on Netflix. "Were you watching Grey’s Anatomy?”

“Yes!” Jaehyun throws a fist in the air at you guessing his 'documentary' correctly, then asks with legitimate curiosity, “Do you know her?”

Meredith Grey from Grey’s Anatomy? 

(Yes, you binged it, you couldn’t help it. You accepted the medical inaccuracies because Patrick Dempsey is hot.)

Your gasping laugh transforms into a fake cough the second it dares escape your lips. You can’t laugh at him for this but, LOL. You don’t understand how his innocent behavior continues to be so charming and attractive, but that’s a side effect of dating him apparently.  You pinch his cheek and giggle, “That is a dramatic, sexual, not-at-all true TV show!”

But he watched a TV show just to: A) try and relate to you, B) surprise you, and C) give you a special, sexy moment, all of which is… oddly romantic in his own way. Today is just another bullet on the list of things he’s done for you that you don’t deserve.

“Okay, rude.” Jaehyun points a sassy little finger at you as he tries his best to not get personal and then promptly does so, “I doubt that. You definitely had sex at work, I’d see you with sex hair all the time!”

Your cheeks and chest go red-hot as soon as he says it. There were days where you’d spend the entire night in the on-call room then drag yourself home and not bother to do your hair because you were just going to shower and get some real sleep. And Jaehyun…. He saw that?! Yikes!

“They don’t have sex in patient rooms on that show.” You deny it and watch his lip stick out in a pout, right before you dig a screw of seduction right in, “They have sex in on-call rooms, which we have a ton of.”

On-call rooms are used for some very wild activities, but there’s a dedicated cleaning staff that makes sure the turnover there is as pristine as possible. And you have the first pick of every trauma on-call room - including the ones that have the nice beds, not just the shitty cots or relying on the couch in your office. 

The pretty, usually G-rated amber that makes up the outline of Jaehyun’s irises starts to disappear bit by bit as his pupils expand with enticement. You flip the hood of his jacket up so his face is covered completely except for his mouth, left exposed for the kind of kiss he likes best - teasing and lingering with the slightest hint of tongue.

Then you turn and unlock the door, pull it open a crack to shout for Nurse Cho, “I'm going to have to bring the patient upstairs! I'll take the bloodwork in my office, thank you!”

You watch her wave in acknowledgement and disappear up the stairs to start taking the results to the seventh floor, then you quickly step out of the exam room and beckon Jaehyun to follow you. He marches like a soldier in the hallways - legs stiff and straight, arms not moving - because he’s not sure what to do in order to not get caught.

You feel weirdly light and airy watching him try to be so careful on your behalf, while nobody notices him in return since he’s all covered up. You give the interns a slight wave when you happen to cross paths, and they don’t even see him they’re too preoccupied trying to get your attention for lunch. But you just keep walking to ensure Jaehyun keeps walking. You turn into the restricted hallway that leads out from the ER and bring him into the first door that you have the keypad code to.

It’s not much, just a room with one tiny twin bed, a couch, and a table.

But to Jaehyun, who does a full spin with his face scrunched in awe, it must be the greatest thing ever. “OMG, this looks familiar! Derek and Meredith were–,"

You lean and kiss him before he can say one more ludicrous thing about fake doctor Meredith Grey, and then you hug yourself to him in a way that you’ve grown to adore.  You put your chin on his chest to stare up at him and warble, “Hi. Hihihi. I missed you so much.”

He warned you when he left, Just so you know, I think you’re really going to be missin’ me, using that cute southern twang that sometimes slips out. You nodded and went along with it despite thinking he was being outlandish. But it took less than an hour for the cruel reality to sink in, when you went to text him during a break between patients to see what he wanted for dinner and realized you’d be eating by yourself. 

“I missed you more,” he breathes - which you totally believe, he probably held his pillow and teared up while thinking of you.

He leans in to snag another kiss, and another and another and another, making up for all the kisses he didn’t get while he was gone to Denver. His hands slip up your scrub top to palm at your bare back, and when you sigh in bliss, he lowers his mouth to the juncture of your jaw and your neck to give you a recurring tattoo of his built-up affection. Then he provokes you with a loaded order of his own, “Admit that I had the right idea coming here.”

His arm has slipped all the way around your torso so that you’re snug in his arms and his fingertips can brush the underside of your cleavage through your sports bra, and all rational arguments go out of your head…. except for one. 

You huff and that turns into a sweet exhale when his fingers broach under the fabric, “I'm not waiving your insurance fee–,” 

But he kisses you to get you to be quiet, and you just shut yourself up. You have better things to do than argue. 

—

You’ve lost track of the time you’ve just been kissing like this.

Your clothes are still off, he’s still halfway inside you, your heads cradled on the same pillow because you’re too used to sleeping this way at home. He’s got your face cradled in the palms of his hands like you're the most precious and delicate thing here in this hospital. Each of his kisses are bestowed upon you in the same way, outlined, melted presses of his lips–, 

“Weren’t we supposed to have lunch with Doc D?” Jaemin’s unmistakable voice echoes through the closed (and locked after a triple check!) door.

Both you and Jaehyun flinch so hard and the cacophony of surprise transforms into a groan of pleasured pain from him when your body clenches around his. But he doesn’t move to slip out or let go of your waist, he just helps you sit up to hear what’s going on... only for you to realize that gives him better access to dot a bunch of silly kisses across your chest. 

Someone shuffles through papers, ah, that's Ningning going through her notebook’s schedule, right before Jeno speaks over her answer, “I saw her go into the on-call room with someone? Maybe? Some weirdo walking like a llama with their hood up.”

You wish you were in any other situation other than naked with a thin door separating you from the interns, because you would’ve been hollering in laughter otherwise. A llama?! 

“No….” Jaemin and Ningning shoot Jeno down at the same time, before she, in particular, warns her colleague with a short note of scolding, “It’s Doc Doom. Of course not.”

At least your frozen, solitary reputation lent itself to one good thing. Yet you think of the way your intern absolutely saw the hickey on your neck and wonder why she felt compelled to lie for you just then, it's not like you asked her to or anything. 

“Are they talking about us?” Jaehyun whisper-wonders, nuzzling his head into the side of your arm to get you to pay attention to him. You giggle softly and nod and he gets all mad, “I did not! walk like a llama!”

“Of course you didn’t, country boy,” you go along with it, even though he did. 

He is so satisfied by that that he shifts you back into the bed and begins kissing you again and well, your clothes were already off. You get a good nap in after you finish the second time, cuddled so peacefully into Jaehyun’s arms that your inevitable pager alert barely cracks through your consciousness. He has to race to help you put your scrubs on to make it to surgery in time, and the last thing you hear is him ruminating over ideas to cook you for dinner.

No one says a thing in the scrub room or asks any questions during the procedure that aren’t scientific, then the interns don’t crack as you offer to make up lunch another day because of your ‘VIP.' They only take the offering as is. You wonder why there isn’t more of a fuss, why they don’t ask what you were doing with llama-man, just so you can deny it to their faces.

And it’s not until you head to the locker room to change that you realize Jaehyun put your scrub top on backwards. 

Oops.

—

Jaehyun peeks around the corner of his bedroom door to make sure you're ready, and you dutifully show him the tablet in your hands.

“Okay, now play me the FOX one!” He points his finger right to the screen to make sure you know what you’re doing, like you’ve never used a tablet before when he’s seen you at work… with a tablet. 

You hit the button for football music-C.mp3, the first in the list of no less than four different ‘football music' files in his Spotify. This anthemic jingle starts to pour from the speakers and deafens you to the point that Jaehyun has to scream to get your attention, “No, that’s CBS!”

The next one in the queue, football music-E.mp3, is a twinkling yet equally as bombarding little melody. He groans two seconds into it, “No, that’s ESPN!," and runs over to the couch with his body all hunched so you won’t see the outfit he took half an hour picking out. He scrolls through the playlist with confidence and hits something without needing to think, “This is FOX.”

The one he plays is the most aggressive series of musical notes you’ve heard since you stole your brother’s Green Day CD when you were five. You thought it was about the color green. You were wrong.

You’re confused by this endless cacophony of noise that’s now melding into one, so you pause it and blurt, “They all sound the same!”

“They all sound the same?!” he exclaims in disbelief, “Go get your ears checked, woman!”

You honestly think you might need to see the head ENT and make sure you don’t have ear damage from this. There’s a reason you never play music in the OR even though your colleagues are partial to it. You have no idea how Jaehyun can manage tens of thousands of screaming fans on top of these ridiculous tunes and the players grunting on the field. You read an article on the fundamentals of stadium construction to maximize crowd noise and something called 'home field advantage' and it just didn’t make sense…. but you suppose it’s the same for him in reverse with your job.

All you can do is try your best, do these little things he asks for just to make him happy. He’s worth the effort.

You make a mental note that football music-F.mp3 is the FOX theme, and when you hit it again, he gives you such a happy smile that you got it right. Feeling the quiet pride and affection warm you, you sit back and let Jaehyun do his thing when he tells you to, “Just watch this. It’s going to blow your mind.”

He disappears behind the wall for one second, and when the FOX theme swells into an epic burst of melody, Jaehyun walks out from his room... with his phone blasting cheering noises. The noise in the living room escalates to a decibel that is as realistic as what you could expect from a real NFL game, then you're watching him stroll towards you like he owns the place.

His outfit is ridiculous, more ridiculous than you could've ever dreamt up - a flashy purple and gold suit with no shirt underneath, sunglasses, about fifteen pounds of diamond-gold chains, and his hair done up so slick and perfect he must've used a ruler to get it that way. He gets to the middle of the room, then cups his hands over his mouth and bellows, “From the University of Georgia–,” 

“I don’t think there’s a the.” You have to interrupt him, you’ve never referred to your alma mater as the Yale University, even though you probably could…. 

And he shushes you with a serious little frown, "Shhhh, listen!!!!!," before he starts up the shenanigans again, “From the! University of Georgia, by way of Macon, Georgia, your wide receiverrrrrrr, number seventy-seven, Jaehyun Jeong!!!!"

He starts waving to invisible fans and puffing out his chest in his flashy outfit, and you can't help but stare because that is a.... lot of chest.

You get distracted to the point that you forget where you are and what you're doing. By the time you remember to be a proper human being and not a craven savage, Jaehyun is yelping to get you to focus, "Baby! Babe! Hellooo?!"

Oh, right, yeah. What you practiced.

You take your elbow off of what you’re leaning on and toss him the football. He catches it with one hand with ease, and begins smiling and posing for the fake cameras. You raise the tablet like you're trying to give him better sound quality, but you really do it to snap a picture of him looking so silly - like a little purple vine of grapes, full to bursting. 

When he finishes the performance and takes a bow in front of you, you silence the music to wonder, “They really do this?” He nods and you clarify further, “On…. NBC Sunday Night Football? They play the FOX music?”

Jaehyun goes red, not expecting you to remember that detail of his schedule, and he whines, “Don’t make fun of me, the music is my favorite!” Him having a favorite football broadcast song fits in with the rest of what you know about him, as does his current worry, “But they film the walk-ins the same way and every year I look so dweeby. I want to have at least one cool b-roll of me walking into the stadium to save as a memory.”

Aw, okay, you’ll stop making fun of him for this.

“You could keep doing this for a while, you know. Many more opportunities to do so,” you subtly point out. Jaehyun rolls his eyes and doesn’t say anything in response, ignoring your prod at him to maybe reconsider retiring. It’s not your place to tell him what to do with his life but you can’t help it, you’re convinced he doesn’t want to quit just yet.

“Okay, okay,” you cave and let it go. “Show me your walk.”

He turns around and head back to his room so you can fairly evaluate him, and then stumbles and almost knocks his floor lamp over. You see the nicely stitched back of his outfit, how the suit design is all flowers and bumblebees (so cute!), before you spot… “Jaehyun, your shoes!” He’s wearing his shoes like an idiot, with the bottom half folded in and his feet over them! No wonder he thinks he walks like a dweeb, he wears his shoes like a dweeb!  “Why are your shoes like that! No wonder you walk weird on video, that is not helpful for your gait!”

“I like doing that, they’re comfyyyy and I'm lazy!” he protests as he gives up and comes running over to flop onto the couch next to you.

He sits so his head is in your lap, and as much as the gel looks nice you kinda wish you could run your hands through his fluffy hair right now. He sticks his legs up in the air so he can take a picture of his feet and his half-folded shoes, and you watch - with great annoyance and also sweet crushing - as he texts his family group chat with a poll for them to vote on:   do u like folded shoes -> y / n. 

Goofball.

You like him so much.

“You’re going to ruin all your shoes, and you have some nice shoes, why are you doing that?!” You scold him softly then lean in and kiss his forehead upside-down to make up for it, “You’re so, so, so handsome....” he’s beaming and grinning like a little puppy before you double down and he gets pouty again, “....But you gotta stop with the shoes. Put them on all the way, I'll give you a shoe horn.”

His mouth curls in a slip of confusion before he chokes out, “W-what, do you like feet or something?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you blurt. 

You couldn’t think of anything you like less than feet, even if he does have nice ones. Thank goodness he always wears socks or those fluffy Vikings slippers when he comes over. And thank god you didn't have to become a podiatrist. 

He sits up wearing a culled look of disgust and says, with utmost seriousness, “Shoe horn means you’re turned on by shoes, no?”

“OMG, Jaehyun!” you cackle out loud. “A shoe horn is a tool to help put your shoes on!”

His relieved little face nearly makes you start crying in laughter. 

He tackles you into the couch with one arm and both of you giggle away how silly it is to picture you beside yourself at the sight of his fancy shoes. When he’s got you all pretty and snug under him, he gives your face a dozen different kisses then pulls out his phone and collapses into your side. After a few seconds of tapping, he announces, “Okay, I just ordered backless shoes to solve the dilemma!”

This is just like him wrongly interpreting your professional dilemma and switching to all female doctors. He finds solutions that are about fifty steps too far but feel like they have the most genuine intentions.

You grab his phone and protest, “No. You don’t have to.”

But you can’t cancel the order since he already put it on his card–, wait, he ordered surgical clogs?! He ordered a pair of black patent leather surgical clogs from the same supply store that Mayo purchases them from for attendings. Though your instinct is to be annoyed that the supply chain is going to go off the hook now… he’s going to look so dorky in them that it’s going to loop back around to cute again. 

Jaehyun lowers the phone from your face so he can tempt you with a kiss and a suggestion, “I can order you some, too–,”

“Hell no,” you deny ASAP. You only use Nike sneakers in the OR, always have, always will. You started surgery when you were twenty and still couldn't drink, there was no need to look dorky on top of that. 

"Boooooooooooooooo." He presses his mouth against your cheek so that you can be tickled by the vibrations of his annoyance, "But I like them and I want to match with you! Even if you’re at the hospital and I'm at the game, we can think of each other."

You lean your head back into the pillow and close your eyes as he kisses you, happy that he won't be able to tell that you're swooning like you are. How is the most inane thing he can think of be so utterly romantic?

He kisses you again, and comes to his own matter-of-fact conclusion, "Of course, that could be solved if we saw each other at work."

You move your mouth away so that he misses you and splutters while kissing the couch cushion instead. You tap the back of his head in light scolding and warn, "I am not letting you fake another blood test just to see me at the hospital!"

"I meant me," he murmurs. "When are you coming to a game?"

Out of nowhere, you feel so small and shy in his arms as he lifts up to look at you with such sparkling wonder in his gaze.

You don’t know how long the NFL season is beyond the fact that the championship thing is in February… since that and Valentine's Day gives you a lot of grisly traumas to pump up your caseload. Winter is fast approaching once you skip the awful holiday that is Halloween, so, yikes. You’ve known Jaehyun for this long and have been dating him for a decent part of that and you still haven’t gone to one of his games. You haven't even watched one of them on TV.

You can't articulate your reasoning, but it still somehow feels weird to cross that boundary. It’s nothing to you if Jaehyun shows up to the hospital, there still could be a tiny chance he’d actually need a doctor. But for you to show up at his game, wear a jersey like his family does, sit in a suite that you could never afford, that's a committed girlfriend kind of situation.

However, even if you weren't dating, you would've been moved into caving either way - simply by imagining the plight of Jaehyun being alone in an unfamiliar place on a new team with no real support. Sigh.

"It’s almost impossible to get any of the weekend days off.” When he doesn't look upset, just understanding that this is more of the usual, your heart softens and you concede quietly, "but I will be sure to see you play one day."

You don’t promise, since it is both foolish and anticipatory to make this claim months in advance without knowing how your weekends are going to pan out. Not to mention both your careers are approaching a point of chaos - you with the Surgeon General position, and Jaehyun just... not even bothering to reconsider retiring.

But you’ll give it your best attempt at some point at some time.

You make sure he knows you do what you can with the limited resources you have, "I get rundowns of your play from colleagues who participate in something called ‘fantasy football.’” Your curiosity gets the best of you and you just have to ask,  "Is that sexual, by the way?"

There's no way grown men would name something with 'fantasy' in the description if there wasn't a sexual element to it. You just have to figure out if you're supposed to be jealous or annoyed.

Jaehyun cackles so hard that it does more damage to your eardrums than the music from before, and you giggle uncontrollably as he clutches you and laughs his heart out at your genuine question. He's got dewdrops of joy glittering his eyelashes, and you find him unbelievably handsome just like this - red-faced and joyous, and you want to make him laugh like this every day if you could.

He swoops to kiss your cheek and tease right there, "I'll be your football fantasy, chickpea."

He is too, too funny. Of course he is, who else would it be?

He brings it up later - when you're bare and cuddling in bed and not wanting at all to think about football - that he wants you to make an account on ESPN so you can follow him. You grumble that the app is a waste of space on your phone, but his beamy roster photo in his grape purple jersey is a nice little reminder to have on your home screen.

You still don't know what fantasy football is.

—

Funny, when you were thirteen, you had the exact same scooter you’re looking at right now. You used it to get across New Haven for classes since you couldn’t drive a car.

Only it’s not really funny because the scooter is currently sticking out of the child that was riding on it. You’re stuck in the office room watching him get a CT scan of his abdomen because the techs were on break.

This one sucks because you can’t just tell the parents to put a helmet on him. He was wearing one and this was a freak accident, so you’re already feeling like there’s going to be guilt involved if you don’t pull this off. You can tell you're in a bad mood because, in general, the sound of nurses giggling shouldn’t bother you. But you fume as you watch them jog by the open door of your room, all smiley and excited. You think it’s for a nurses-only meeting until you spot a bunch of the pediatric surgeons run by too, and they’re giggling as well. 

“Why’s everyone giggling?” Now you're not annoyed, just confused.

“Oh, a bunch of celebs are here doing charity PR and there’s some new hottie! Someone said she took one look at him with a baby and almost had to call a code on herself!” Ningning can’t help it, she was waiting to burst burst with that information, though she does have the sense to police her enthusiasm when you, Jaemin, and Jeno all wear the same you’re crazy look.

There is not a man in this world that could make you feel like that. Though perhaps Jaehyun might come close in an instance or two. 

You’re quite impressed with how Ningning manages to change the subject as soon as she senses you’re not entertained, “We tried to talk to Dr. Choi about this, but for the Sungchan Jung case, wouldn’t it make more sense to put him in a heart failure trial rather than risk a transplant? What with his athletic dreams and everything?”

“They’ve been known to steady out heart function for a few years,” Jeno adds on, then nudges Jaemin in the side so that he gets a chance to offer up his findings as well, “That would be significant of an improvement enough for him to get back to playing, and then he can get a transplant down the line.”

Hmm, that idea has merit.

That would give him a stopgap solution to get out of the hospital for months or years, even, and allow him to return to the sport he loves for the time being. You don’t know why you didn’t think of that before, but perhaps you started seeing Sungchan as less of a puzzle and more of… your sweet cutie in teenage boy form. 

“Get me the research and look it over,” you request, “I'll give Dr. Choi a consult since I know he didn’t take you seriously.”

There is no way in hell he would’ve taken the interns daring to question his treatment plan as anything other than insubordination. Hearing it from you will leave him no choice but to ponder it as a possibility. But t he interns get worried and they don’t hide it well. They sneak glances at each other and their mouths tremble as they weigh whether or not they want to speak up.

“Don’t be anxious,” you sigh, “You’ll get the credit, I promise.” They perk up, but you for once feel inclined to express some genuine pride in how they’ve been developing as doctors, “Really impressed by how you guys have been keeping up with this case–,” 

Your rare moment of praise is drowned out by genial trills of delight from the women down the hall, intermixed with definite enthusiasm from the men.

The interns make sure they roll their eyes in front of you now that they know your feelings on the matter. Ningning also decides to change her tune as well, and gives a little scoff, “Charity week is so unserious, like. I'm happy the kids are happy and get their dreams to come true but this just makes traffic and doing labs impossible.”

She doesn't have to do any more convincing to change your mind. You’ve been at Mayo for what feels like forever and not once have you been impressed by any of the so-called celebrities who came to surprise the kids. No one has been able to tempt you into breaking pretty much every plane of professionalism like those people out there are doing right now. That better be a goddamn GQ model, or like, the President of the United States himself… here to give you a job.

There’s a piercing scream that does not sound appropriate for a hospital, yet the four of you are trained to check just in case. Like peas in a pod, you all peek your heads out to see…. Jaehyun?

Is that really Jaehyun in the middle of the pediatric floor waiting room? In his workout hoodie and shorts? Throwing a ball back and forth with the tiniest kid who has a bald head? Yes, it is, his dimples are fully out and he’s got a Vikings hat and glasses on and you just… you forget you complained.

The interns do too.

 “Goddamn, is that Jaehyun Jeong?” Jeno cracks first, what you wouldn’t have expected. “I take back my comments. He is, like, the best player in football right now!”

Ningning’s bun is bouncing right into your chin since she can’t hold in her excitement, “I don’t even watch football and think he’s so hot! OMG!”

Hey? Back off?

“My mom is from Atlanta and loves him, my whole family loves him,” Jaemin blabbers, giving up on being a doctor and becoming a fanboy in about two seconds, “I'm going to get an autograph. Sorry Doc D, but this is important!”

They scurry to the crowd and you watch by yourself as every single man and woman on the pediatric floor - attendings and nurses and nobodies alike - just fawn over Jaehyun. You stay behind in the CT room to preside over the scan because it’s not like you need this in your memory bank. You get the privilege of Jaehyun being in your home and your heart, for every other hour of every other day in your life.

Though him with the kids? Really, really cute, as expected.

The ones that can make it out of their rooms stand in front of him in a neat little row and Jaehyun squats to be their height. He talks to them like they’re real adults, not a single word you hear comes out in a baby voice, and he keeps his eyes all big and serious… except for when they disappear when he smiles. But when one girl at the end reaches out a little finger to poke his dimple to see what it is, and every scrunched-up nose whisker of his comes out? That’s the end of it for you, because now you can see it. A kind of future you never thought you’d want since you were convinced you’d just… never get it.

If Jaehyun gives you the blueprint for it, though, you’re going to have a hard time saying no.

He turns with a kind smile to one of the parents and gestures for something, and the dad gives back two gigantic globules of shiny jewelry, surely the rings that he got after winning the championship twice. And then Jaehyun, he…. He gets down on one knee in front of the little girl who poked his dimples, and through the crowd, you’re able to hear his sweet voice warble, “Will you pretend marry me? Then split a pudding cup?”

Oh, goodness, this is too cute. The way his eyes are sparkling behind his glasses and how he can’t stop smiling at her are too much. You can imagine him with his little sisters playing dress up and dolls, growing up and thinking about asking girls to prom, then growing up even more and imagining doing this with daughters one day.

The girl shakes her head no and runs over to hug another little boy. 

Jaehyun’s head hangs in mock defeat as he starts to shake in giggles. Everyone joins in the laughter when Haechan, the newest chief resident of peds, raises his hand and shouts, “If she won’t, I will!," and that makes Jaehyun go so red. He tackles the other doctor in a hug in his gratitude for saving him from the 'rejection,' which makes Haechan stutter and fumble, no longer as confident as he was only a second ago.

You get it! The Jaehyun effect is unavoidable!

But when Jaehyun pulls back from the hug, he’s positioned in a way that he finally sees you standing there by the door of the CT room, watching this with a fraction of the enthusiasm as the rest of your colleagues. He doesn’t break a sweat, doesn’t crack, doesn’t smile, which is unlike him. He just raises one of his eyebrows, flicks one of the rings halfway in your direction, and mouths right your way, What about you?

Hot. 

Hot, hot, hot, not just him but, like, your body. That’s not a medical symptom, you have to remember that’s just you being smitten with him like always. 

You lean against the wall and cross your arms and ankles, make sure you roll your eyes and scoff like that is the most ridiculous thing he could’ve asked you. You don’t necessarily say no to the question, though, and when that puzzle piece fits into place in Jaehyun’s brain, he stares at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced biscuits.

Everyone is too busy swooning over him to see it.

The scan dings when it’s completed, and when you turn to take a brief look, a gasping cry whittles itself through your ear - your skip the scan and go right to the CT machine and… and the boy is just pouring blood from the wound in his belly. The tamponade the scooter provided isn’t enough to keep it all in, and you haven't taken one step towards the room before the EKG flatlines. 

“Code blue!” you shout.

You escalate into a sprint to get the boy out of the CT machine, fingers smashing the button to sound the code alert throughout the entire peds floor to get everyone you need as fast as you can. You pull him out and then hop onto his gurney, pressing your hands right into the tear that is leaking blood at a dizzying pace.

As soon as you hear the practiced trio of footsteps run in, you’re ordering as fast as you can, “Get an OR and cardio and general and every goddamn nurse on the floor!” Ningning is panicking and attempting to wipe up the blood for no reason at all and you literally kick her leg and shout, “Get on the fucking patient and start compressions!” 

You can’t let go and you can't shock him right now, you have to hold an immense strength of pressure against this poor boy’s wound. Otherwise his entire life will gush straight through your hands and onto the floor. 

Jaemin and Jeno and whatever nurse gets there first puts up the barriers on the bed as Ningning marks out the compressions against his chest. Then you’re moving and feeling the cool air of the CT room dissipate into the hot fear that the alarm induced on the floor. They’re screaming at the top of their lungs to clear the hallway because the elevator’s at the other end, Ningning is grunting hard with each compression, and it all starts to blur.

You can’t see anything except the blood staining your arms, so your brain divides into two perfect halves - one dedicated to keeping that blood stain from expanding any further, and the other memorizing the two seconds of CT scan that you managed to pick up. With the huge shadow in the middle of the torso–,

“No scrubbing!” you command as they round the corner towards the last bit of hallway. “It’s the abdominal aorta!”

There’s no time to get sterile. In the time that you spend scrubbing, this little boy is going to bleed out. The wildly inappropriate little sob that erupts from Ningning tells you she knows it, too.

There’s kids running out of the way, there’s people flying in your vision, and you swear you get this perfect glimpse at Jaehyun backed against the wall of the waiting room. But you're not sure, your vision soils with the extra blood that is beginning to seep into your skin.

One elevator ride later and you’re in the OR with your brain halves fully intact, now with one goal and one goal only - to put this boy back together. This boy who, even with his face covered, is so fragile and unmistakably little that you have to take an extra deep breath before you make the first cut.

He’s just as little as the girl who poked Jaehyun’s cheek, but you cannot think about that. 

—

Jaemin has been sobbing for the past ten minutes, despite the stern looks you’ve been shooting him since you’ve left the scrub room.

Jeno was okay and you thought for sure that Ningning was going to be the first to crack, but she held the retractor with no issues during that operation. For some reason, your usually bright third intern just lost it the second he stepped out.

You pinch his arm on purpose so he can focus on that instead of whatever he’s going through, and you hiss, “Get your shit together, you cannot look like that after what we just did.” He sniffles and the tears stop flowing, but he looks like he could break down again at any second. You grab his arm and keep him behind you where he’s half covered in your shadow, and order all of them, “No crying. Give them your name and the information straight, no sugarcoating it, because they will look for the hidden meaning in your words.”

Quite frankly, you’ve never had a problem talking to family members of patients. You’ve watched many of your colleagues go through far too many emotions in this regard that you could write a manual on what not to do.

The boy’s mom is alone in a heavily-crowded waiting room for the middle of the night, but she is wide awake. Her hands are clasped before her in a gesture of prayer, but they come to shakily grasp her chair when she sees you emerge past the restricted door. She stands up and though you make no motion to hold her, she grabs your arms for your support.

You get through the information as efficiently as you can so that she can stop clawing at you, “I'm Dr. y/l/n, I'm the chief of the trauma department here at Mayo, and the surgeon who saw your son when he came in. He suffered a ruptured abdominal aorta in his accident, and while we were giving him a scan, he coded, which meant he lost his pulse.” Her nails press into your biceps and snag hurtful crescent moons of what she thinks is impending devastation, thus you make yourself hurry up, “We got him to surgery in time and I was able to fix the damage done to your son. Fingers crossed, but he should be out of the woods not long after waking up in the ICU.”

She hugs you and starts sobbing, how could she not?

After you got the bleeding under control - a touch and go, tense few minutes in which none of you spoke or even breathed - the rest of the repair was a fairly simple procedure that you let Resident Zhang do a part of. The neuro check was fine, yet you still gave Ningning and Jeno strict instructions to do hourly checks and come to you if anything looked off. You mean even if an eyelash is out of place on that little boy, you want to know.

You take a moment to let the mom weep, grieve, relax all at once against you instead of asking her to get off. While you’re stretching out your neck from your exhaustion, you spot a sleeping, familiar figure in one of the waiting room chairs.

You gently pry her off you and transfer Jaemin forward to take over, making this transition as smooth as you can, “Dr. Na, please assist her with the next steps.”

After making sure that Jaemin's face is totally devoid of both emotion and tears, that he lets her hug him when she makes it clear that she needs to, and that he appropriately does not let his voice crack while offering, Can I show you to your son’s room?, you're done with this case for today. You take your first break after that ten hour surgery to do exactly what you need.

You take off your sneakers because they hurt, pad over to the back of the waiting room in your socks, and kneel in front of a slumbering Jaehyun. He’s tucked in one of the waiting room chairs with his hood over his ears and his glasses all askew, and how is it possible he’s even cute like this?

You put your hands over his thighs and give him the lightest tickle, and he startles awake, babbling, “Chickpea blood!” He grabs one of your forearms and holds it close to his nose to check for the stain he remembers seeing. There's nothing, so he kisses your wrist and sleepily mumbles, “No blood?”

You shake your head. “No blood, I saved him, don’t worry.”

He grabs you up from off the floor to hold you and hug you close, burying his hands into your back to feel your presence unharmed and okay. All the while he gets flustered and whiny in your ear, “Oh my god, I was so scared! I had no idea what was going on, but I knew he was in good hands!”

That is better than any praise you’ve gotten from your teachers, professors, residents, attendings, or chiefs.

“Did you sit here and wait the whole time?” It's been such a long time, y ou’re pretty sure the last thing you remember on that CT room computer was the clock saying 4:20 and you laughing at it.

He nods and lets out this massive, massive yawn. “Must’ve signed autographs for the entire hospital while I sat here killing time, the only reason I'm here at,” he checks his watch and his eyes bug out of his head, “shit, two am, is because I signed one for every single extended family member of the night nurse. Which…. Jesus, she has a lot of family members.”

It doesn’t seem real that he came here for work and then just decided to stay when your apartment building is literally across the street. 

You remind him of that, “Jae, you could’ve just went home.”

“I wanted to wait,” he hums with his eyes closed, trying to capture his nap again. “Didn’t know if you needed me.”

Your heart caves in on itself with the tender pressure of his sweet, honest care for you, that keeps shining no matter how twisted your knots seem to get.

Your feet twinge with pain hard which makes you fall back and hit the tiles of the hospital floor (gross!) But you’re too tired to stand back up, so you just lean your head into Jaehyun’s knee and warble back, equally as sleepy, “Yeah, I do. I think I need someone to help me make it home. My feet hurt.” 

Then Jaehyun is standing and picking you up like you weigh nothing more than a tiny chicken he has on his farm, and you’re biting your lip to not to squeal out loud and disturb the waiting room. You punch his chest as softly as you can, and giggle, “Hey! I have to get my stuff!”

“Just get it tomorrow,” he sighs, pressing your head in so that it’s tucked warm and safe against his shoulder. “Let’s go home and sleep, baby.”

You're sure you sense an underhanded tone of flirtation to his offer, and despite your exhaustion, you wouldn’t mind the other kind of sleeping as a way to get the rest of your pent-up energy out.

But he doesn’t want to have sex, not even when you offer. 

You brush your teeth side by side and after you wash your face, you have to wake Jaehyun up from falling asleep where he's sitting on the toilet lid. After about two seconds of cuddling in bed, you’re so lazy you don't even kiss him goodnight, you just wrap your ankle around his and call it. His mouth is already open and snoring on his half of your pillow, and you soak in the look of him for one more second before you're drifting away into the sweetest, most pain-free dreams…

You made it so that mom got to see her little boy again. You deserve this.

—

Jaehyun ‘just happened to get home early from practice to make chicken salad’ and then ‘just happened to walk to the hospital instead of to my car.’ Which means he had a break in his schedule and planned to surprise you with lunch so you didn’t spend money on something bad from the cafeteria. He was once again escorted to your floor by security, and you forgot to scold him because he greeted you with a hug and this perfect oak leaf he picked up on the sidewalk. 

Then he was supposed to be napping before his late flight to LA, but you’ve spent the past half an hour kissing on the couch in your office.

He draws out a delicate arc of lust across your bottom lip with his tongue, and that forces a sigh right out of you, “You can't do this anymore, your insurance is going to get suspicious. Not to mention your team of female doctors is going to start wondering about your tests.”

If they’re as good as you are, they’re going to have questions about why he’s spending so much time at the Mayo Clinic while being otherwise healthy. And he will not know how to lie to cover it up.

“Nah, it's all cool.” Jaehyun is unbothered, completely focused on letting his hands roam everywhere under your scrub top and not leaving any bit out. “I asked them about you on the sly and they all knew who you were. Lots of admirers out there but I'm the biggest!”

He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and then kisses you, and how is it possible that the only time you’ve felt like your hard work has paid off the most is right here, right now? 

And…. you can’t be mad about any of these schemes. The Vikings’ season is going to get into the nitty gritty soon based on what Jaehyun has been telling you and the level of preparation he’s going through. You know he only does this to try and spend as much time as he can with you until he can't. 

You grasp at his cheeks to get him to stop kissing you for a second, so you can catch your breath on your couch cushion and ask, “I didn't know you started charity weeks with the Vikings, why didn't you tell me?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Didn't think much of it ‘cause that was just a regular part of life when I was with the Falcons. Didn’t seem special.”

“Everything about this is special to me,” you murmur, giving his arm a little tease for being so humble. Watching how happy he was with the kids and how happy he made them, even for those five minutes… that was special. He is such a special human to have that kind of effect on everyone. You poke his dimple like the little girl did, and tease him with your words this time, “I told you that people here would love you.” 

He sidesteps that reminder to raise an eyebrow and blatantly flirt like he did behind everyone’s backs, “Did that make you want to have a dozen babies with me? That’s usually what happens, you know. People scream I want to have your babies!”

The chambers of your heart give a halfhearted attempt at deflating, before the affectionate strength of your feelings keeps them in place. 

“Noooooo." You return the flirtation by giving him a coy little smile in return.  You think it’s obvious that you did, at least a little. Even for someone like you, it was hard not to have the thought…

Though maybe not a dozen.   

Jaehyun props his head up against his arm on the back of the couch and wonders openly, “Can you see yourself having kids in the future?” His other hand comes to hold yours in a cradle of protection on his leg, while he explains the reasoning behind his question, “I was trying not to call attention to the charity thing because I was worried that it’d be hurtful for you. Seeing kids.”

You don’t ever think you’re going to get over how the subject matter makes your emotions twist and turn - the medical terms would probably be anxiety and apprehension - and it becomes even more confusing when he’s the one asking you about it.

You stare down hard at where your hands are linked and you admit, “When I first started, I used to avoid the peds rotations for as long as I could. I’d hold my feelings in until it was over, and then I'd cry so hard my resident would think that I was sick. So much for not letting it bother me, huh?”

You let out a sheepish laugh, but Jaehyun doesn’t find it funny. He sits there with his lips twisted into waves of secondary tension, feeling that weight on your behalf. You cannot express how much you wish at that moment you would’ve had someone like him - or him, just him - there with you. When you were twenty and trying to make sense of seeing all the little kids and their loving parents around you.

He was too busy catching footballs and doing illegal keg stands at the University of Georgia then, but still.

“I don’t know,” you muse, flexing and twisting and teasing your fingers in his and loving how none of it feels uncomfortable. “I don’t think that desire was ever taken out of me though. Not fully.”

You used to be afraid you'd repeat the cycle your parents inflicted on you, but you already know you’re too afraid to let it happen again. You want to give a baby a good life and support it unconditionally, what you never had.

“I’d say no right now, because can you imagine me with a kid right now?” You both chuckle at the mental picture of you ordering a real baby around like you order around your interns. He keeps laughing and laughing, but your giggles peter off into a quiet stream of worry that traverses straight from your heart to your vocal cords. Not even a kiss to his shoulder for comfort helps, because you have to say this, “But beyond that, I’d think I'd say just one. So this is your warning to run.”

You have to warn Jaehyun about this now, you have to. You don't want any sort of heartbreaking, shattering, relationship-ending argument to happen five years down the line - when this comes up again and you’re on opposite pages entirely, after being too smitten to have the tough conversations. 

His hand jolts in yours, and you can feel the confusion in his question, “Why would I run?”

You’re confused in return. You let out one tiny, shy giggle as you poke his heart and confess, “Well, I just assumed you’d want at least a dozen babies of your own. It’s in your nature, isn’t it?”

He’s run around with six sisters for his entire life, his home in Georgia is full to the brim with love and a multitude of baby animals and so much warmth. He must want to do it all over again, no? 

Jaehyun doesn’t laugh, doesn’t agree, he doesn’t even smile. He lingers in a specific pool of silent silence and admits in turn, “I don’t.”

You are fully, fully shocked, not expecting that outright denial, and you know you show it on your face.

Because Jaehyun gets equally sheepish and shy right after, “I don’t mean I don’t want it at all, but… I’ve been a dad and brother to six girls for thirty years. I could use a break for a bit. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I'd want like, one… at most.”

How were you ever worried that you and Jaehyun weren’t alike at all?

“What about all those people who want to have your babies?” you flirt, gathering up his face so you can tickle his nose with yours. “Whatever will they do!” 

Instead of laughing along, he reaches carefully to grab one of your hands off his cheek and presses it against his sternum. The makeshift stethoscope of your palm against his heart shows off how his heart is roaring at breakneck speed as he admits, “The right person will understand why I don't want to spread my heart too thin.” 

Your parents decided to give their affection to too many people - to your siblings, to their respective partners, to your aunts and your uncles and your cousins, to their friends at the country club, to their colleagues at work. To anyone and everyone, except for you. You never want to make that mistake. 

“Don’t put too much butter on a biscuit? Or something?” you tease.

He drops your hand and immediately begins to whine, “You’re teasing meeeeee, don’t tease me!” 

In a flash, he snatches you up with a growl, so that you’re sitting on him the way you both like the most. You’re tucked into his legs and his fingers are stroking your waist as you’re staring at his face amidst the curtain of your unbraided hair. It feels strange and indescribable and absolutely wonderful that despite being so different - as different as two human beings can be - your hearts are on the same plane of understanding.

“I understand,” you breathe. “I understand completely.”

You want to have one perfect little child, and make sure they never question once that they are the person you love most in the world. 

He stares at you in awe, like he can’t believe you’re real and you’re saying all these things that he’s longed to hear, then your mouth is neatly fitting into his. He can’t wait any longer to kiss you, and your face gets squished in his grasp because his hands are too strong with their delighted twitching. His teeth snag on your bottom lip with a little more intention, all in haste to have you open your mouth so he can slick his tongue straight in, then breathe, “I'm so lucky, I'm so, so lucky.”

You feel compelled to return the sentiment, because there isn’t anything in you that gives you pause anymore, “I'm luckier.”  

“I'm more luckier…” Jaehyun whispers back, and you want to correct him, more luckier isn’t a thing–, 

“Doc D!”

The door to your office flies open and in runs Ningning with a massive stack of files and her little notebook... and they go flying everywhere when she sees you and Jaehyun mid-kiss. She manages to catch them before they fall despite her fraught expression, and her mouth opens and closes at least a dozen countable times.

She blatantly stares at who you’re sitting on while stuttering your way, “I-I…….. I have the heart failure research you asked f-for. Jaehyun Jeong?!” She blinks hard to make sure it’s really her scary trauma chief in here with the celebrity she was just swooning over, “W-weren’t you just saying that…….. What?! Did this just happen?!”

She’s trying to piece together when you would’ve met Jaehyun Jeong during the chaos of that day, gotten over your disdain for his celebrity, then somehow arrived at this point in the week that’s passed since.  

Jaehyun’s hands flinch against your waist as he tries to hide them and realizes there’s nowhere to go other than in your pants, which would be worse. Eventually he gives up, sticks his red face over your shoulder and pretends like this is normal, “Hihi! Yeah, that’s me! And no! We’ve been dating for a while!”

Your cause of death is going to be complete mortification, after the garbled choking noise Ningning makes at the news.

Why is he so honest! He’s too cute!

You don’t get off him like you should…. because one shift of your legs brings out his tiny groan of pain, and you can feel that that little bit of kissing really riled him up. So you’re stuck there straddling him with your back turned, fuck. Ha. You clear your throat and resume using your best professional tone, “Leave them on my desk, I'll take a pass through them when I have the time.” 

“Yes, of course!” She obliges quickly, too afraid to get a whooping during rounds than to dare talk back to you right now. When she tiptoes over to your desk to drop them off, you accidentally make eye contact and she averts her gaze with whiplash speed.

You clutch Jaehyun’s shoulder and silently beg for this to be over as soon as possible. 

But this being over means your gossipy intern is going to go and gossip to the other gossipy interns, which means it’s inevitable that the most gossipy resident will overhear, and then it’s practically a given that all the attendings will know after one rotation on the surgical floor. By then, it’ll be too late. 

You knock your head into Jaehyun’s for a second, and as his grip around you becomes as protective as ever, you groan and call, “Ningning.”

You don’t call her Dr. Ning, because this is a personal appeal.

When she stops in her tracks and stares at you with wide - yet still somehow averted - eyes, you feel some odd emotion compel you into requesting, “I would never usually do this, but if you make sure this doesn’t spread, I'll get you into whatever surgery happens on the case if it does. Sorry, this is special to me. I can’t have it become workplace gossip.”

You don't want people to know you’re seeing Jaehyun Jeong, not because you're ashamed (there is literally nothing to be ashamed about) but because he’s Jaehyun Jeong. If your intern had caught you with a random, you wouldn’t care if the gossip mill churned behind your back. But he’s famous, and any one of these people can say anything on the Internet at any time, and that means it could go viral where his family would see.

You don't know if he's ready for that, and you want to protect him in the way he protects you.

“Yes, Dr. y/l/n, of course, Dr. y/l/n,” Ningning agrees right away, giving you this awkward half-curtsy, before she does the same thing in Jaehyun’s direction and goes beet red when he smiles at her. “Have a good day! You too, Mr. Jeong!”

She runs out of the door and slams it, and from the outside you hear a screech as she puts a chair in front of your office door as an extra layer of protection. 

He starts laughing before she shuffles away, belly-shaking laughter that you’re sure your intern will hear and get embarrassed by. But when you look at Jaehyun to scold him, you realize he is absolutely laughing at you and only you. You stick a warning finger in his face and grumble, “Do not say a word about this.” He opens his mouth and you stick your hand over it and growl, “Shush.”

If he does, your cause of death will now be mortification at his hands.

Jaehyun gives the inside of your palm a flirty little kiss of agreement, but the second you slip your hand away he jabs at you, “Okay, I toooooooootally won’t say anything about how you’re such a softy for me you’re bribing your interns now. Not a word, I promise, I won’t say anything about how much you liiiike me–,”

You kiss him to shut him up, and you suppose that does not help your case whatsoever.

Oh, well.

—

You had a rare morning with no surgeries, which meant you could go pick up Jaehyun at the airport on his way back from Detroit. You could tell that the airport valet wanted to tell you two to hurry up and stop kissing by his car but couldn't so he could still get a tip. Yuta can’t even ask you how many people you saved today because you’re preoccupied kissing all the way into the elevator.

It's safe to say that you're approaching the point of being insatiable in this relationship, because you stop in the hallway just to make out more even though your apartments are right there. He’s already got your scrub top halfway off before either of you have even made an attempt at retrieving your keys

“I’mm sooooo happy I'm back,” he breathes into your lips, “I dreamt about you the whole time I was gone.”

You did, too. Even though it was only three days, it felt like they dragged on forever.

The elevator dings - strange, you’re the only two who live on this floor - but you don't think much about it other than turning to hide in his arms. You stand on your tiptoes and seal your mouth to his, then he rolls his hips into yours with a bit of pressure that is far too inappropriate for this still semi-public location. Your imminent scolding is lost in the winds of your gasp when he tugs your hair and innocently wonders, “Should we just do it in the hallway? LOL, why not, right? The carpet is so nice–,”

His question is replaced by the audible noise of sobbing, followed by a staggering gasp and then even more sobbing.

Jaehyun lifts his head from yours… and goes as cold and icy as he’s capable of when he sees who it is, “Put your phone down.”

tbc.

Chapter Text

You're confused.

Jaehyun is holding both your hands so you know you're not somehow holding your work pager in one of them. What did he mean by put your phone down? You peek over your shoulder and almost collapse into him when you see a tearful Jimin lowering her phone from having recording everything she saw (yikes! yikes, again!) after she got off the elevator.

Even though that’s his sister, Jaehyun doesn’t back down from using his authority, “Delete that and shut your mouth and I'll get you the Prada bag you’ve been begging Mama for.”

Without hesitating, Jimin sniffles and slips the device into the pocket of her jeans as the elevator dings a second time to make way for even more crying. A sobbing Yerim staggers out of it while clutched onto Yves, who looks beyond upset, and  Jimin starts bawling her eyes out again. Because he is the way he is, you anticipate Jaehyun getting upset, too.

But he just rubs a hand over his face and sighs in exhaustion.

What…. is going on here?

You’ve never found a set of behaviors more bizarre, most notably how Yves tries to drag Yerim over to give Jaehyun a hug and he stands there like a statue.

As they keep crying, he points surreptitiously over to Yerim and mutters under his breath to you, “It’s the same old saga… That one is going to be upset that a London guy asked her out and it didn’t work out...” he lets out another sigh and gestures to Jimin, “...and that one is going to rip her heart out about some bullshit sorority formal that makes her think about our dad, even though he’s been gone for twenty years.” You have no idea how to process this information but Jaehyun is letting it all out, “Every time they get upset they come to where I am and say they need me. Surprised that they're doing it now, considering it used to be a trip home to get fed by their mother.” He raises his hands like an orchestra conductor and prepares you, “And three, two–,”

“Jaeeeeeeeeeggy!” Before he’s done with his cue, Yerim lets out a horrific wail and cries into this totally British handkerchief, “I went on two dates with a guy in my office and he told me he didn’t see it going anywhere! I'm so upset!”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, sticks out his arm, and Yerim sprints to hug him.

Jimin sobs even harder, “I need the hug more! I don’t have anyone to take to the parents’ formal ‘cause Mama can’t make it.”

Despite being sarcastic before, his face breaks a little when he registers how sad she is at not having their dad around. Then he sticks his other arm out and she scurries to hug him, too.

Jaehyun rolls his eyes right at you a second time, more exaggerated now that they can’t see, and your tiny giggle is drowned out by Yves complaining, “Don’t roll your eyes at me! I'm sorry that I'm okay but still want a hug, too!”

He lets out one final exhale of resignation that Yves takes that as a yes - she runs and hugs his chest, then does a very good job of rubbing her face right into it. Yuuup, you’re officially uncomfortable and this is now your cue to get out of here. If it was Soojung or one of his older sisters - despite their mysterious feelings towards you - you’d be fine with staying, but nope! Time to go! You take one step away and Jaehyun's glare hits you with the force of a thousand football players tackling you at once.

Why the hell do you stop walking?

With three girls latched onto him, Jaehyun shuffles like a penguin back inside his apartment while you follow behind like an awkward weirdo creep. He gets into the kitchen and you close the door yet... leave it unlocked just in case! But they still don’t let go of him.

He tries his best to keep his frustration held in, however, his answer is a tad covered in it, “Okay, will you please let go of me? I made cookies my last off day,” (for you both, because you didn’t have time to buy him sweets for the week), “and there’s lavender lotion in the hall closet,” (for you only, so your hands wouldn’t get dry after scrubbing), “and you both left your pajamas here last time.”

At least he knows that you always sleep in his clothes so there won’t be any mix ups. 

The two girls disentangle themselves to go running for the refrigerator, and somehow in the ten seconds it takes for him to walk over and try to cuddle you, they’re back, with cookies and ten times more guilt-inducing tears.

First from Yerim, “We just want to hold youuuuuu,” accompanied right by Jimin’s, “We want a hug from you, that’s why we cameeeeeee.”

He doesn’t bother hiding how annoyed he is considering their complaining is what’s preventing him from having a private night with you. They try to swoop in for another hug and he backs off, and the second they start to sniffle he gives them such a stern stare.  He puts his hands on his hips and you’ve never heard him be this sarcastic before, “How do we feel about not being on the apps? And maybe not caring about what other people think and going to formals alone?”

Huh, that sounds pretty realistic–, 

“No!” they both whine at the same time, “No, Jaeggy, noooooo….”

You awkwardly start to align napkins on the kitchen counter when the three siblings start murmur-arguing with each other. You don't want to eavesdrop because then you'll definitely form opinions, and once you have an opinion, it's pretty much over for that person. The entire time, Jaehyun keeps giving you these little glances that beg you to stay.

During that, Yves is unpacking their bags and wiping the counters down like this is her home, and when she finishes this particular strip of kitchen, she’s right in front of you and your stack of napkins. She notices you there, a total afterthought to the past twenty minutes and also an alien presence, and gives you such a confused expression as she waits for you to explain yourself first. 

“I, uh….” You fumble out of nowhere, trying to think of what will make this not feel like your skin is melting off, “I steal some soap and stuff from the hospital? It’s scent-free so it’s good for delicate skin. You could have that.”

The girls look at you like you’re insane, especially Jimin - she can’t believe you’re daring to get involved after what she saw - and you begin to get nervous. Jaehyun is all soppy and appreciative, but you have no opportunity to languish in his sweet crushing because you’re seriously scared this is going to implode.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” Yves asks with a wondering little cock of her head. It’s not quite malicious and it’s not fully mean, but its intentions are unmistakable - she wants you out of there as fast as possible, since this is a bonding time between a family that she’s a part of and you’re not.

“Ohhhhhhh, you knowwwwwww…” You drag it out as you beg Jaehyun with your eyes to give you some kind of excuse. He’s trapped there with his sisters and unable to help, so you just speak in what you think is the same cheery tone he uses, “Just hanging with my bestie!”

His eyes flutter shut at the shock of secondhand embarrassment he experiences. Fucking cringe, what the hell was that?! That’s what you went with?! That?!?!?!?!?!!??!

“Wait, who?” Now Yves is irked and playing her own brand of dirty, “Yerim and Jimin are besties 'cause they’re sisters, and I'm besties with them and besties with Jaehyun!”

You can’t possibly say Jaehyun is your best friend, even though he’s already claimed that he is. That would be ridiculous–, 

“Chickp–, y/n is my bestie!” Jaehyun announces without hesitation.

You watch as he pinches Jimin’s arm on purpose when she’s opens her mouth to spill that you're far beyond 'besties.'

Yves goes from spicy and confrontational to droopy and wilted as soon as she hears his comment - you can tell she’s hurt from how she doesn’t want to look at him and can only focus on the hem of her dress. The one thing she must’ve been clinging on to after their breakup was still being able to call herself his best friend, and there’s no reason she would’ve assumed that changed.

Your pager goes off and startles everyone.

On the inside, you let out this great, epic sigh of relief.

On the outside, you put on a contrite face and mumble, “Sorry…. somebody just got run over by a semi, gotta go!”

Never have you been so relieved by mortal injury.

Yves full-on flinches at the unnecessary information, and Jaehyun’s sisters start crying again at the thought of gruesome injury. You really have to get out of there before you incite a nuclear fury. You don’t wave or say goodbye or dare to give Jaehyun any sort of affection in parting. you grab your keys and your phone and hightail it out of there, hoping you can make it to the elevator in one piece–, 

“Psst!” You turn around and Jaehyun has stuck his head out the door like a little pea, just to wave goodbye. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You do not want those people in your house. 

“I'm on call this whole week!” you hiss, “I'm going back to the hospital!” 

“Okay perfect, even better!” Jaehyun almost gives you two away because he doesn’t bother to be quiet. “I'll just snuggle your sheets and wait for you to come back next weekend! Byebye!”

He disappears back into his apartment and you hear the lock on his door click to give you a moment of safety and solitude to escape. You never contemplated not getting along with his family because you were in such a stricken bubble with him and your feelings, and viewing yourself as part of his extended network seemed far too serious for what you were doing. Not to mention the little detail of you not having a family for him to attempt to get along with in return sort of helped. 

But you didn’t enjoy anything about that interaction, literally nothing at all. In fact, all it did was make your skin feel as if you have incurable hives. 

—

“God this food is so fucking good. So much better than the shitty UM cafeteria. I'm so glad I came to meet you here, thank Jae again for me.”

Seulgi dropping that name during your unrelated consult-lunch date makes the itchy hives come back across your skin. You have no idea what Jaehyun has been doing with his family, you've been trying not to think too much about him, considering he had to bribe one of his sisters not to spill the beans about you making out.

“Read the page,” you grumble instead, stealing the baked potato she’s shoveling at and replacing it with your old med school textbook. “A crash c-section into a hysterectomy is only necessary when?”

“You really called yourself his bestie, Bugs?"

You glare at Seulgi so hard for going off topic and she doesn't back down, apparently immune to the Chief of Trauma stare. So you decide to be equally as petty, “I'm not going to help you, and this is the surgery that got me chief resident.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a spoonful of potato over your precious textbook, then says through a mouthful, “Do I need to remind you I'm not a surgeon? I would have to stop at the C, I'm just reviewing those steps.” She closes the lid of the textbook before you can start pressing her on unrelated case details and gets back to the conversation she wants to have, “His sisters and his ex showed up, like, together?!”

Ugh.

You nod, because yep! It was great.

Then you have to accept she’s never going to let this go, “Oooh, that’s not going to work, a sister alliance is a hard one to break. I'm besties with my boyfriend’s older sister.”

Fuck, does Seulgi realize she’s making you more insecure right now?

You don’t want to talk about this. You’re on call for two more days, which means you have an excuse not to go home and by the time you do, you’ll have Jaehyun back to yourself. That’s all you really need. (Because one night without sex was already a lot… wait, you mean because you miss being at your house.)

When you keep your mouth shut, Seulgi probes further, “Did you at least tell them you were dating?” 

“Slugs, come on! No! He paid his sister off to not say anything…” You’re about to rant about how strange it was that Jaehyun didn’t want his sister to know that you were dating, when Seulgi’s gaze hones in on a spot right behind your shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

Her eyes flash down to the baked potato so fast and she mutters, “Do not look up, do not.”

She goes from calm to panicky, trying to avoid eye contact with that one specific part of the cafeteria for whatever reason. You’re so curious as to what it is since you’ve never seen her freaked out like this. You don't care, you know everyone in this hospital and they're all scared of you, so what harm is there to look—,

“Seulgi! Hihi!”

Oh, no.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, he saw me!” Seulgi yelps and hides her head in her hands, “He’s with them, all three of them!”

Jaehyun’s here?

Not only that, he brought his whole family to the hospital? Sorry, correction, he brought A) his family, and, B) his ex-girlfriend, to your place of work? 

The code alarm is going off in the ER which feels far like ironic background noise to you looking up from your cafeteria booth and seeing Jaehyun in his glasses and Vikings hoodie just beaming at you. With, yes, his whole family and his ex-girlfriend standing behind him.

"Hihi! Thought this might be a fun place to have lunch!" His announcement draws the attention of several surrounding tables, as always, who then attempt to figure out if that really is Jaehyun Jeong.

And his phrasing is just code for 'I missed you and didn't want to spend another day separated,' which you can't be too mad at him for. You missed him, too.

The girls are in three versions of the same cozy pink sweater dress, and you haven’t had time to change out of the scrubs you've been wearing for two days now, with the two day old ketchup stain on the arm. You get so flustered you hold your arms out and beckon, “Welcome! Please, sit! Eat our food!” All five of them stare at you in confusion and Seulgi might be the worst offender as you point her out to them, “This is Seulgi, a consulting doctor from another Minnesota hospital! Peace be with you!”

Peace be with you? Jesus Christ.

Literally. 

You brace for laughter or a judgmental comment, but you blink and Jaehyun is hurrying to sit next to you in the booth like he wants to do nothing more. Then Seulgi springs up from her side of the table and announces, “OMG, Jaehyun! I want to sit next to you, too! This is the first time we’re meeting in person!,” and manages to sneak into your side of the booth before Yves can stake her claim at Jaehyun’s right hand. 

The three remaining girls have to cram onto one seat and they don’t look happy.

Jaehyun is an oblivious bean to all of this, he’s just happy to throw an arm around Seulgi and chirp, “I'm so happy you and chickp–, y/n are hanging out!”

With his other hand, he scoops up both your legs under the table and puts them over his knee so you can cuddle in secret. Even though Yves can’t see any of it in blatant view, the simple sight of you getting to sit next to her ex while she can't has her seething where she’s sitting. Her knuckles are white where she’s gripping the table. 

You have no idea what’s going on or why she’s so mad–, 

[1:23 pm] Seulgi Kang, MD: lol she looks like she’s going to poop herself

You are going to kill her for almost making you laugh out loud.

[1:25 pm] you: What the hell are you doing?
[1:25 pm] Seulgi Kang, MD: we’re figuring this out
[1:26 pm] Seulgi Kang, MD: we have more degrees than all of them put together

That’s right. She has two, you have three, and the Jaehyun-adjacent crowd has…. four. 

“What are you guys doing? Working on your patients?” Yves takes control of the conversation as she reads your textbook for herself and wonders, “What’s a crash-c hysterectomy?”

Past Jaehyun’s chest, you see Seulgi’s grin glint with evil. Before she can do what you know she wants to, you jump into action and steal the textbook back, blurting, “You don’t want to know.” Yves will take it the wrong way, that’s one medical situation she shouldn’t have to hear about....

“When you take a baby out of someone and then you take out their uterus so they can’t have any more babies?!” Your attempt at being kind and deflecting is totally derailed by the existence of Google and Yerim's accompanying gasp.  

Seulgi nods and the three of them tear up immediately. This is what you were afraid of. Some people don’t need to know the details of what goes on in a place like this - you’re not being mean when you say that they can’t handle it, you recognize most people can’t. 

You thought Jaehyun was going to be the softest softy about this, but he just shrugs and compliments you both, “That’s pretty cool, you two must save a lot of moms, then, huh? That’s a doubly good deed.” He squeezes your leg and lets his fingers stroke across your knee, giving you an extra dazzling smile as your reward for… doing your job. And just like that, your worry about him judging you for this goes away. (He’s sooooooooo sweet.) 

Yves puts her chin on her hand and sighs through wiping away a tear, “Not being able to have a lot of babies would make me sad.”

Woof.

Read the room, maybe? Realize that there are bigger problems here than you?

“Maybe some people don’t want to have a lot of babies,” Jaehyun argues back, and then he… he stares right at you and doesn’t bother to hide it. 

He is just. He is so much sometimes. 

Jimin’s eyes narrow at the two of you, and then she goes for it, “Who are you dating, y/n! That’s a fun topic, let us catch up on that!”

She knows exactly what she’s doing and though Jaehyun’s smile doesn’t falter, you can feel his hand grab yours in worry. Jimin looks over at her sister to see if Yerim is picking up what she’s putting down, and thankfully there still seems to be one Jeong woman in the dark about this.

Seulgi steps in to have your back, “We don’t have time to date.” 

Jimin does not retreat from her attempt to underhandedly expose your and her brother's evolved relationship, “Oh, but you have time to hang out and gossip over your weird articles?”

Does she not know how a real job works? No wonder she has all this free time to come and bother her brother. 

When Jaehyun’s jaw clenches with the smallest bit of stern warning, you decide to end this with a braid of the truth and a lie which will do everyone some good, “When you get to my age, you make do with seeing people when you can. That doesn’t leave me a lot of time for having a boyfriend.” 

His subdued smile presses the dimple out in his cheek, like he knows exactly what you’re talking about. 

“I'm your age and I always have time to date,” Yves innocently... or not-so-innocently offers up, “When Jae and I were dating, we always went on date nights.”

Yes, but she’s not a–, 

“You’re not a doctor, though,” Jaehyun blurts.

Yves looks genuinely offended he points it out, as offended as you feel smitten with him. 

You squeeze his hand under the table because you don’t want him to cop to the truth in front of them if he doesn’t want to, and instead concede, “It’s the way I've been for forever. I'm used to being alone." He, in turn, nearly gives it away for the second time when he has the instinct to press his shoulder into yours, for a little bit of close comfort.

Seulgi senses that none of this is supposed to be happening, and steers the conversation her way, “Not totally alone, because, you know, I'm her best friend.” 

Maybe that’s why you never thought of Jaehyun as your true best friend. He's your closest friend, but was also solidly sitting in a separate, sweet little category. 

Jimin senses another opportunity to pry apart the truth here. She nudges Yves in the side to pay attention, a show of subtle solidarity, before she wonders right at you, “But you said Jae was your best friend, how is that possible?” 

“You can have more than one best friend, you dumbass,” Seulgi answers before you or Jaehyun have a second to think about your answer, unable to sit through this bullshit any longer. 

“What the heck is wrong with you!" Jimin wails.

Yves takes that opportunity to show her support for her former sister-in-law, and says to the whole table, “Don’t call names, that’s not very ladylike.”

“Well, good thing I bring more ladies into the world to make up for myself–,”

Yerim bursts into tears over Seulgi’s crass final comment, after sitting there in silence through this entire conversation. Everyone stops arguing to listen to her sob, “Can we please just stop fighting! I wanted to come here and spend time with Jaeggy, I don’t care that it’s here, I just don’t want to fight!”

Jimin forgets the drama she was attempting to stir up and begins to get teary as well, and you can feel Jaehyun’s shoulders deflate when she reaches out her hand for his. If he does what she wants, they’re absolutely going to know he was holding your legs under the table, which means you have to do something and do it fast. 

You take off your ID and hand it over to Yerim, explaining, “I get unlimited meals because I'm the head of my department, go get whatever you want. The good stuff is a la carte so to get it for free, say you know Doc D in trauma.”

She seems like the kind of girl who would want the ice cream in your freezer that you never eat. You’re guessing it’s a familial thing.

Yerim takes the badge from you, and when she looks at your severe ID photo and extensive list of titles underneath, she warbles through her tears, “D? That’s not your last name?”

“All the interns here call me Doctor Doom because they fail my rotation,” you chuckle.

Jaehyun can’t help his chuckle, either - after being the victim of Doc D once or twice - and his sisters are not immune to his charming laugh. They forget their sadness and giggle along with him, and the more they giggle, the madder Yves gets. When Jaehyun’s laugh transforms into complete cackling even though none of this is that funny, that pushes her about two seconds away from imploding in jealous anger. 

“And honestly, I'm happy you’re all here,” you admit even though you don’t feel it. “I spend ninety percent of my time with people that can’t talk back to me because of anesthesia and the other ten is spent with people that I hate can talk back. So yeah, come around whenever you’re in town. Also, if you’re really missing your family, why don’t you have everyone up at Thanksgiving or Christmas?” You’re rambling more than you should, but they look so starry eyed and happy and Jaehyun is holding your leg so tightly that you make yourself keep going, “I never have anyone here because I don’t talk to my mom or dad, but it’s cool. You guys can stay in my house if you need to fit everyone.”

You don’t care that their presence gives you anxiety because you’re going to be working double overtime during the holidays anyways. But it’ll be nice for them to have each other, especially so since Jaehyun can’t go home because of football. The suggestions just now were all for him, it’s always for him. 

“But we have Christmases at home with both our families,” Yves starts to protest, but her words peter off into emptiness when she realizes no one cares. 

The Jeong trio is too wrapped up in the glowy sentiments of your idea, picturing the brisk freshness of Minnesota's winters and the cozy fake fire that you’ll put up on the TV, the cooking Jaehyun and his mom will do. Snuggling by the tree, gorging yourself on pie, Secret Santa exchanges, you never do any of this around the holidays, but maybe… maybe… maybe this year. 

You glance at Jaehyun to get him to encourage his sisters to agree and let this fight go, but he’s staring at you, glasses slightly fogged with the reflective emotion in his eyes, mouth parted in mute reverence. You want to luxuriate in this unknown feeling and appreciate that it makes you want to just, like, giggle until your face explodes. But you end up getting anxious and small in the corner of the booth, because he’s staring for a bit too long.

Luckily, you’re saved - not by Seulgi, but by.... Yerim, when she lets out a massive, honking sob, “Y-you don’t talk to your dad?”

Ow. Even a faded sting still hurts.

“We stopped talking when I was thirteen.” You’re going to leave it there, yet feel obliged to add on, “I think I turned out okay.”

The girls look at you with something other than contempt for once, and you pinpoint it as recognizable awe. Living a life like yours is possible while still lacking contact with the same absent parent they have. They can stand on their own two feet without their brother holding them up and can feel confident in themselves no matter what. Which is funny, considering they’re way more successful and well-adjusted than you were at their age.

Your first two years of med school, you were legitimately a crazy person.

“You’re, like, girlbosses forever, yeah?” you tack on with a weak pump of your fist.

Jaehyun got you that sign because of his sisters, you think they'll like the bit of solidarity even if it isn't fully genuine. 

And they love it.

There’s not a trace of tears left on the two of them, and they reach hands for each other's and clothesline a very unhappy Yves in between. Jimin says with more joy than you’ve heard from her since knowing her, “OMG, we love a good girlboss! Thanks, y/n!,” and Yerim actually smiles at you for once, “Yeah, thanks y/n! Come on Evie, let’s get food for everyone.”

Thank goodness, you were about a millimeter away from the danger zone. 

They get up and leave, though Yves looks like she wants to do anything but leave Jaehyun in your nasty clutches. As soon as they’re not looking - not even walking away, just not looking - Jaehyun reaches for your face so he can kiss you. Your worries tumble away in the protection of his sweet mouth, which gets caught on the words he wants to say, “I lo-,” before he dips in for another public kiss and murmurs, “I like you so much, I'm so grateful for you.”

You grasp his wrists to hold yourself steady and in a crashing rush, you feel so many feelings for him you can’t put them into scientific language. In girl language, all of them are deep and scary and wholly thrilling, and only multiply upon realizing said feelings prodded you into admitting your deepest personal secrets to strangers you don’t know.

Jaehyun yelps out of nowhere and turns and glares behind him - at Seulgi, who just poked right between his ribs while muttering, “What am I? Chopped liver?”

He whirls back your way to babble out his question, “OMG, is that what you’re doing today?”

Seulgi doesn’t have practice holding in her laughter at some of the more misguided things he says. She lets out a belly-churning note of cackling and then slams her lips shut, which makes Jaehyun even more confused, genuinely thinking that you’re about to conduct a surgery together chopping up a liver.

Which, considering you have a procedure with Dr. Do scheduled later today to take out a liver carcinoma… he’s not far off. 

“It’s an expression, Jae.” You boop his nose, and then scoff at your best friend over his shoulder, “She just wants attention.”

Seulgi huffs goodnaturedly and shakes her head at him, like, what about me? And then Jaehyun just… he hugs her, throws his arms around her in a embrace that feels so genial and warm even from the outside. Even where you’re sitting you can see her face going red in embarrassment as he says, “Thanks for everything you did, we needed that! I knew I picked the right one out for her, hehe!” 

This strange cloud of emotion chooses that moment to unleash its downpour right over you, and while Jaehyun and Seulgi are happily babbling about something you can’t keep up with, you excuse yourself to 'take a page.' AKA escape the cafeteria and take a moment to yourself in the quiet hallway storage closet. 

Wow.

You really, really, really like Jaehyun, more than yesterday, more than the entire time you’ve been seeing each other, and definitely more than you’ve ever liked anyone else. Now you're grappling with trying to ignore that the strange cloud of feeling was nothing but pure pragmatism - to end this before it gets too serious. 

Because sharing a life with him means knowing how to deal with situations like what just happened, pushing yourself to be comfortable in the uncomfortable tension that comes with his relationship with his siblings. Even though Jaehyun is so wonderful that he’d attempt to care of it all for you, it goes deeper than just his sisters. Yes, you want to be married, you want to have a family someday, but you find yourself getting stuck in the shackles of the life you used to live more than ever. You haven't been thirteen in a long time, but you still have that thirteen-year-old's problems. 

You and Jaehyun's sisters (and you and him by proxy) have a lot more in common than you thought. You cannot fathom why that is so terrifying instead of relieving. 

There are too many things to think about, and you don't have time for any of it.

There's no feasible reason for a page to take this long - Seulgi will know and tell on you to Jaehyun - so you head back to the cafeteria. When you don’t see him in the booth anymore, you end up spotting him in the food line with his siblings, the Jeong trio loudly squabbling over the last pack of chocolate pudding. He’s blocking off Yves without realizing she’s standing as an outsider to their bickering and trying to get in. While you’re not worried about her, you’re still a little weirded out he didn’t say anything to her. Not that you thought he would, considering you played along with the 'we're not dating' ruse hard…

But paying Jimin not to say anything about you kissing was even more strange.

It’s his life, though, not yours, and you want to give him the respect he’s always given you. 

You head back to the booth because this lunch hangout was supposed to have a different purpose, and Seulgi is beaming. She’s a happy and kind person, but you’ve never seen her like this. You don’t have to wait for an answer because you sit down and she just announces, “I totally approve!”

“I was gone for two seconds,” you mumble. “What could’ve happened?”

She leans in with such a girly smile and whispers, “He spent those two seconds asking me what he should cook for you when you’re home.” Your sinus rhythm skips about half its beats, then she holds your hand and reassures you, “I wouldn’t worry. He’s obsessed. He said you looked pretty in your scrubs. Pretty.”

“No one looks pretty in scrubs." Literally no one. Patrick Dempsey doesn't count because he wasn't actually a doctor.

You had the exact thought, too, that when Jaehyun magically appeared at the table, he would be grossed out by your appearance and you couldn't have been more wrong. 

“I know. He’s a keeper,” Seulgi points out, as if you hadn’t already had that thought a hundred million gazillion uncountable times. 

He really is. And that’s scary. 

—

You end up giving Jaehyun a kiss goodbye by the ER doors, because you really can’t wait another two days to do so. And when you turn to head to the surgical floor, Jaemin is right there with a set of blood tests to hand off to Zhang that he almost drops on the floor instead.

He gasps, you panic, he starts to run, but you run faster… and block the door. 

And that’s how you end up bribing two of your interns with the same surgery, just to keep the same secret. You can’t risk it. 

—

For an athlete, it never gets any less amusing to you how out of breath he gets after you have sex. He’s been huffing and puffing with red cheeks on your pillow for five minutes, but he’s also doing it on purpose to get you to kiss him some more.

When you lean in close to give him one, Jaehyun tackles you back down onto the mattress so you’re in between his arms, nowhere to go but to lay there and receive his whining, “This week lasted foreverrrrrrr! My insurance isn’t suspicious because I’ve been good, so next time you’re on call pleaseeeee let me come to the hospital!”

“You’re just saying this after sex to get me to cave, hmm?” He makes it so hard for you to be a professional doctor and not a lazy, smitten human being. 

“I can’t help it that I want to spend all my time with you,” he declares, leaving you no choice but to lose yourself in his kisses again. 

There’s been so much kissing, and just sex in general - some sloppy, dirty, good fun that you both needed after that anxiety-inducing week. You’ve been home for twelve hours and about ten of those were sex and the other two were kissing and talking about having sex. You know, you know, there’s more to life than just that, but damn if it isn’t worth the wait. 

“I lo–,” he starts to say something with his eyes closed, but his mouth gets caught up in your hair and you can’t hear him until he brushes it away to kiss your ear, “I’ve never liked a person as much as I like you."

“Me neither,” you breathe. 

The sex is incredible and nothing like you’ve ever had before, but the connection you have with him surpasses that in every regard. During those intimate moments he never fails to hold your hand or make you feel centered within him, and after them, he is dedicated to you and you only. Every single part of every single day is made up of him making you feel just the littlest bit less alone. That is the best part of all of this. And it’s cliché to say it, but…. you’ve never had that kind of connection with anyone.

The more time that passes the more you start prioritizing tiny things about Jaehyun into the pro or the con column. Lately, you’ve been finding everything has been turning into a pro, because there’s just… nothing you don’t like about him. There’s no cons, even his family. Maybe his ex-girlfriend would count (just a little!) but you’re giving her a pass because you understand for yourself that not being with him is an impossible task. 

You return to your place in his arms, and Jaehyun is still staring at you with an entire glossy galaxy of plucked dew gathered in his eyes, and then he kisses you. A different kind of kiss from the ones that's filled these hours, more slick and lovey and perfect than you’re used to, and you feel your body give a great big tremble when he pulls away.

“What was that for?” you whisper

“I meant what I said,” he whispers back, “I'm so grateful for you.”

Not used to receiving such outright and genuine expressions of affection, you revert back into shy deflecting, “Just because I give you sex and desserts?”

He shakes his head, getting emotional out of nowhere as he explains, “You….. you look out for my family without even realizing you’re doing it?”

Is he talking about that strange lunch? That was a connection held together by a wisp of thread, and it wasn’t that much of an effort for you to bring up your father. It'll always hurt but it's ultimately another wound in passing for you. But you're aware it's not so for them and their family, so you hoped that by bringing it up, it could eventually become one of those scars they'd barely think about.

“Feels weird, but I guess I see myself in them,” you admit as you look him in the eye where you're sharing the pillow, hoping he knows you're taking this seriously, “Seemed like you were a bit overwhelmed though? Didn’t think that would be the case.”

You thought he would’ve been beside himself with happiness to see them.

Jaehyun shrugs a bare shoulder, looking so, so, so young as he traces out a pattern on your arm and quietly says, “It’s tiring. I love being there for them, I love doing it. But I'm in the middle of the season, I'm dating someone....” he squeezes your arm on purpose and your giggle makes him smile, “....I'm living my life and it takes a lot out of me to have to pause and do these things for them. It makes me feel guilty that I'm not at home, then I'm guilty for feeling guilty since I don’t feel bad or want to go, and it…. 

He can’t fill in the end of his sentence, and somehow you just know what it’s supposed to be, “Makes you miss your dad?”

Playing that role must be hard for him. 

Jaehyun starts to tear up and you cuddle him close to tell him it’s okay if he wants to stop. But he wants to keep going, “I barely remember him other than Mama left for not treating her and the girls like he should, but I… just… I never had time to figure out my feelings. No one ever did this for me. Maybe that’s why I went so hard at football?

“Was that his thing?” You never put it together, you thought Jaehyun’s profession was borne out of his love for a childhood sport that he just happened to be good at. But this whole thing has changed for you… Jaehyun does this because it’s the one connection he has left to his dad. He must’ve been fighting to keep it connected for so long.

“Yeah. It was,” he admits, “Don’t know what I’m going to do when it’s over, but maybe it’s time.”

Are you supposed to tell him now that you thought about going to business school after med school, just in the hopes it would make your dad happy? Or should you just make him feel better with mindless platitudes? 

“I think….. that that connection is always going to be there, whether you’re playing or not.” If Jaehyun is here or in Georgia, if he plays football or not, he’s still going to know exactly who he is and what he’s made of. You poke at his sternum and get one fraction of his frown to disappear, then you finish, “Even if they choose to take advantage of your sweet heart sometimes, your siblings do know that you love them in a way they deserve. They should understand if you need them to not come running across the Atlantic Ocean,” (the ocean! crazy!), “to see you. What do you think?”

He has given them so much love and never asked for anything in return. He can request a moment of peace every now and again and be fine.

Jaehyun stares at you with big, fat tears in his eyes and he sniffles, “I’ve never had anyone do this for me before.”

You’re about to argue that’s surely not the case. But with the way his ex-girlfriend clung onto him and goaded on his sisters, it must’ve worn him down more than a partner's behavior should.

“XO,” you murmur. “We make a great team.” 

Jaehyun smiles full to the brim, dimples and all, and you swear you need your stethoscope since your heart is going crazy right now.

Because you’re too happy… and that makes you too nervous.

This feels too serious too fast, yet at the same time it feels exactly right, and now you don’t know if you’re supposed to go with your head or your heart. The path used to be so easy to walk on before, and he’s made it far too treacherous.

—

“Chief of trauma, to the ER for a lightning strike.”

You hear the overhead page and get happy for once that you’re going to have to go down there - the night nurse doesn't actually need you, she just remembered the little clue you gave her 'in case someone asks for me.’ You gather up a plate from your office fridge and run down the flight of stairs to the ER. As soon as Jaehyun, bundled to the brim in his winter clothes, sees you from afar, he waves like a little snow angel. 

Your logic train went like this. Jaehyun is a Viking, Thor is a viking-adjacent character, he's the god of lightning, you treat lightning strikes every so often but not often enough. Perfect.

Someone on the floor brought in an ice cream cake for a birthday and you stole a piece to give to him on his way home before you spent an overnight shift at the hospital. Once you run outside into the tender snow sprinkling the ambulance bay and put the plate in his hands, Jaehyun looks sooooo happy, the greatest thing you could do for him is think of a sweet treat for you to share.

You kiss him on the cheek and warble, “See you tomorrow, I can’t wait–,” 

“Hold onnnnn,” he whines, catching your wrist and keeping you there with him. “Do you have a break right now?”

Your pager has been suspiciously silent, now that you think about it….

He grins as soon as you don’t respond. 

You sit outside the ER on a bench so that Jaehyun doesn’t get charged for trespassing. His purple Vikings-issued puffer coat is so huge you can literally perch in his lap inside of it and not feel cold, good because you ran out here in just your scrubs, not thinking that you’d be conned into staying. Your first mistake - you can never say no when it comes to him. 

You press your cold nose into Jaehyun’s cheek and he yelps at the surprise attack of frost and shivers. You cuddle him as close as possible, holding his waist and letting him settle his hand firmly on your butt just to make up for it, then giggle in sweet apology, “Not used to Minnesota winters yet, my country boy? Let’s do something warm when I get home.”

They are particularly brutal. You don’t know if he realizes what’s in store for him.

“I love the snow, though!" Just as soon as he says that a massive gust of snowflakes blows into his face, getting caught up in his eyelashes and bangs and causing him to splutter. His teeth start chattering and he looks like the cutest snuggliest boy trying to be brave, making your heart so warm in turn that you can barely feel the snow. “I have an idea that builds off of yours. A snowman idea?” Isn’t it a snowball technically? Whatever, he’s so cute, “Let’s take a vacation when I'm done playing. Somewhere warm.” 

“Like your home?” He’s not sly. You just didn’t think he would be ready for you to meet his family after bribing his sister—,

“No, like Brazil,” he picks it out of a hat, warm and beachy and the exact opposite of what he’s feeling right now. “I want to get roasted in the sun so I’ll never be cold like this again. Doesn’t matter though, as long as you’re with me, chickpea.”

Jaehyun talks in such grand terms all the time. Like, even though that is months away, he's confident you’re going to say yes and be his and go wherever he wants…. and that is unfortunately enough to sway you.

He gives up on being macho and shivers with his whole body's force. Smitten, you hug him even tighter, hope your warmth can be transferred into him, and pull up the hood of his jacket so your faces are snug as a bug in a rug in there. Now hidden from the world - any person who exited the ER would have no idea this amorous couple was you and your neighbor - you sigh against his cheek, “Brazil sounds nice.”

You kiss Jaehyun in the middle of the falling snow, and it feels like a dream. No, like nothing you could’ve dreamt up–, 

Screaming laughter rips through the silence and your noses knock together as you sit up to see what the commotion is about… only to see Sungchan and Minju having the time of their lives out in the parking lot. He’s throwing snow at her as she pushes him around in a wheelchair, both of them  bundled up in his #81 hoodie. They look so happy and carefree and like they're kids again, and you just watch them instead of springing into doctor mode. This is a pure slice of life that they haven’t been able to live for a long time. They should experience it to the fullest.

But when she revs them around a corner like they’re playing speed racer, they screech to a halt when they spot you two, and Sungchan comes quite close to launching out of the wheelchair and into a fresh pile of snow. You’re so surprised you don’t think to climb out of Jaehyun’s arms, because… it’s obvious what you were just doing.

Jaehyun pokes his head out of the hood to see what’s going on without his glasses fogging up, and in slow motion, you watch as Sungchan and Minju register who you’re sitting with. They both gasp, then hurry to do the exact same ritual you’ve seen before. She runs in front of him to press her nose into his - Easy, Sungie sung. I’ve got you, Minnie min - and they calm their breathing together because… because it’s Jaehyun and this is the moment they’ve been waiting for. 

He holds you close and laughs in obliviousness, “What’s going on? Why’s that guy look just like me?”

“This is um… this is the patient I told you about,” you whisper so only he can hear.

The patient who turned your relationship with medicine inside out, which then turned your heart into a vigorous whirlpool of emotions. Seeing Sungchan in that bed and being worried it was Jaehyun instead was the first sign your feelings had changed for good, you just didn’t want to take it for what it was back then. 

“OMG, no way!” Jaehyun bursts out in recognition. “That’s so crazy, he really looks like me!”

Sungchan is about to freak out. Minju is nearly in tears. Neither of them can make words. 

“Are you out here alone? You shouldn’t be,” you scold them playfully. 

Without breaking his stare at Jaehyun, Sungchan points over at the door where Jeno is standing guard - or is supposed to be doing so. Because instead, he is watching with his eyes bugged out, not able to process you sitting on an…. NFL superstar’s lap. Your skull knocks into the crown of Jaehyun’s head when you groan in frustration, and it’s never been more clear that you're not just having a platonic chat with your neighbor right now. 

Sigh, you have to do this again.

“Hey, Lee, come over here!” You snap your fingers outside of the coat but make no move to leave its warmth.

Jeno’s head hangs and he shuffles over without protest, surely wondering if he’s going to get in trouble for the rule breaking or the eavesdropping or both. He hasn't yet realized that he somehow managed to last the longest out of his colleagues in dodging the threat that's approaching. 

You’re tired of being professional when it comes to this situation, so you get straight to the point and hope he understands as a fellow adult, “If you keep your mouth shut about this, I will, A, not spill on you for letting patients out without a consent form, and B, let you in on this case’s surgery.”

Jeno has never nodded so fast in his time at Mayo, you’re sure. 

As he scurries back over to the door, Sungchan frowns just like Jaehyun does when he's upset, and then protests, “Hey! You’re using me to bargain!”

You’re using him as an important bit of leverage that will keep all of you safe in the ways that you need. That’s the logic you'll use if you’re ever called out. 

“Sorry, I'm the head of the department. I can do whatever I want,” you tease.

All three of them get a good chuckle out of that one.

When she realizes they won’t have to go back inside, Minju closes Sungchan’s coat tighter around his hospital gown then sits in his lap to keep the warmth huddled in. A tiny rip of inexplicable emotion slices through your chest when you realize you’re both doing the exact same thing… only they’re in a relationship and you’re not.

Then Sungchan can’t hold it in any longer, behind his girlfriend’s barrier of protection he can finally freak out the way he likes, “Is that……. Is that really? Am I really? OMG, I told myself I would be cooler, but Jaehyun Jeong! Hi! I can’t believe it!”

You can feel Jaehyun’s puffy chest soar right into your back. He has more than one fan, no matter what he thinks. 

“I told you he was my neighbor!,” you giggle, leaning your head right on Jaehyun’s as he gives your neck the lightest snowflake of a kiss. 

“Neighbor?” Sungchan scoffs, “I'm not that dumb.”

“We hadn’t started dating then.” Feeling free enough to do so, you nuzzle your nose straight into Jaehyun’s cheek and bask in the sound of delight he makes.  It’s funny to think of how nervous you were while having that conversation about just throwing things to the wind and confessing your feelings. Everything about being with him felt so epic and impossible and now, here you are, having it as an integral part of your everyday life.

“So, you did what we said, then?” Sungchan and Minju lean against each other, all satisfied that you’re with someone sweet like they said you should be… and not the person they had to pull teeth in convincing you not to entertain.

“What were you two scheming about without me being there?” Jaehyun pinches your thigh, then says with utmost confidence like he doesn’t think you know this, “Humans can’t read minds.”

Of course they can’t.

You’ll thank him later for telling you that fact. You have a lot of things to thank him for, it seems.

“I can’t slander the guy who's going to do my heart transplant if I have one." Sungchan says it enough sly vagueness that everyone is aware of who you’re talking about. Just as soon as you feel the slightest tension in Jaehyun’s grasp, the teen puts it to ease in a masterful way, “But I just suggested that she could make better choices and it looks like she has. You’re my favorite football player of all time.”

Yeah, yeah, you’ll never cop to a pair of teenyboppers being right. 

Jaehyun is so surprised he points to himself and warbles, “You know me? You play?”

In the time you’ve known him, this is the only instance outside of your conversations that Jaehyun doesn't get uncomfortable discussing his job. He seems prouder than proud of it for once. 

“Number eighty-one at UM, baby! GO GOPHERS!!!!!!!” Sungchan yells at the top of his lungs, pulling out his hoodie for Jaehyun to see.

You don’t know how the ER doctors don’t come running and how he doesn’t knock his wheelchair over while he puts on this little show of school pride for his idol. He wheezes and coughs and gets snow in his mouth and Jaehyun laughs out loud because he’s so entertained.

Then something specific niggles into his brain a bit further and he blurts, “What heart transplant?”

This feels like it’s breaking a few rules. Even though you’re not Sungchan’s doctor and he’s the one who likes discussing this information, you’re not sure how they’d feel discussing this at length with a practical stranger–,  

“Yeah, gotta get my ticker fixed before I go to the NFL,” Sungchan confirms without a care, lowering the collar of his jacket so Jaehyun can see the scars littered there from previous procedures. His face goes scrunched and fierce as he growls in a challenge, “That's the only way I'll be able to beat you in YPC next season!”

Their connection is undeniable.

One little acronym and Jaehyun has found a friend for good, a boy that he’s going to latch a part of his heart onto and drag across the shared finish line. 

“Aaaaand to take care of our babies, hmm?” Minju interrupts with a knowing eyebrow raise as she puts her boyfriend’s hand on her belly. “Not just for playing your silly game?”

It literally sounds like the two of you. You know, if you and Jaehyun had somehow met and fallen for each other back in college.  

“Babies?! OMG, Congratulations!!!” Jaehyun blows out your ear with his loud enthusiasm, giving the other couple his biggest, crescent-moon eyed, dimpled smile, and his best, best, best wishes, “I really hope your heart transplant goes well.” He takes it further and gets up to shake Sungchan’s hand with you coming along for the ride, still cuddled in his coat. When the boy stares at him in confusion - though he’s not exactly complaining - Jaehyun tickles your side as you sit back down and drawls, “You made this one realize she liked me. Thank you.”

How many times is the coroner going to have to list a cause of death for you as pure embarrassment?

This is getting to be too many now. 

“By the way, how are you paying for this?” Jaehyun wonders, surely thinking more about insurance these past few months than he has in his life. 

“Our parents,” Sungchan answers, and Minju finishes the rest of it, the realistic part, “Plus insurance, and some loans.”

Ugh, you know this story all too well. This is pretty much the only time you feel guilty for the exorbitant salary you make, yet there’s nothing you can do about it. Healthcare in America fucking sucks, and you hope that as Surgeon General, you could maybe put some pressure on Congress to do something.

“Nah, I'll pay for it,” Jaehyun says easily.

Three echoed gasps ring throughout the ambulance bay. 

Your vision is hazy with dark worry as you hold his chin so softly in your hand and tell him, “You can’t…….. It’s a conflict of interest because I'm involved.”

Even though you’re not the lead surgeon on this case, it would not look good for A) you, B) the chief, or C) the hospital board to have the person you’re dating (a celebrity!) fork over an exorbitant amount of cash to help two virtual strangers. It would look like you coerced him into it, though you never could’ve thought of such a thing for him to do on your own. 

He ducks his chin so your hand is trapped in his warmth, and continues on so unbothered, “It’s fine, it’ll just be a donation!”

Minju and Sungchan are already crying. She's a big ball of weepy mess, while he tries to hold it together for the both of them and only lets the silent tears fall through his protesting, “No, no, please. It’ll just make us feel guilty and it’s a lot of money and it’s something we have covered, please don’t.”

“Okay, well….” Jaehyun looks around the snow-filled air for something to take the place of hundreds of thousands of dollars, looks at you, looks at his wallet, looks at his car parked across the street, then down to the bench beside him. He holds out his duffle and says, “Take my football stuff then. Just throw out my jockstrap.” You let out this totally shocked laugh of surprise, but Jaehyun is determined to keep going, “You can have all of the rest of it. Cleats, pads, whatever. Get you ready for next year, I do need an heir when I'm gone.”

Jaehyun has the sweetest soul. How does he decide to do these marvelous, lovely little things just because he wants to?

The two of them look at each other, then blurt at the same time, “Wait, what?” 

And you realize in that exact moment that no one in the general public knows he’s retiring. It’s a secret he kept and shared with the people most important in his life… plus you. He told you that the first week you knew each other, you were that important to him from that moment?

You understand he’s always liked you, but that feels, that feels..... different. 

Sungchan shivers in the middle of your ruminating, and it's the kind of shiver that rattles him from the inside out and is not a consequence of a passing breeze. As soon as you see that, doctor mode is back on.

“Dr. Lee!” Jeno’s footsteps sound as soon as you call for him, and he races over to hear your instructions, “They need to go in, it’s been over half an hour and nightly checks are about to start.” Sungchan audibly whines and Minju makes puppy eyes at you, rubbing her belly on purpose in hopes it’ll get you to cave. Even when Jaehyun pokes at you, you stand strong and shake your head, “Nope, I'm going to be pissed if you catch a cold. Go inside.”

“Yes, Mom.” Sungchan sneers at you and you have to clutch the boundaries of professionalism to remember that you cannot give him the middle finger. He douses you with cloying guilt and tries some sweet, sweet begging that you know well, “Can you bring him around more often? I feel like my heart is healing just being here.”

He is not slick at all. That’s another thing they have in common.

Because Jaehyun races to oblige, “Yes, I will–,”

“Take his sweaty things and we’ll work this out,” you cut him off, because you do not want Jaehyun getting any ideas about coming here to the hospital all the time ‘just to see Sungchan.’

Then you’d never get any work done. 

They huff and puff and eventually have no choice but to take the duffle and let Jeno wheel them inside, though they wave and wave at Jaehyun until they’re out of sight. And, finally alone, you get to cuddle him for one more second before you resign yourself to the horrid idea of going back to work and being awake for the next sixteen hours. 

“Wait, a heart transplant?” Jaehyun has a thought come up in his swirl of quiet existence and whispers so innocently through the howling storm, “Chickie, did we get one of those? I can feel you here.” 

He places his hand over his sternum and right into his heart, dimples poking out in muted contentment at his wonderful idea.

It’s just…. the sweetest thing ever.

Moving, almost.

You feel yourself tear up in the fraught, strange instance of sadness that comes, and you gather up Jaehyun’s face in your hands when you whisper, “No, my country boy.” A medical explanation that has come from you time and time again gets caught up in a stranglehold of reluctance at your throat, “Someone, um, someone has to die.” His sorrowful little gasp is a lance straight through yours, and you quickly race to kiss him, to hold him close and let your affection erase his imminent secondhand grief, “We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s be happy, okay?”

You don't want to think about anyone dying, because you will undoubtedly be forced to re-live that awful nightmare you had about him. You do not want to imagine Jaehyun dying in your arms when you’re here with him and you’re both alright. 

“O-okay,” he sniffles, too upset by his own genius. "I'm happy, promise. You make me happy."

He wraps you up in his arms so tight you scarcely have room for your chest to expand with any breathing. The only reminders of reality you seek solace in are the frigid, jeweled ghosts of snowflakes that come to decorate your cheeks, that fall apart in the warmth that you share. You choose to only think about being there with him, and how you are convinced you have never been this happy in your entire life.

—

You’re planning to check in on Sungchan even though you don't have time right now, because Jaehyun asked you to and you couldn’t say no. Sigh. You knew this was going to happen. 

Anyways, when you’re still a good distance away from the door, there’s an audible ruckus coming from inside it. One of Ningning’s pigtails comes into view and then you manage to spot half the intern class stuffed in there along with a handful of residents and attendings that all should be working their own caseloads. You clear out the stragglers and you’re about to tell the interns to get back to their business when…

“Heeeeeeeey, Doc. Miss me?”

tbc.

Chapter Text

You are struck speechless upon seeing Minho smiling at you from there at the head of the hospital bed.

You:

A) forgot he was gone,
B) forgot when he was coming back, and,
C) basically just forgot about him completely.

You have no idea how you’re supposed to react to this surprise in front of a full room, all of whom know about you and Jaehyun.

“To what do we owe this honor?” You keep it cool and professional - and not flirty, nowhere close to flirty. Then you try to ignore how odd this feels in comparison to how easy it is to be carefree and silly with Jaehyun without having to be concerned about appearances.

“Well, I hopped a PJ from Alaska because….” Minho waits for the anticipation to build which is honestly cruel, “…we have a heart coming in for you!”

His announcement detonates a huge commotion, as it should.

Sungchan gasps and holds Minju close, and she starts bawling her eyes out while hugging him and her belly. The interns are so happy that they clap and hug each other as well and Minho, the savior he is, is then laden with deserving praise, Thank you DC, thank you! We can’t believe this isn’t a prank, we’ve been waiting forever!

And you stand there with a polite smile on your face.

You don’t want to vocalize your hesitation, considering you have no scientific basis to be hesitating. A transplant is the standard of care for his cardiomyopathy. But you just don’t know, you don't exactly feel good about this. You hold on until Ningning glances at you pointedly in the middle of the celebration, and you remember the data you were supposed to show Minho when he returned - not thinking it was going to be for the transplant itself.

This is going to be drama.

You clear your throat and waste no time, “Transplant, are you sure? You don’t want to consider any alternative treatments? There’s some research that suggests—,”

“I’m the lead surgeon on this case, it’s my case, and we have a heart,” Minho cuts you off, keeping a cheerful smile on his face so that the vibes aren’t ruined. “We’re not changing the course of treatment unless the patient wants it.”

You and he both know Sungchan doesn’t know any better and won’t listen to alternatives. He’s too focused on playing football next year, and Minju is too stressed out with the babies to realize there might be other options. You made a mistake in trying to have this conversation right here in this commotion, so you grab Minho’s elbow and pull him into a corner to talk amongst yourselves.

“I’m genuinely not trying to antagonize." You try to find a way to articulate this unfamiliar worry, “There's been some research on using heart failure drugs to treat cardio—,

“Dollface.” Hearing him call you dollface is beyond bizarre after more than a month of chickpea and sweetheart and babyyyyyyy! You hope you don’t make a rude face while Minho is sweet-talking you, “He wants the transplant, we have the heart and I have a one hundred percent success rate with my transplants. Why wait?”

Unfortunately, there's no reason to argue and the clinical trial is already a gamble to even get into. If Sungchan wants to play football as a professional, this might be for the best.

He turns on dazzling surgeon face and begins conducting this symphony, “Okay, the heart will be here in an hour so we have to get everyone prepped! It’s happening, are you ready?!—,”

You interrupt one last time, you have to, “The interns get to go.”

You don’t think you’re ever going to come close to making those three as happy as they are right now.

But Minho protests, “I work alone, just me and my team–,”  

“They’ve earned it,” you protest his protesting. “They’ve been with Sungchan every step of the way.”

You made them a promise you want to keep. You won't be able to take their little sad faces following you around if this doesn’t go the way you want. Not to mention, selfishly, if they don't get into the surgery, they’ll have no reason to keep their mouths shut after this.  Minju turns on the pleading waterworks and then she nudges Sungchan to go to bat for them too - which he does, in the same laidback way that makes being around him so easy, “They’ve been great! They should get to be in my surgery!”

Then she looks over at you and wonders, “Are you going to be there, too?”

You would normally never turn down an opportunity to be in a surgery. Never. But the way his blonde hair is fanned against his pillow reminds you of the way you sleep every night, to the point that you get woozy at the idea of seeing it on the table, even if it is covered up.

“I think I'm a little too close to be in there,” you chuckle. “I trust Dr. Choi, though. He’s a good doctor.”

You believe that, despite your personal feelings towards the man. You have no reason to anticipate anything going wrong in this procedure, which is why you feel so weird that you think it will. 

Minju clutches her boyfriend’s shoulder when he starts to chuckle and ends up coughing, and then finishes his unspoken thoughts on his behalf, “Haha, I guess so! I mean we did meet your boyfriend the other day and you don’t really do that with your doctors–,”

Every single person in the room freezes.

The interns clutch their papers close, avoiding eye contact with each other yet giving you individual, subtle glances of reassurance. They’re all thinking that they’re the only person who knows and are going to keep your secret to stay on your good side. But the moment Minju spilled the beans, your brain-body connection was frozen and then severed straight in two. 

“Boyfriend?” Minho bites out. He’s not happy to hear this (technically untrue) piece of news, and it shows. 

Not clued in at all to the tension, Minju just nods and chirps, “Yes! The cutest boy ever except for Sungie…” The whole time, the interns are freaking out trying to get her to shut up and Sungchan himself is batting her leg to silence her from spilling the beans.

Now this dramatic change in your personal life is common knowledge, very evenly and coolly - not a good sign - Minho suggests, “Dr. y/l/n, maybe you should scrub in?” 

He’s going to use that eight hours to grill you into oblivion. No thanks. 

This whole situation is so fucked up and you feel slimy utilizing a patient’s loved one as an emotional shield. Yet, you sling an arm around Minju to quiet her with a gentle hand, then use her as a point of focus, “I have patients, and someone has to be around to make sure the babies are okay without their dad.”

She tears up, nodding in tender agreement and Sungchan sends you a smile that is laden with relieved gratitude. After, you try to turn your face into an expression of truce, but Minho does not move his an inch. You truly cannot tell if he’s jealous, offended, upset, or a combination of any and all of that. 

“We’ll steal ice cream from the doctor’s lounge and you can sit in the comfiest chair." That suggestion makes her even happier for one moment before the tears start flowing, and that is your cue to shoo the interns out, “Everybody leave so they can have a moment!”

Usually you go right to the OR when the surgeon says they’re ready, but Minju and Sungchan are already weepy and you want them to have a moment with each other. This is heart surgery. This isn’t going in to get a broken arm fixed or a cut stitched up. You hug Minju close, and give Sungchan’s cheek a cute little pinch - not finding any words to share that won’t feel trite - and then you leave them.

Jaemin, Jeno, and Ningning are loitering in the hallway and not talking to each other, stuck in their quests of silent solitude on your behalf. You didn’t hear any final objections from Minho to your suggestion, so you just sigh at them, “Go scrub.” They jolt with surprise, not expecting it to work in their favor, and you laugh to yourself before ordering again, “Go! Don't give him time to change his mind!”

They don’t wait for you to say it a third time and link arms to go sprinting to the surgical floor. You can’t help but be happy for them. Sending your baby ducklings off to their first huge surgery is such an important milestone - even though the gory traumas you’ve subjected them to are all epic and unique, a heart transplant like this is a chef’s kiss, doctor’s pick, resume padder.

Maybe you’ll go get a look at them all scrubbed before–, 

You feel a hand around your waist and it is strange… and not as warm as you’re used to. You're caught there In the middle of the deserted hallway as Minho holds you close with this quaking drop of what almost seems like insecurity. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Just do the surgery,” you sigh.

You don’t want him to look as rattled in the OR as he is now. (Odd, you’ve never seen him rattled, you didn’t think that he was capable of that.)

“Answer me." When he left for Alaska more than a month ago, you had no idea he'd return and then you’d have this iteration of the conversation you'd been dancing around. But there’s nothing you can do to change it, moreover, you do not want to change it. 

“Yes, I was seeing someone,” you answer, before you feel the need to correct, “Am, I'm still seeing him.”

Jaehyun kissed you goodbye when he left on his road trip to California, and you’re going to kiss him hello when he gets back tomorrow.

“Is that your answer to the question I asked you, or the one you asked me?” Minho retorts with the bewildering, heavy query instead of accepting your response. In your head, you think that they’re the same question and thus they deserve the same answer, but you’re too confused and too fragile to say for certain. You were dating Jaehyun and not thinking seriously about anything, because thinking hurt. And now this crossroads is here.

You’re not smart enough for this, you feel crushingly dumb.

He takes his hands off your waist as Chief Kwon arrives out of nowhere, which means this talk is over before it’s even begun. She passes a cool look in between the two of you, and continues on when she deems it safe to without inciting a fight, “Is everyone ready for this? We are going to have a whole load of publicity considering that man’s status as one of Minnesota’s favorite student athletes.”

And as, like, you know…. An actual friend that you made. A little brother. 

There’s never been a clearer difference between you and your colleague than there is now. You suddenly become unable to answer a very simple question, and Minho has no problem clearing his throat and responding to her immediately, “Yes. Of course I am.”

You shouldn’t be surprised that Chief Kwon looks at the two of you with her version of muted shock, and cannot help but wonder, “Are you choosing to tag team this?”

Just as you’re about to ask if they’d like you to scrub and try to make peace here, Minho cuts in and states, “No, I offered but Dr. y/l/n declined.”

You stop yourself from reacting in the nick of time.

What the hell is he on? Is he getting back at you? 

Trying to cull the rage with logic, you remind yourself you did technically decline his offer. You take the rejection with as much grace as you can, “I’ve befriended the patient and his partner past the professional boundaries and think it would be best if I provided a support system instead.” You turn to your colleague and give him the shortest head nod of respect, which he doesn’t seem to appreciate, “Dr. Choi, good luck in surgery. It’s nice to have you back.”

Chief Kwon makes a face that you spot out of the corner of your eye, and you can somehow feel the disappointment in her. But it’s the right choice for you to step away. It would be too much for you to handle if you didn't, and you can't believe you got to this point.

—

[7:37 am] you: S got a heart! Text me back when you are free! XO
[7:37 am] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): i can’t text u back rn will do it when i can! if this is my chickpea, XOXOXO

How does he have an away message set just for you? That’s so funny. It makes you feel much better in the midst of all this dread.

Because it is just horrific. You can hardly swallow your nervous bile as you see your patients and see them again and see them again and then… you can’t put it off any longer. 

The nurses on the cardiac floor have been rotating sitting with Minju, giving her snacks and tissues and whatever she needs while she waits for updates. But you know it’s you that she’s been waiting for, when you brace yourself and head into the private patient lounge, her dread seems to dissipate.  She hugs you and you let her sob into your shoulder, her love-fueled worry staining right into your scrubs. You don’t say anything because there’s nothing you can come up with that won’t leave a scar. You became her friend, it’s not right for you to give her false hope and say something like He’ll be fine, I believe in Minho.

Because what if he’s not fine.  

You can't think about that. 

So you hold her and let her do whatever she needs to process her feelings. You’re good at the patience thing, even if today has not been lending itself to that.

When you’ve been there for a good bit, you notice a delicate crystal vase sitting on the table with her things, filled to the brim with this stunning bouquet of sunflowers and tulips and every other happy flower you could think of. Sitting by its side is a little stuffie shaped like a heart with arms and legs and a big old smile.

You can’t help but ask, “Did your family get you these because they can’t be here?”

You’re not asking to experience the hollowness of not being able to relate. You just… you don’t know, you want to understand. 

“No, they’re on their way. Hard to get here from where they live in Paris, and S’s family is trying to catch a flight from Korea,” she sniffles, hugging you tighter in place of the family that she needs. “The flowers came about an hour ago but I've been crying so hard I couldn’t read the card.”

This somehow feels like you're her family, though, despite her wanting her parents or siblings or in-laws instead. You’re sitting there with this girl crying on your shoulder and your hand over hers so you can feel the babies kicking in her belly, and it’s such a genuine expression of support that you decide you’re going to do anything you can for her.

“Let me read you the note.” You reach behind the stuffie and pull out the square bit of text, then gently nudge her chin to get her to cheer up, “I bet it’s something sooooo smushy, like S must’ve planned this beforehand, huh? It says....... oh."

You go breathless when you see it, because you were wrong… but right.

To: Minnie Min & Sungie Sung -

People where I'm from say bless your heart and they usually do it to be mean LOL hehe. But I really hope so, I hope the heart is blessed :)

Love, Jaehyun.

Your own heart might fall out of your chest. Irony.

“Wait….” Minju can’t believe what you read out loud to her. She blinks the tears out of her eyes, steals the card and reads it herself, then doubles down on the crying, “J-Jaehyun Jeong sent me this? He? He remembered and sent me this? How did he know, did you tell him?”

You feel sheepish and shy as you confirm, “Yes, I couldn’t help myself. Sorry.”

You pushed the boundaries a little and assumed it was okay since Sungchan told Jaehyun everything already and you’re still not his real doctor. You cannot believe that Jaehyun took the time in the middle of his hectic day - that included a full-on NFL game and a flight back from California - to send Minju something from the gift shop just to cheer her up.

But you can. It’s so him.

“What does P S, if you're there, X O mean?” she wonders through another sniffle.

No.

No way.

You snatch the card back as fast as you can and there’s nothing under the message you just read her. She reaches over to flip it in your hands and on the back…. 

PS: if you're there, XO! ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 )  

You. You, you…… you’ve had such an expansive vocabulary for so long. Beyond that, you know how to detail out any and every minuscule thing that could possibly happen to a human body. And you cannot even begin to describe what you’re feeling for Jaehyun right now. It’s huge and incredible and something so, so new. 

“He and I say XO to each other,” you explain through a soft, mushy whisper. “He knew I'd be here, because…… he knows how much you two mean to me.”

Sungchan isn’t just another patient, this isn’t just another surgery that you pretended to assist with to tack onto your list of good outcomes. You got involved, despite never doing so, and this is a final, flourishing bullet point on the long list of moving scenarios that has proved how much Jaehyun genuinely cares.

Minju’s tears evolve into uncontrollable sobbing and she reaches for the stuffie to hug it close, “OMG, I feel so much better!” She sobs and sobs her heart out in tears of relief this time instead of mourning, and nothing you could’ve done for her even compares to what Jaehyun did.  But you still do what you can - hug her and don’t leave her side for another minute.

—

Minho comes out of the operating room an hour earlier than you’re expecting, while Minju is sound asleep on your shoulder.

You want to give her one last moment of peace before her world is potentially shattered forever.

You’re sure the question is written all over your face, so when you look at Minho, he just smiles and nods right away instead of dragging this out. You could've waited two more seconds and gotten the answer yourself, your trio of interns come clomping out right after him, and Jaemin, Jeno, and Ningning are all beaming the exact same way. You’ve grown so tense over the past eight hours that you don’t think your joints are capable of expanding to let you feel any kind of relief. 

Gently grasping Minju’s arm so that she doesn’t freak out in her unconsciousness, you wake her up from her dreamless sleep and try to get her sitting up right. When she’s rubbing her belly and trying to get herself fully present into what's going on, you have to do this - because you need to, even though it's not your right, “He’s alright, he made it.”

She starts sobbing again, on cue.

No questions asked, no further information necessary since her relief is breaking her in two and she's can't handle anything more. She’s already a mess by the time Minho comes over to sit in the seat in front of her and hold her hands. He moves the flowers to the side so he has a clear path to tell her the surgery went perfectly, the heart was perfect, her boy is perfect and they’re going to wake him up in the CICU soon. 

You honestly feel like you’re about to cry, too, the corners of your eyes are burning up despite knowing their professional responsibility is to stay dry. You hold strong until Minho gathers her up and they disappear through the restricted doors together to go see her boyfriend, and the trio of ducklings give you a cheery little thumbs up for fulfilling their dream. When you’re alone again, you have a desperate moment of peace to press your fingertips into your eyes and will those tears away.

You’re good. They’re good.

—

[4:45 pm] you: Everything is okay, he’s okay! 
[4:45 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): i can’t text u back rn will do it when i can! if this is my chickpea, XOXOXO
[4:46 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): Lol^ this message makes me crack up
[4:46 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): BUT OMG IM SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!! HERE’S ME CRYING
[4:48 pm] Jaehyun Jeong ( 。 ♡ ‿ ♡ 。 ): [img68.jpg]

At least you have him, so he can cry for you both. 

—

You watch Minju cry happily over a breathing, sleeping Sungchan late into the night until you can’t stand on your own two feet anymore. You’re not going to go get your stuff, you're just going to head home and spend the night with Jaehyun - cuddle him hard and listen to his heartbeat, cherish that he’s healthy and how lucky you are for that.

You make it off the surgical floor, down to the ER, and are about two steps away from the exit when another hand snags yours. You turn in so much excitement thinking that… that Minho is there holding you? What?

You shoot him a nervous smile and offer up nicely, “Congratulations on the transplant, I'll watch the film.”

You won’t - you don’t need to re-watch what a heart transplant looks like - but it’s the only olive branch you can think of.

“Leaving without me?” he wonders instead, trying to lace his fingers through yours A) like this isn’t a public space, and B) like it’s something you’d usually do.

You attempt to wrestle your hand out of his grasp and then stop when you don’t know how to make it look less rude. You search the pocket of your scrubs for anything, literally anything, that could get you out of this and find some random prescriptions that are definitely old. However, they give you the perfect excuse to unlink your fingers and hand the scripts to the unawares night nurse. You make sure to stuff your hands right into your jacket sleeves after.

Without looking at him, you mumble over your shoulder, “I'm going home, goodnight.”

Another few steps, and….

“L-let me walk you there,” Minho calls after you then races to catch up, which is something he never did.

 You keep walking without stopping, and he follows without hesitating. Just like he was before he went into Sungchan’s surgery, his eyes give the slightest quake of worry at what is unfolding in front of him.

“Never thought I’d see you this rattled about the prospect of not being able to sleep with me.” You just say it outright, you don’t want to dance around him. This talk has to be had because dating someone new has shown you that you can’t pretend like you and Minho don’t have issues anymore.

“Didn’t realize that was going to happen."

“Why?”

You’re genuinely curious.

Is it because he thought you were going to keep sleeping with him forever with no development on the emotional side of things? Since you're supposedly a cold, closed-off individual like he is? You told him what you wanted and he said no so many times it should’ve been a sign for you to get your shit together. He never said you couldn’t see anyone else - why is he surprised that you were able to get everything you asked of him from said anyone else. 

“I don’t know!” Minho’s exclamation startles you silly because you’ve never heard him this panicked. He blows out a low breath and admits, “I didn’t expect to leave for a month and to come back to you with a boyfriend.”