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Her fist raps on the door to his office. Quiet and soft, much as she is, in the deadness of night. It’s hours past the time he should’ve gone home. Like any other night, he’s here late. Unlike most, it’s not an emergency surgery in the later hours that’s kept him. Some bureaucratic nonsense he texted her about earlier in the day got pushed until after surgeries concluded, so he mentioned he’d miss seeing her off when she left. Fortunately for both of them, her duties ran late as well. That, and she didn’t mind waiting another extra hour just to get the chance to see him.
From inside, she can hear him rise from his desk and his dress shoes clack against the floor. Hazel eyes are several inches above hers when she looks up to her superior through the open door.
“Dr. Lee?”
His eyes narrow just the slightest bit, slowly calculating. “Zayne is fine, Hana.”
And past her, he looks into the hallway. The only people left in Akso are the overnight nurses, locked up in their wards, overseeing patients. She smooths down the front of her scrubs, a nervous habit. When there’s no one on the coast, he takes a step back into the comfort and privacy of his office. He doesn’t ask her inside. Really, he doesn’t say a word. But his fingers are on her. Gentle touch of his thumb against her inner wrist as she’s tugged forward into him. His free hand reaches out to push the door closed behind her, not that she can pay it much mind.
His touch is warmer than one would expect. Calluses of the most skilled hands in the city encircle her wrist fully now and lead her several paces away. They stand in the heart of his office now, footsteps quieted by the rectangular rug beneath his desk. It’s a deep navy in her periphery, her focus remains on the hand around hers. When it withdraws, there’s a flicker of nervousness. They shouldn’t be social at the hospital. She shouldn’t be here when she’s not even clocked in. With a current of boldness, she reminds herself they’ve done this before.
He’s not wearing his lab coat but silver frames sit on his nose. He adjusts them when she looks up at the doctor.
“You waited for me?” He asks but seems to already know the answer. When she nods, he’s quick to follow. “Losing sleep isn’t smart with schedules like ours.”
Though stern, she can hear the laced concern that permeates so much of his soft chiding. She picks idly at the cuticle of her pinkie, dry and beaten up from how many times she’s washed her hands scrubbing in and out of surgery. She allows him his brief moment of victory before replying, “you’re up late too, Dr. Lee.”
His lips purse. “Please, call me Z—”
“Then act like we’re not working,” she asserts. It’s the lack of sleep she blames for the bluntness.
Caught, his head tilts forward in understanding. There’s the smallest hint of a smile when he realizes she’s right. He’s broken a rule in that way, acting as though they’re professional when it’s just them alone. Instead of saying anything, he reaches for her hand. Winds their fingers together and holds. With great care, he lifts the back of her hand to his lips. The kiss there is slow and soft. Apology accepted, she smiles.
He lowers their joined fingers but doesn’t let go. Brushing her ponytail off her shoulders, he looks her over. “You didn’t need to wait for me.”
“What if I wanted to?”
He glances to his disorganized desk before returning to her. “Then I’d be grateful.”
“But you haven’t said ‘thank you’ yet,” she nudges.
With free hand, he skims along her jaw until she can lean her cheek into his palm. Cradling her like this, his eyes flicker behind them. Forever watchful, she knows the illicit nature of this gnaws at him. He must decide it doesn’t matter, for he leans in without another second of hesitation. Eyes close and though he hasn’t said he missed her, she can feel it in his kiss. Warm and deep, they embrace. Holding hands stops so he can wrap around the small of her back and press her closer to his body. They share heat tightly bonded and her head slots to the side.
She makes a noise into him when his hand travels over the lower bits of her spine, rubs a path there that makes her shiver. Skin prickles with chills as they pull away and his touch stills. She’s left reeling from it. His lips are slightly wet, glistening in the artificial light overhead. She wonders how she looks— eyes dilated, flushed from a kiss, mouth parted.
Voice thick, he simply says “thank you.”
“Of course,” she whispers.
His hand travels from her back to her hip, rests there for a moment before seemingly remembering where he is. He strokes tendrils of hair from her eyes before adjusting his glasses again. Zayne’s eyes are almost apologetic, tinged with a hint of regret though when he speaks, it’s evident the kiss isn’t what he’s troubled over. He turns his head towards the desk and sighs deeply.
“I’ve nearly finished. I shouldn’t be much longer,” he reassures. They disconnect after several more forlorn seconds. He steps behind the dark, wooden table and gestures to a comfortable looking chair across from him. “You may sit, if you’d like.”
Hana sits before he finishes his sentence. He chuckles as he seats himself, picks up an expensive looking pen, and shifts a packet of documents closer to the lamp on his desk.
Unconcerned with her posture, she shifts in the chair until her knees are hooked over one of the armrests and she can curl up against the back cushion. Resting like this, she’s able to watch him. Slow turning of pages keeps time for a while. The scratching of pen on paper lulls her softly and she finds her eyelids growing heavier as he quietly annotates.
It’s easy being with him in silence. His presence alone is stalwart, makes her feel eased after the stresses of an evening where nothing happened as it should. Small mistakes made, unexpected complications, missing equipment. At the end of the day, there was Zayne. At the end of her night, he would be there to calm her. Cool nature is comforting. He works so tirelessly all the time, much like tonight, and still manages to keep an even keel. She’s never understood it. It keeps her from wanting to burden him, so she sets herself to staying awake and not interrupting his work. It’s difficult when her eyes keep taking longer blinks.
“It’s taking longer than I anticipated,” he murmurs. All she can do is hum in reply.
Hana rests her head against the chair and a wave of languid tiredness rolls through her body. Before she can stifle it, there’s a loud yawn, her hand drapes lazily over her mouth when she knows she can’t avoid alerting him. Eyes open now, he looks concerned. He’s not holding pen or paper, dimly she realizes he hasn’t been working for a little bit now. She blushes— he’s been watching her.
“You’re exhausted.”
“No, I…” She trails off, fighting away another yawn so hard her eyes squint together. When she settles, he’s looking sharply at her. So she begrudgingly amends, “it’s just been a long day.”
Zayne pushes his chair back from his desk with an air of finality. The lamp in front of them clicks off with a pull of a tassel. Straightening her back, she attempts lamely to sit up properly. With her legs slung over the side of the chair, it’s difficult. She has to adjust completely instead. Once she’s facing him, he’s standing up and moving a few of the papers into a pile. “You’ll need a ride home, won’t you?”
“I may have been counting on that,” she admits, sheepish.
The doctor looks down at his watch and clicks his tongue in annoyance at the time. Decisively, he pushes his chair in. “My home is closer. You shouldn’t wait to go to bed much later.”
“Are you…?”
“Inviting you to stay the night?”
He stares at her, impossible to read initially. But as she clumsily stands, comes closer to eye level, the way his brows are lowered share the same tell-tale sincerity of concern he’s always held for her wellbeing. He’s not being sarcastic nor suggestive. There’s a plainness to it that makes her start to smile. It’s a simple act of kindness she knows the man wouldn’t afford many.
The intimacy of it makes her flounder. She’s only been to his home a few times and the idea of imposing at such a last minute has her stuttering. “Y-Yeah…”
“Well, I am.” As if this isn’t a large favor, he casually folds his glasses and sets them on his desk. Before she can protest or mutter something self-effacing, he’s picking up his coat from the back of his chair and walking around to her side. “We can go by your apartment tomorrow morning, or we can get you a spare pair of scrubs when you start your shift.”
Gathering herself, she puts a hand on his arm to stop him. “But the paperwork—”
“Can wait until the morning.” He’s dismissive, shakes his head and places a hand behind her waist to begin ushering her out of the large office.
Together, they clack down empty, echoing halls in lower lighting. It’s strange seeing the hospital so quiet and dark, but she can’t fixate on it long when he’s reaching in his pocket for car keys. The jingle of them is primarily due to a charm she had got him on a vacation a number of months ago, and she smiles when the flash of silver still has the small ornament. A marker of their bond in some ways, and an opening to his more sentimental side in similar others.
There’s a beat of still silence that passes when they make it to the parking lot, the car chirps as it’s unlocked. Ducking into the car, she watches as he buckles his seatbelt with efficiency.
“Thank you, Zayne.”
And another beat, followed by a real smile. “Always.”