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“Dr. Zayne, are you listening to me?”
Your only answer is a quiet huff from the man sitting beside you. A single arched brow is his only response to your words, his expression somehow a cross between a pout and a grimace.
It’s a face you’ve never seen Zayne make before and you have to stifle the laugh bubbling in your chest, willing yourself to not give up the game already.
The pout on his lips immediately pulled on your instinct to dote on him, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself in order to follow through with your plan. It was just impossible not to want to give him everything he wanted, especially when he looked at you like that.
Since the two of you started officially dating, you had pretty much dropped the formality of calling him by his name and title entirely, favoring pet names. They spilled out naturally around him and you hadn’t noticed how habitual it had become to you until Tara teased you about it - overhearing a conversation you had with him over the phone - poking fun at you “babying” your often-stoic and older boyfriend.
The memory still made you laugh, mostly because she wasn’t wrong. Sure, it had embarrassed you at the time but also piqued your curiosity.
Did Zayne actually notice the pet names? He wasn’t that easy to read sometimes and while he’d never said he disliked them, you weren’t sure if he even really noticed them either.
By the look he was giving you now, though, an unreadable mix of shock and fond exhasperation, it was safe to say he’d noticed.
Without a word, Zayne reached out and brushed your hair back with the back of his hand, letting his knuckles graze your cheek before settling on your forehead. His fingers were warm, steady and practiced in a way that always left you feeling adored.
“It doesn’t feel like you have a fever,” he remarked, his voice laced with mild suspicion.
“Dr. Zayne, I’m not sick,” you replied, fighting the grin tugging at your lips.
His frown deepened at your use of his name again, a tiny crease forming between his brows. It sent a wave of guilt and affection crashing through you and you had to fight to suppress the rising urge to soothe him, cave in and dote on him like you could tell he wanted. But you didn’t. Couldn't. Not yet.
Instead, you teased him, letting your voice take on a singsong tone. “Dr. Zaaaayyyne,” you drawled, laughing now as his frown shifted into a truly put upon grimace.
Before you could react, Zayne smoothly tugged you into his lap and you hummed as his arms encircled you in one smooth motion. The warmth of his body against yours was as familiar to you as the rhythm of your own breathing and you let him pull you close without resistance. He positioned you snugly against him, your legs bracketing his, his chest a solid wall of reassurance against yours.
He took your face in his hands and tilted your head left and then right, inspecting you like a particularly confusing medical textbook page. “Something must be wrong,” he muttered, half to himself.
You giggled as he tapped your bottom lip. “Aah,” you teased, opening your mouth obligingly.
Zayne smirked at your playfulness but gave a mock-serious glance at your throat before releasing you with a nose tweak. “No signs of infection. Probably not the flu, no cold.”
“See? I told you I’m not - ”
His hands glided to your neck and you laughed softly as his thumbs grazed your skin under the guise of checking your lymph nodes. Then, with no warning, his fingers trailed down your sides, finding the soft spots that always made you squeal.
“Dr. Zayne!” you protested, your voice bubbling with laughter as he kept tickling you, his hands brushing over your ribs and underarms. Your laughter seemed to spark something mischievous in him and his lips twitched upward. His focus sharpened, as though now his sole mission was to draw more of that sweet sound from you. His hands moved with purpose, teasing and playful, finding every spot that sent you twisting and squirming in his lap.
You leaned forward in a futile attempt to escape his wandering hands, your arms locking around his neck, desperately drawing his attention back to you. His arms stayed firm around you, hands stopping their tirade to instead hold you steady at your waist, holding you to him.
“Dr. Zayne,” you tried again, voice breathless now.
“That’s not my name,” he replied, his voice low, with just a hint of teasing.
“Oh?” You leaned back in his hold and fixed him with a smirk of your own. “Do you really think that I don’t know my own doctor’s name?”
You caught the faintest twitch of his lips, too small to be a full smile, but enough to give him away. He exhaled through his nose, the sound almost like another huff and you knew if he didn’t think it was uncouth, he’d be rolling his eyes at you by now.
“It seems somehow you’ve retained only part of your memory,” he said, his voice carrying the faintest edge of mock concern, as though he were diagnosing a very serious condition.
Your grin widened as you reached up, your fingers threading through his hair. The soft strands slipped through your touch as you raked them back gently, and his lashes fluttered ever so slightly at the contact.
“Well, if you’re not my Dr. Zayne, then who are you?” you asked, the amusement in your voice absolutely impossible to suppress.
He tilted his head just slightly into your touch, his expression softening in a way that sent warmth spreading through you. His free hand having slipped from your waist drifted to the curve of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles lazily over the skin of your hip. The simple, absentminded gesture warmed you inside and out.
He didn’t answer you immediately, his eyes fixed on yours as if waiting for you to give in and fill the silence. When you didn’t, he leaned in just enough to nudge his forehead lightly against yours.
“Seems like sudden onset amnesia,” he murmured at last, his voice a little lower, a little more indulgent. “You’ll have to follow your doctor’s prescribed treatment plan if you want to recover.”
Before you could process his words, Zayne shifted beneath you, spreading his legs and tipping you forward until the only thing keeping you from falling to the floor was his hold on you. A startled squeal escaped your lips and you instinctively clutched at his shoulders, your laughter ringing out freely as you realized how precarious your new position was.
He grinned, his expression softening into something utterly adoring as he watched you, his chest vibrating with a quiet chuckle. There was no mistaking the way your laughter affected him - like every giggle was a gift he couldn’t get enough of.
“You’re ridiculous,” you gasped between giggles, still clinging to him, but you couldn’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. The way he looked at you, playful and loving, sent a wave of overwhelming fondness crashing over you.
You melted against him, tucking your head against his shoulder as your laughter softened into contented breaths. His hands didn’t stop, though; they slid along your back in lazy, soothing strokes.
“Hm,” he murmured against your hair, his smirk audible in his voice. “I don’t think the treatment’s working yet. Maybe we need to increase the dose.”
Despite your protests, or really maybe because of them his hands danced along your ribs again, coaxing more laughter out of you until you were practically limp in his arms, all tension erased by his touch.
“That’s better,” he murmured, nuzzling against your neck. His breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and his lips found the spot just beneath your jaw that always left you weak.
“You’ve called me a lot of names, you know,” he said into your neck, his deep voice making you shiver.
“My love.” His lips brushed your pulse point, soft and deliberate.
“Handsome.” A kiss again, this one lingering just enough to leave you breathless.
“ Sir. ” His teeth grazed your skin, the playful nip making you gasp.
“Z-Zayne!” you stammered, your voice hitching as his hands caressed you, sliding under your shirt and up your back, holding you close.
“You’re getting closer,” he said, smirking against your neck. “But I think you’ll need further treatment.”
You melted against him again, happily surrendering to his touch and his warmth, unable to stop smiling even as your heart raced. By the time his lips found yours, you were at least sure of one thing.
He liked the pet names just as much as you did.