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It’s with heavy breaths and a mildly aching head that Teagan enter’s Zayne’s office.
Well, Dr Li’s office, since he’s technically on the clock right now, but that’s never deterred Teagan and isn’t about to stop him now. He knocks briefly to give his boyfriend a moment’s warning before stepping fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Now, yes, it would usually be frowned upon (at best) for a doctor to treat his own boyfriend, but this was a special case. Between Teagan’s Protocore Syndrome and Zayne’s firm title as the best cardiac surgeon of his generation, exceptions were to be made. So, there Teagan was, hopping up onto Zayne’s desk and leaning forward to smirk at him.
“Good evening to my favourite doctor,” he says, his smile only growing with his words. Zayne sighs good-naturedly.
“Good evening to my most troublesome patient.” He jots something down on a form that Teagan can’t even begin to make heads or tails of. Without looking up, Zayne motions vaguely to Teagan’s torso.
“Off,” he intones. Teagan places a hand against his chest and gasps dramatically, leaning back.
“Doctor Li,” he admonishes. “We are in your office. How can you be so forward?” With a breath that Teagan’s come to recognize as a laugh, Zayne shakes his head.
“The binder, you menace. I know you’ve been wearing it for too long, not to mention through several hunting missions. You are well past the safe wear time.” Teagan grumbles because Zayne’s right, as usual, and begins the awkward process of pulling off his binder without completely stripping bare.
It’s not that Teagan doesn’t trust Zayne . Hell, he trusts the man so much that he’s literally placed his well being and life into Zayne’s very capable hands. It’s just that there’s an almost tangible divide between being home with Zayne and being in the office with Dr Li. Something about the difference stops Teagan from simply peeling off his hunter’s uniform and freeing his ribs from their daytime prison.
After a bit of twisting, turning, and odd contorting, Teagan manages to pull off the binder fully. He takes a deep, loud breath, making a face at the odd feeling of his work uniform against the skin on his chest. He folds the binder and stuffs it in one of his many pockets as Zayne closes his computer for the day.
“Have you been feeling fine?” Zayne asks simply as he pulls his stethoscope from his neck and places the appropriate parts in his ears. With one hand, he takes Teagan’s wrist, pressing two fingers to the pulse point there.
“Amazing as usual,” Teagan replies, though he shudders as the metal of the stethoscope touches the thin fabric of his shirt. A combination of Zayne’s ice Evol and the general chill of the office is enough for Teagan to feel the cold metal even through his clothing. “Bit of weirdness yesterday, but I felt fine as soon as the protofield I was in dissipated.”
“Hm,” is the only response from Zayne. After a moment, he pulls back, placing his stethoscope back around his neck. “Not surprising, since your condition is protocore related. Do try and avoid that class of Wanderer in the future.”
“I will,” Teagan smiles, hooking his legs around one of Zayne’s playfully. Something in those hazel eyes softens, and before Teagan can fully process what’s happening, Zayne runs a hand through Teagan’s hair, front to back. In one smooth motion, he then brings his hand forward to Teagan’s jaw, tipping his face up to kiss him briefly.
And then, as if nothing has happened, as if he didn’t just leave Teagan’s heart fluttering and breath catching and face burning, he turns to take off his white coat and hang it up on the hook on the office door.
“You’re awful,” Teagan chokes out. Zayne glances over his shoulder with a smile.
“I know.”
They decide to go to Zayne’s place that night, the car ride quiet and comfortable. Zayne keeps one hand on Teagan’s knee as he drives, the other firmly on the steering wheel. Teagan had tried, as usual, to get Zayne to backpack on his motorbike, because just once he wants to zip through the streets with his boyfriend’s solid warmth against his back. But nooooo, Dr Li is adamant as ever that the bike is nothing more than a death trap and he’s got no interest whatsoever in sitting on the damned thing.
But, Teagan supposes, this is good too.
He twines his fingers between Zayne’s, lifting his hand up and planting a kiss there. With a soft something in his gaze, Zayne glances at Teagan out of the corner of his eye.
“You shouldn’t distract your driver,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper, taking on that breathy quality that never fails to make Teagan feel a special brand of loved.
“Both hands on the wheel, then,” Teagan says, teasing. He uncurls Zayne’s fingers and guides the hand firmly back to the steering wheel with a pat.
“Hands to ourselves?” Zayne says in a tone that Teagan just knows is going to spell a bit of trouble. “I can do that.” But Teagan’s not to be outdone, and just nods, relaxing further into the seat.
“Yup. And feet. And mouths.” Then, with a joking wiggle of his eyebrows, “And other appendages.” Zayne hums.
“Well, that puts a damper on some plans,” he mutters, tone flat. Teagan feels his cheeks burn as his head whips around to stare at Zayne.
“What plans?” he demands. “We didn’t have any plans.”
“No plans now,” Zayne says evenly. Teagan can’t tell whether or not he’s teasing. He crosses his arms to sulk in his seat as Zayne makes another turn.
“You’re the worst,” Teagan pouts. “Have I told you that?” Zayne laughs, a soft and breathy thing.
“And yet here you sit, in the passenger seat of my car, wearing my jacket and playing with the necklace I gave you.” Teagan blinks. He hadn’t even realized he’d been fidgeting with the thin silver chain around his neck. He drops it back under his shirt with a huff.
But he’s not got any time to try and give Zayne a (half-hearted) silent treatment, because they’re already pulling into Zayne’s driveway. Teagan waits until the car is both in park and has the manual brake locked to unbuckle his seatbelt, knowing that if he doesn’t he’ll get a miniature lecture about ”the car could shift back” and ”it’s just a second to ensure your safety.” It’s not annoying, endearing if anything, but it’s still something Teagan has to keep in mind.
As Teagan leans over into the back seat to gather the bag he’d left in there before coming into the hospital (Zayne had put Teagan’s fingerprint into the lock on his car when they started dating, good heavens does Teagan love his boyfriend), Zayne comes around to open the passenger’s side door.
“Getting a good view?” Teagan jokes as his hinges snag the strap of his back, knowing good and well Zayne’s getting an eyeful of his backside. Zayne only gives a noncommittal hum in response. As Teagan sits back up and shifts to get out of the car, Zayne leans forward as if about to kiss Teagan’s head, but then straightens up abruptly.
“Ah,” he says. “Hands to ourselves.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Teagan spits, and in the next moment he’s dragging Zayne down by his stupid, perfectly-pressed shirt collar for a proper kiss.
It’s not a particularly sensual thing, just a hard press of lips–to-lips to satisfy the swirling mix of frustration and longing and ImissyouImissyouImissyou that burns in an eternal fire inside Teagan’s chest. It’s not Zayne’s fault, not anyone’s fault. It’s just a byproduct of the insanity of life. Teagan’s job as a Hunter often has him running days-long missions with no contact to anyone but his mission partner and maybe his team captain. Zayne’s work has him on call more often than not, sometimes missing date nights for emergency surgeries or getting interrupted in the middle of a quiet moment or a meal together because Akso needs him right then and now.
They pull back at the same time, a tiny testament to how well the two know each other. Zayne smiles, a rare, soft thing, and leans in to press his lips to Teagan’s hair, providing the kiss he teased with just moments before.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asks, voice soft. Teagan gives him a pointed look-over, which earns a flick to the forehead. “You’re insatiable,” Zayne scolds.
“And? You like it.”
Zayne Li is the type to buy packs of instant ramen, only to add all his own seasonings and dump fresh vegetables into the broth.
Of course, Teagan isn’t complaining. He happily scoops noodles into his mouth, hardly waiting for them to cool. Zayne is much less eager but enjoys the meal no less, giving a satisfied hum when he takes his first taste.
It's nice, a treat almost, to get to sit in comfortable quiet and just have an uninterrupted meal together. Teagan goes back for seconds, his lack of concrete schedule having left him with no time to eat since he was dispatched that morning.
(“You’ve lost weight since becoming a Hunter,” Zayne had commented with a frown several weeks back, a gentle hand laid over Teagan’s side. His thumb brushes across the skin there in circles, bringing the slightest pleasant haze over Teagan’s thoughts. “You need to fuel yourself better.” Since then, Teagan has been especially conscious about making up for missed meals.)
Afterward, Teagan pulls Zayne into the living room, two spoons and a pint of ice cream in hand (coffee flavored, because Zayne loves the stuff). They sit on the couch, with Teagan leaning back against the armrest while his legs are slung over Zayne’s lap. Between mouthfuls, they catch each other up on their days.
It’s pleasant. It’s a contrast of quiet and comfort from their hectic days. They talk about everything and nothing until Zayne is glancing down at his watch with a resigned sigh. They both need to be up early again tomorrow, and need to go to bed accordingly.
They eke out the last bit of time in the day. Teagan sits on the counter while Zayne showers, and purposefully leans into his boyfriend while they brush their teeth for the night. When they crawl into bed, both having foregone shirts in the warm Linkon night, Zayne rests his head on Teagan’s bare stomach.
“Gross,” Teagan laughs, pushing him away without an ounce of seriousness. “Your hair is still wet! Get off!” Zayne, the bastard, just hums, hands coming up to grasp Teagan’s sides so he can pull himself even closer.
“If you fall asleep quickly, you won’t feel it,” he smiles, shifting ever so slightly to press a kiss to Teagan’s skin. That earns him an involuntary shudder, and a very voluntary slap to the shoulder.
“Zayne,” Teagan chides. “That tickles.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “And don’t start things you know you’re not going to finish.” Despite his words, Teagan threads a hand through Zayne’s dark hair, ignoring the moisture now in favor of having his hands on his boyfriend.
“I can’t believe I’m being the responsible one here,” he says as Zayne peers up through dark eyelashes. “Sleep.”
“Sleep,” Zayne agrees, thumb moving soothingly back and forth across Teagan’s waist where his hand lays. In return, Teagan scratches at Zayne’s scalp minutely, the other hand resting on his back.
They sink comfortably into the quiet darkness, tiny motions slowing to a stop as they both drift off. The next morning, they’ll rush around each other, hastily getting ready for their days once more. Zayne will lose his badge, and Teagan will realize he doesn’t have a uniform shirt that’s ironed and ready. They’ll laugh at both instances and solve each other’s problems with an easy, loving laughter.
But for now, they sleep, warm against each other’s skin even under the thin bed sheet. For now, they think only of the lovely moment they’re in.