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The silence in Orto’s break room was absolute, broken only by the ticking of the analog clock on the wall and the rain pounding against the PTMC’s windows. Brendon was sitting on one of the worn bunk beds, still wearing his surgical scrubs, his head tilted back. He was still wearing his shark surgical cap and kept his eyes closed, exhausted from an operation that was supposed to last only eight hours but ended up lasting twelve.
“Bren…” you whispered, approaching with two coffees in hand.
He didn’t open his eyes, but an almost imperceptible smile curved the corners of his lips. He knew it was you from the sound of your footsteps and the scent of your citrus perfume—the one he made sure to buy for you whenever he saw it running low because he knew you loved it.
“If you’re here to tell me one of the residents did something stupid again, save it,” he growled in his usual hoarse voice, though this time without his characteristic venom.
“No, I brought you coffee. And it’s not from the hospital; it’s from that ridiculously expensive place you love so much. Plus my delightful company."
That made him open one eye, looking at you with that intense blue gaze that used to intimidate everyone in that damn hospital, but that always softened when he was with you. He shifted just enough to make room for you beside him on the bunk. As you sat down, Brendon didn’t say a word, but he let his head fall onto your shoulder, breathing in your scent and finally allowing himself to let his guard down.
“You smell like antiseptic, citrus, and coffee… it’s like smelling home,” he murmured against your neck, closing his eyes again.
You let out a little laugh, feeling the warmth of his breath. It was strange to see “The Shark” so docile; except to you, since you saw him like that every night when you came home.
“Well, that home almost ended up as a patient in the ER an hour ago,” you said softly, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You won’t believe what happened to me. It was the stupidest thing ever: I was pushed by a naked guy—completely and utterly naked. He showed up with a dislocated arm from a sex game that went wrong, insisting he could pop it back in himself. I tried to tell him that was a bad idea, and what happened? He ignored me.”
Brendon, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, stopped short. His eyes widened, and he pulled away from your shoulder to look at you with a mixture of disbelief and protective fury.
“He shoved you?” His voice dropped an octave, turning dangerous. “A naked guy laid his hands on you? Where was Robinavitch? Yelling at someone again?”
“Brendon, I’m fine,” you tried to calm him down. “Robby was busy with a serious trauma case. I was just supposed to get the patient settled and wait for a resident, but the guy was in the middle of a pain attack and… well, he wasn’t wearing much. The thing is, before I could stop him, the idiot tried to brace himself against the wall. The scream could be heard all the way over in Pediatrics. I went over to force him back onto the stretcher, and he shoved me; I fell flat on my ass.”
Park set the coffee down on the table with calculated slowness. He sat up just enough to face you, and though he didn’t shout, the aura he gave off was far more terrifying than any of Robby’s tantrums.
“He threw you to the ground?” he repeated, and this time his voice was pure ice. His hands slid down to your hips, holding you firmly but without hurting you, inspecting you as if searching for some invisible injury. “I don’t care about his pain, or his arm, or his stupid sex game,” he muttered, closing the distance until their foreheads touched. “In this fucking hospital, you’re the only person I care about. If Robinavitch can’t control his own ward while I’m in surgery, we have a serious problem. You’re my wife, Doll. Any patient laying a hand on you makes my blood boil.”
He stood up with a sudden movement. The weariness had vanished from his eyes, replaced by that shark-like gaze of one who has detected blood in the water.
“Where are you going?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.
“To make sure the ER staff understands that I’m not going to put up with this ever again. And then, I’m going to have a very serious talk with Robby about his crappy safety protocols.”
He paused in the doorway, giving you one last look.
“Stay here and finish your coffee. When I get back, I want to check for myself that you don’t have any bruises. And that’s not a suggestion—it’s a direct order from your husband.”
“Bren, for God’s sake, it was just a shove. It’s not like they took me to the gallows,” you burst out laughing at his overprotectiveness. “You hit my butt harder during sex.”
Brendon froze with his hand on the doorknob. The silence that followed was thick. Slowly, he turned his head, and his expression transformed into something far more sinful. A half-smile appeared on his lips.
“That’s very different, Doll,” he replied in a hoarse voice, striding back toward you. “What I do to you is with your consent and because I know exactly how much you can take. But some stranger laying his hands on you out of stupidity… I can’t stand that.”
He leaned over you, pinning you against the mattress and invading your personal space.
“Besides,” he added in a whisper against your lips, “if you’re going to compare my hits to those of a patient… well, I’m going to have to remind you tonight why I’m your husband and why my hands are the only ones that can leave marks on you.”
He gave you a quick, possessive, hungry kiss before sitting up and winking at you.
“Finish your coffee. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take you home and show you who you belong to.”
He left the room, leaving the air thick with promise. You knew Robby was in for a rough end to his shift, but you were definitely in for an unforgettable night.