drowning in the sea of love.

His head is still throbbing a bit, mostly where it hit the ice when the other team’s defender practically slammed him into it, partially knocking his helmet off. It was brutal, the worst he’s had since he started playing hockey at five years old. 

For a split second, he can still feel it, the crack of his head against the ice, the way the world went sideways, the sound of the crowd dropping into a stunned hush before the whistle blew.

With an uncomfortable groan, he shifts on the bed, sliding a little lower before unlocking his phone and opening a streaming platform where he can rewatch tonight’s game that sent him into hospital. It was a good game, a tight, but good game, he felt like he was flying on the ice, but then the video comes to the part where he got injured. He winces as he watches himself from a couple hours ago get crushed into the ice, the replay somehow worse than living it.

“Wow, poor Styles, that must have hurt. But I guess that's what you get for trying to get past SinClair.”

The defense player who knocked him out. Bigger and older than Harry, but he really thought he would be fast enough to get past him. 

He wasn’t. 

He exhales sharply through his nose, dropping the phone to his lap, closing his eyes. The door to his room opens with a quiet click, pulling his attention back from his racing thoughts.

He registers the soft footsteps first, then the figure they come from, a young woman in black scrubs and a baby blue cardigan, she is holding a clipboard, scribbling something while she walks. 

“Mr. Styles?” 

Her soft voice caresses him and the bright smile she gifts him with once she looks up makes him forget about the dull headache. 

“Depends,” he smirks, sitting back up on the bed as she approaches. His voice is a little rough, but it carries his usual confidence he likes to use when charming others. “Am I in trouble?”

She lets out the smallest laugh, it’s more just a breath, but he catches the way her lips curl up the tiniest. 

“If you are, it’s not with me.” She hugs the board to her chest, tilting her head to the side. “I’m doctor Y/L/N. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he answers shortly. 

She hums softly, like she’s heard that exact answer a hundred times before and not once believed it.

“Headache? Dizziness? Nausea?”

“No, thank you,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, but he doesn’t miss the smile. “A little headache,” he admits. “But it comes with the job.”

She hums, checking something on the board, eyebrows arching.

“Ah, so you’re the hockey player the nurses were gushing about.” 

The nurses have been quite hospitable since his arrival, fluffing his pillow, bringing him an extra pudding, his charm has definitely worked on them. However it’s a bit of a stab to his ego that the doctor doesn’t know him. 

Not everyone’s life revolves around hockey and the NHL, Harry reminds himself and besides, it’s his rookie season, he is definitely not one of the big names just yet. 

“So just a little headache?” she asks, checking something on the monitor that’s been silently beeping next to his bed. Harry nods. “Given that you were kept here for the night, that’s reasonable, as long as it’s bearable.”

“It is, now that you’re here.”

That came out of him unexpectedly, flirty and playful and he almost apologizes, but when he sees her biting her lips to stop herself from smiling, he feels no remorse. 

“Are you always like this or should I be worried about the headache?” she asks, arching an eyebrow, but her eyes give her away, she is in on the game. 

“I’m like this only with pretty doctors.”

“Mm. Lucky me. But I really need to know how you’re feeling,” she adds in a softer tone. She grabs what looks like a pen from her pocket, but when she clicks it, light flashes into his eyes, making him frown at first. “Follow the light please.”

“I really am good, Doc,” he assures her, following the light as she moves from side to side. She nods, puts the light away and jots down something on the board. 

“You threw up right after the incident.” It’s not a question, a fact, makes him wince a little at the memory of puking once he was off the ice. At least it happened off cameras, thankfully. “Any nausea since then?”

“Nope. I’m all good.” 

Her eyes snap over to the phone in his lap that lies now with a black screen. 

“Your vitals are good, the headache will probably stay for the next forty-eight hours, but your head was hit pretty hard, concussions are no joke. You need to rest and limit screentime to zero, if possible.”

Harry grabs the phone and puts to the small night table next to his bed, then gives an innocent look, like he wasn’t watching the game just minutes before she entered the room. 

“So if everything is so well, I can be back on the ice, let’s say… next week?”

“That’s way too early. You need at least two weeks off the ice and–”

“How about one week? I really feel amazing and–”

“No,” she cuts in smoothly.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he protests, but she just shakes her head.

“I didn’t need you to finish that thought. Two weeks, and then slowly ease back. No rushing, Mr. Styles.”

“Harry. Please, just call me Harry.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand. “Please. It would help my recovery immensely.”

She can’t help the smile that stretches across her lips.

“Okay. Harry. Take it easy, or you end up here again.”

“If that includes seeing you again, Doc, I’m alright with that.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to see me here,” she chuckles, slowly approaching the door.

“That’s right, would be nicer on a date.”

He likes to flirt and sometimes does it shamelessly, but this is definitely the most eager he has ever been, he can’t deny that. But there is just something about her that has him under her spell. There’s an itch in the back of his mind to talk to her for as long as possible. 

The doctor stops at the door with a soft smile, that’s obviously turning him down without even saying a word. 

“Rest, Harry.”

“Maybe you should check on me a few more times before I leave,” he suggests. “Will you be here when I’m discharged?”

“I’ll be the one signing your papers, so yes. But according to you, you feel amazing, so you don’t need to be checked.”

Ouch. She just used his words against him. He knows he was defeated, but the smile on her lips is worth it. 

“Feel free to pop in if you have time before the morning.”

“I’m a doctor. Time is not something I have,” she sighs and with that, she is out of the room, while Harry stares at the room even long after she’s gone. 

***

The next morning, Harry is very much awake before he needs to be. Not because he feels amazing, his head still pulses faintly behind his eyes, but because he’s waiting. It’s ridiculous, really, he knows. But it’s true. 

A knock sounds, and his head immediately snaps toward the door, a hopeful spark lighting up his chest as it opens, but it’s not the doctor he was waiting for to appear. It’s two nurses.

“Good morning, superstar,” Binta, the older one chirps as they walk in, both of them smiling a little too knowingly. Harry leans back against the pillows, flashing them an easy grin.

“Morning. Is this the part where you tell me I’m free to go?”

“Eager to leave?” the other one, Betty teases, checking something on the monitor.

“Eager to get back to work,” he corrects, though there’s a slight pause before he adds, “Also… I was told someone would be signing my discharge papers. Doctor Y/L/N?”

The nurses exchange a look, a knowing one and Harry realises he shouldn’t have dropped the name probably, but now it’s too late. Neither of them can hide the smile as they hook him off the monitors and the beeping finally stops. 

“Ah, yes, dr. Y/L/N. So that’s why you’re in such a hurry?” Betty wiggles her eyebrows at him. Harry huffs out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. He walked right into this. 

“I’m just being thorough with my medical care.”

“Right,” Binta nods very seriously. “Very thorough. Has nothing to do with the fact that dr. Y/L/N is–”

“The best resident we’ve had in years,” Betty cuts in quickly, but not before shooting her colleague a look.

So she’s a resident. Harry files that away in his head. 

“Smart, hardworking,” Binta continues, clearly ignoring the warning glance. “Works way too much, if you ask me.”

“Way too much,” Betty agrees. “She basically lives here.”

“Doesn’t leave any time for a social life,” Binta adds with a dramatic sigh. “Tragic, really. She is such a beautiful young lady.”

Harry bites the insides of his cheeks, stopping himself from smiling at how the two nurses rave about her. So it’s not just him she put a spell on. 

“I already told her she should take on less shifts and go on more dates,” Betty muses. “You’re good, superstar. You can get dressed, have someone to drive you home?”

Harry stands from the bed, a little slower and more carefully.

“Yes, a friend of mine is picking me up. So dr. Y/L/N is single?”

The nurses exchange another look, but Harry is not even trying to be nonchalant now. Walking over to his bag he gets rid of his ugly hospital gown, not even caring that now he is just in his boxer briefs and then he starts pulling out the clean clothes he was planning to wear after the game last night. 

“No, she is very much single,” Binta huffs out a laugh. 

He only hums and starts pulling his joggers on, that’s when the door opens again and this time it’s exactly who he’s been waiting for. 

She steps in with the same calm energy as the night before, clipboard in hand, hair slightly messier than the last time he saw her. Her eyes flicker to him, then to the nurses and back to him, it appears she only then realises that he’s shirtless and though it happens fast, he definitely catches her checking him out. 

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, clearing her throat.

“Not at all,” Betty beams. “We were just telling Mr. Styles how lucky he is that you’re the one discharging him.”

The doctor’s gaze flicks to Harry and there is that hint of smile he saw last night. 

“Is that so?” she asks, eyes moving down at the board in her hands. 

“Very lucky,” he smirks, then pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

“Well, let’s see if you still feel that way after I tell you to stay off the ice.”

Harry groans quietly. 

“Still stuck on that, huh?”

“Very much so,” she replies, completely unfazed. “Two weeks minimum. No games, no practice, no ‘just a quick skate.’”

Harry just nods, folding his arms over his chest. 

“How is the headache?”

“Better. And before you ask, no nausea or dizziness.”

She smiles, before writing something on the board, then she takes the paper and hands it over to him. 

“You’re good to go then. But if you ignore the orders, you’ll be back here. And I won’t be nearly as nice the second time.”

He wants to say how adorable she looks, pretending to be so bossy, but her eyes are still so soft and warm, but he doesn’t want to embarrass her. So he just takes the paper. 

“Guess I’ll have to behave then.”

“Good,” she nods, watching him slip the paper into his bag. “Your team can survive without you for a couple of games.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. 

“Couple of games?” he repeats. “We’re heading into playoffs. Bit more than a couple.”

“I don’t know a thing about hockey, I have no idea what that means,” she admits. With a lopsided grin, he steps closer, noting how much taller he is than her. If he pulled her into his arms, her head would fit perfectly under his chin, but he shakes that thought.

“It’s a pretty big deal, playing for the Stanley Cup. Like… It’s like the hockey olympics.”

“Then I suggest they win it without you risking your brain, Harry.”

He smiles at that. Something buzzes in him, something about her just hooks right into his mind. 

“Well, dr. Y/L/N, how about a deal?”

Interest flickers in her eyes, her head tilting slightly. 

“A deal?”

“Yes. When we do win the cup, you go on a date with me.”

Behind her, Betty and Binta stop whatever they were doing, looking at each other with wide eyes, his bluntness stunned everyone in the room, even him a little too. 

Recovering from it, she shakes her head with a quiet laugh, scribbling down something onto the board before hugging it to her chest, like it’s a shield.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Occupational hazard,” he shrugs with a smirk. She studies him for a moment, like she’s weighing something, then with an amused smile… she nods.

“Alright.”

That catches him off guard.

“Alright?” he echoes.

“If your team wins the Cup,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “I’ll go on a date with you.”

Harry blinks. Then again. And again. Then a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Deal.”

She just shakes her head again, already turning toward the door.

“Get some rest, Harry. And take care.”

And just like that, she is gone. 

When Harry looks at the nurses they pretend to be extremely busy, but he sees the smiles and knowing looks they exchange. He chuckles, shaking his head and finishes getting dressed. When he is done he thanks the nurses their hard work and heads out. Walking down the hall he hopes to catch another glimpse of dr. Y/L/N, but there’s no sight of her. 

His friend is waiting for him outside in the car and on the drive home he skims over the paper he got, his eyes migrating down to the line where her signature sits, her full name written underneath.

Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.

He smiles wide. He surely wanted to win the cup, but now he has one more reason to be the best on the ice. 

 ***

The ER is loud tonight. Not full on chaotic, but busy enough that Y/N hasn’t had a proper break in hours. Monitors beep in uneven rhythms, voices overlap, footsteps echo down the hallway. It’s the kind of shift she used to find overwhelming as a resident.

Now, she moves through it with practiced ease and practice, it’s the place she belongs to.

“Page me if his pressure drops again,” she tells one of the nurses next to the bed of the young man she just examined, scribbling a quick note on the chart before handing it over. “Otherwise we’ll reassess in an hour.”

“Got it, doctor” she nods and takes over, fixing the IV as she walks out of the room. 

Doctor.

The term still makes her chest swell with pride. Not just a resident anymore, she is an attending doctor, this is what she worked so hard for almost all of her life. 

She smiles to herself as she strides down the hallway, moving past a stretcher with an older guy on it, being wheeled into one of the empty rooms, a younger boy marches after them, maybe the patient’s brother, he is clutching a hoodie, wearing an oversized hockey jersey. 

Her eyes catch on it instantly. The logo, the colors, she registers it instantly, it’s his team’s jersey.

Harry’s. 

That night when she walked into his room plays in her head again, the way he sat on the bed with that stupid, charming smirk, trying to get her to let him play as soon as possible and then the morning, when he was shirtless. Tall, broad shoulders, shizzled, toned muscles with tattoos all over his tanned skin. 

It’s just a body, she had to remind herself. She sees bodies every day, all kinds, it’s no big deal. Yet, Harry’s body definitely burned into her memories. 

And the deal they made. That ridiculous deal. 

When we do win the cup, you go on a date with me.

Her stomach still somersaults when she thinks about it. So. Damn. Ridiculous.

A few days after he was discharged, he followed her on Instagram. She remembers staring at the notification longer than she should have. 

@harrystyles started following you.

She followed him back. Of course she did, it would’ve been weird not to, but he didn’t message her and she didn’t reach out either. He liked a few of her photos, but she barely posts, so he didn’t have much to work with. So that was it. 

She saw things, of course. It was impossible not to, highlights, interviews, the occasional post that would pop up on her feed, though she never looked for him actively. 

Okay, maybe once or twice. Or maybe more than that. 

She knew when the playoffs started that year. Knew when his team made it further than expected. Knew when they lost. She remembers pausing in the middle of a shift, glancing at her phone for just a second longer than necessary after seeing the final score. Something strange flickered through her, though she would never admit that it was disappointment. That would be silly of her. 

She just moved on, life moved on, she finished her residency and he was not a rookie anymore. But every now and then she is reminded of him, like now with the jersey. Or a game playing on the TV at the bar she meets friends. An ad of him, smiling charmingly as he drinks from the beer he advertises. 

He’s been everywhere lately. 

She exhales quietly, shaking her head as she pushes the thought away again.

“Doctor Y/L/N?” someone calls from the nurse station.

“Coming!” she answers and just like that, she is back to her reality. 

***

She has barely sat down a minute ago to do some documentation when a nurse calls out. 

“Burn case coming in!”

The call cuts through the ER, sharp and urgent, and Y/N is already moving before the rest of the details follow.

“Male, mid-twenties, second-degree burns to arms and chest–”

“Got it,” she says, pulling on gloves as the stretcher bursts through the doors. The patient is conscious, groaning, skin flushed and angry where the burns spread across his forearms. She smells the mixture of burnt fabric and skin, Sasha, one of the doctorates joins her at the stretcher and her eyes grow big when the smell hits her, but she is quick to control her features, ready to assist Y/N with anything. 

“Hi, I’m dr. Y/L/N,” she tells the groaning man on the stretcher as they move down the hallway rapidly towards an empty room. “What’s your name?”

“Niall,” he grits out. “We were–Shit! We were just grilling.”

“Okay, Niall, I’ve got you. We’re gonna take care of that, don’t worry.”

Reaching the room the medics move him over to the bed and she gets to work. She moves efficiently, directing nurses, assessing quickly, her focus staying sharp, just how it always does when a new patient is brought in. 

“Sasha, start cleaning the arms up,” she orders. Sasha nods and grabs everything she needs from the trays behind them. “Start fluids and I want–”

“I’m right here, mate!”

Someone bursts into the room, gasping for air. Well, not someone. She recognizes the voice immediately. Her hands stop moving, just for a second, eyes snapping up from the patient to the man at the end of the bed. 

Harry stands there, cheeky, green eyes now filled with worry as he watches his friend grunt from the pain. His gaze jumps from Niall to her and recognition hits him instantly, but from the shock of the situation he is just staring at her. 

“Take him out, I’ll assess him after I’m done here,” she tells Hudson, the nurse standing closest to Harry. He nods and a moment later Harry is escorted out of the room and Y/N is focusing on the patient in front of her. 

It takes some time before Niall is stabilized, but by the time Y/N walks out of his room his pain has been taken care of, wounds clean and covered. He is snoozing the shock away, or maybe it’s the meds, but he is out when she leaves, looking for Harry.

She finds him by the nurse station. Well, behind it, to be exact, chatting with Betty, who surely remembers him as well from years ago. 

“Dr. Y/L/N! Look who is back!” she beams as she approaches him, sitting on a chair, drinking water.

The shock she saw in his eyes in the room is now gone, though she can tell he is worried, but he was quick to bring his charm out once he was handed off to the nurses. 

“Not the best place for a reunion,” she flashes a tight lipped smile. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi, dr. Y/L/N,” he smiles, soft and boyish. 

“Your friend is all set, knocked out from the painkillers, but he’ll be up in about an hour. He’ll need to come in for bandaging every other day in the next week, but he’ll probably heal nicely,” she informs him. “Now it’s your turn. Follow me.”

Harry thanks Betty for the water and runs after Y/N, who then leads them into another room. 

“Sit,” she orders as she grabs a pair of clean gloves. When she turns around she finds him sitting on the bed, smirking. “What?”

“You’ve become bossy,” he says and she blinks at him. “I like it. Looks good on you.”

And so it begins, she thinks to herself.

“Occupational hazard,” she says, using his words from years ago that just widens his smirk. “Let me see your hand,” she adds softly as she pulls a stool over and sits in front of him, taking his hand in hers to have a closer look. 

“Missed me, Doc?”

She exhales a small laugh before she can stop herself.

“Let me guess,” she adds, gently tapping over the wound on the back of his hand with her gloved fingers. “You’re ‘fine.’”

“Mostly,” he nods.

“Mhm. I’ve heard that one before.” She gives him a knowing look. “Hold still,” she murmurs, leaning closer a bit, examining the patch of reddened skin. Then she lets go of his hand, ignoring how it felt to hold him.

“So what’s the verdict?” he asks, reaching for the clipboard.

“You’ll live. But it was a close call.” The corners of her mouth curl up as she starts writing her notes down. 

“Ah, yes. It was definitely a near-death experience,” he grins at her. 

“Absolutely. I’m going to clean it and put some soothing gel on it, as well as a bandage. Give it a few days and you’ll be good.”

“You cut your hair,” he says, catching her off guard. She was talking about his treatment and in the meanwhile it appears he was assessing her.

“Um, in the past five years? Yes, I had a few haircuts.” She almost winces at her comment, but judging from his growing smile, he liked it. She stands and places the clipboard to the holder at the end of the table. 

“Not a resident anymore?” he asks, leaning back on the bed.

“No.”

“Attending?”

She nods.

“Looks good on you.” 

“And I see you still like to flirt,” she chuckles softly, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Actually, it’s you that brings this out of me. I’m not at all like this with others.”

“Oh, so they call you a heartthrob for nothing?” she huffs out a laugh. 

“How would you know that? Have you been Googling me?” he asks, grin so wide it stretches from ear to ear. 

Shit, she walked right into that. 

“It’s hard not to run into you these days, you’re basically everywhere on the internet and on billboards.”

Not the best save, but she pats herself on the shoulder. 

“Well, you’re not the only one who jumped a few levels since we last met,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing that he is one of the best players in the league right now with the third highest points in the season. 

Not that she knows or checked it. That would be ridiculous.

She shakes her head with a small smile. 

“Stay right here, I’ll get everything we need for your hand.”

Harry nods and watches her walk out. She can’t help but take a deep breath once she is on her way gathering the needed supplies. Seeing him is like she was put under a spell, that stupid cheeky grin makes her stomach tumble like she’s sixteen again, spotting her crush across a crowded hallway, she has to remind herself that she’s a grown woman. A doctor, who is treating a patient. 

“Everything alright with the superstar?” Betty asks, when she sees Y/N pushing a cart towards the room. 

“Yep,” she answers shortly, not meeting her gaze, but she knows the nurse is smirking at her. 

“Need any help?”

“Nope.”

And with that she pushes the cart into the room where Harry is still on the bed. He’s scrolling on his phone with his good hand, the injured one laid on his thigh. At her return he puts the phone away, sitting up on the bed. 

“You’re not here with a concussion, you can use your phone,” she tells him, settling beside the bed, putting on a pair of clean gloves as she preps everything she needs. 

“I know. But I would rather talk to you than be on my phone.”

She pauses for just a second, fingers hovering over the supplies she’s laying out on the tray.

“Mm. Just don’t distract me too much. I might mess up and next thing you know your hand is gone.”

She tries to keep a straight face, but when her gaze flickers up to him and sees the wide grin, she can’t help smiling either. 

“That would be very inconvenient,” he says chuckling. “Especially since playoffs start next week.”

“This is gonna hurt a little,” she gently warns him before spraying some disinfectant onto his hand. He hisses shortly, but doesn’t move as Y/N starts dabbing around the burnt skin. “So playoffs. Maybe you shouldn’t have played with fire before such important games.”

“It’s our last free weekend before the rush, we just wanted to grill some burgers, but Niall is… I’m not letting him near the grill again,” he chuckles softly, eyes glued to her hands, watching her clean the wound with ease. 

“This is going to feel cold,” she comments again before spreading some soothing gel on his skin. He lets out a soft groan at the feeling of the coldness against the burn. “So you’ve been staying out of trouble on the ice since your concussion?”

“No head injuries,” he corrects her with a soft chuckle as she starts wrapping his hand up. “I broke a finger last year and had a bruised rib three years ago. They both happened at away games, otherwise I would have come to my favorite doctor.”

Her cheeks heat at his flirty comment, but she keeps her eyes focused on his hand. 

“No Stanley Cup?” she asks after a few beats, though she knows the answer to that. His team was the closest to it in his rookie year, though people say with the new trades this year might be the one for them to finally win.

Not that she knows anything about the changes that happened in his team or anything, of course. 

“Not yet. Thanks for the reminder.”

She looks up at him, lips parting, thinking that he took it as mockery and she is just about to apologize when she sees the smirk on his face. He knows it was just a joke. 

With a deep breath she sets his hand down, pulling her gloves off.

“All set. Leave this on for the next two days, then change it every day for three more days. It should heal quickly, I’ll have Betty give you some of the gel I used.”

“Is Binta still here too?” he asks, taking a closer look at his freshly bandaged hand while Y/N cleans up on the cart. 

She is surprised he remembers her too. Maybe she thought success got into his head, but it appears that underneath the flirty act he is still that kind, friendly guy he was all these years ago.

“No. She is happily retired, spending most of her time with her five grandkids.”

From the corner of her eyes she sees him hop off the bed, stretching his long legs and rolling his shoulders. She notices how tall he still is, carrying himself with confidence. He’s got a little bulkier, though that’s no surprise, top athletes like him spend long hours in the gym on and off season, that she knows. 

That’s what her ex did too. Long hours, discipline, focus. She knows how that life goes.

“Um… I’ll prepare your documents, you’re good to go. We’re keeping your friend in for a night, just to make sure he is alright.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he nods.

They stare at each other for a few beats, his lips curled slightly with a boyish glint in his eyes and she definitely feels nervous around him now that she has nothing to work on. 

“Okay,” she whispers to herself with a nod and moves to leave the room, but his voice stops her.

“I didn’t forget about our deal, just so you know.”

Her lips part in surprise. Not because she forgot about the deal, but because she thought he did. Or maybe that he didn’t even mean it, but his words now prove that wrong. 

“Have you?” he asks, dipping his head just the tiniest. She shakes her head.

“No.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Because I really feel like this is our year.”

“Ending up in the hospital before playoffs might not be the best omen, though.”

He laughs at her witty comment and follows her out of the room. 

“A little burn is nothing to worry about. I’ve had it worse.”

“Very confident, I see.”

“Kinda need to be when you’re aiming for the Stanley Cup,” he shrugs and then adds, “and a date with the prettiest doctor.”

Her heart tumbles in her chest and she refuses to look at him. That would be game over, he would melt her and that can’t happen. She needs to stay professional and besides… she doesn’t date athletes, she shouldn’t have accepted the deal back then, but his charm was just irresistible.

It still is. 

“But of course, only if you’re not taken,” he continues just as they reach the nurse station. Y/N stops by one of the computers and starts typing up her notes for Harry’s documents, though she can’t mask her stunned smile. 

“Uh, no. Still single.” She tries to keep her voice down, knowing well all the nurses around are listening to their conversation. Harry grabs everyone’s attention with his confident stature, leaning onto the counter while she types away. 

“That’s kind of unbelievable, but also very fortunate for me. I admit I was afraid a wedding picture would pop up on your Instagram profile one day, that would have instantly ended our deal.”

She shakes her head, huffing out a laugh as she gives up the typing. She could barely write two sentences, he is way too distracting. The fact that he just acknowledged he found her profile also spreads something unknown through her veins, excitement mixed with warmth. She exhales quietly, shaking her head as she finally turns to look at him.

“So you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” she asks, one brow lifting.

“Wouldn’t say tabs,” he shrugs, far too casual. “Just… occasional curiosity.”

“Right,” she hums, not believing that for a second, ignoring the buzz it sends down her body.

“I followed you in case I needed to consult with you about future symptoms.”

What a little liar, she thinks to herself and he knows she is not buying it either judging from his cheeky grin.

“Mm. Right. But you never texted me.” She didn’t mean that as an accusation, though it comes out a bit like that. Like she was waiting for him to reach out. 

“I didn’t, you took such good care of me, I was feeling fantastic. Though I kinda wished you checked in on me.”

She gives him a stunned look. Is he actually turning this around now?

“I was busy,” she says, turning back to the computer, though she sees nothing of what’s on there, she just needs to seem like the conversation is not affecting her. “Residency doesn’t exactly leave room for… texting hockey players.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Of course. Occupational hazard.”

Her lips twitch.

Harry draws in a deep breath, looking around as she starts typing again, though she notes to herself to revise it once she is on her own. The nurses around them seem to be busy, but Y/N knows them, they are surely listening to their conversation and she’ll never hear the end of it. Even years ago, Binta and Betty teased her for so long about Harry. 

“So you’re single,” he repeats. She just nods. “And our deal is still on. Let’s say I sent you a DM. Would you reply?”

The whole station quiets. Y/N looks up and suddenly every nurse is avoiding her gaze. She shakes her head laughing, they are so nosy, but she loves them, though she doesn’t want to give them more to gossip about. 

“Room five is free, needs cleaning. Please check the temperature of the lady in room fifteen. I’m going to take ten and go over how to take care of his injury with Mr. Styles.”

It’s a clear message at the station that the show is over as she guides Harry away, towards the cafeteria. 

“You know I’m your doctor, right?” she asks as they walk down the hallway, she hides her hands in the pocket of her zip-up hoodie she usually wears over her scrubs. 

“Only until you sign my papers though, right?” Harry flashes a lopsided smirk that just makes heat crawl up her throat again. 

“That’s… not quite how it works,” she chuckles. 

Walking into the cafeteria Y/N gets herself a cup of green tea and Harry opts for plain black coffee. They settle at a table in the back, Y/N lets out a soft exhale as she leans back, she hasn’t sat down resting in probably two hours, it feels nice for her body to have a break and not work while sitting as well. 

She takes a moment to look at him, take in his handsome features, the light stubble around his jawline and above his lips, the green of his eyes really pop in this lighting and those curly lashes… He is really goodlooking, she can’t deny that. 

“I don’t date athletes,” she spits it out suddenly. His eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t seem shocked, more like intrigued. He leans back slightly in his chair, studying her like she just handed him a puzzle instead of a rejection.

“Is that so?” he asks, calm. Not defensive. Not even surprised. She nods, lifting her cup just to have something to do with her hands.

“I’ve had a bad experience,” she admits, clearing her throat, not meeting his eyes. 

“An ex?”

She nods. 

“I was still in med school, he played basketball. He went pro around the time I started my residency.”

She is not even sure why she is sharing all this, but she feels like she can trust him. Harry hisses.

“Ah, a basketball player? You really got the worst of us.”

That makes her laugh. 

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He has turned down his cheekiness, but it still feels light.

She runs her tongue across her lips, shaking her head lightly as she recalls her memories with Hudson, her ex. 

“Um, we dated for about two years, lived together for the last six months. I was in med school, he just went pro, we were both very busy. We barely saw each other, we grew cold and… yeah.”

“You grew cold and that’s it?” Harry asks, tilting his head lightly, though his tone lets her know he suspects more happened.

“He cheated on me,” she admits with a forced smile. It happened a long time ago, she is over Hudson, but the hurt of being cheated on never really goes away. The feeling of not being enough for the person who meant everything to you. 

He exhales sharply, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Idiot,” he mutters under his breath.

She lets out a quiet huff of laughter, though there’s not much humor in it. “That’s one way to put it.”

Harry leans forward, forearms resting on the table, his attention fully on her now.

“I hope you don’t think that’s normal or in any way your fault.”

It’s like he touched right on what hurt the most. For a very long time, she doubted herself for breaking up with Hudson, that maybe his cheating was normal, something that was bound to happen and then came the thoughts that it all might had been her fault. Now it seems ridiculous that she ever felt that way, but it took her a long time to straighten it all out in her head. 

Harry leans back, clearing his throat. He can sense her discomfort about the subject.

“So you decided we’re all the same? He ruined my chances as well?” 

Looking up to meet his eyes, she finds him smiling warmly at her that eases her mood as well. 

“Definitely didn’t help your case,” she chuckles softly.

“So I have a case?” The cheeky smirk is back on his face, her cheeks heating up. She can’t believe she walked right into that again. She opens her mouth to protest or explain herself, but he shakes his head. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You’re so damn cocky,” she laughs in disbelief, Harry just smirks, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“You haven’t answered.”

“To what?”

“Would you reply?” he asks, referring to his question from earlier about sending her a message. She presses her lips into a thin line at first, but then a smile stretches across her lips. 

“Why don’t you figure it out?”

Something glints in his eyes as he stares back at her and then pulls his phone out of his pocket. He starts tapping away, then locks it and places it onto the table. Y/N pulls hers out, though she has it on silent when she is working. But as she wakes the screen, there it is. A message from Harry. 

Hi, Doc.

That’s all he wrote. 

Her breath catches, just lightly a sense of excitement washing over her, she is practically seconds away from giggling like a little girl. It’s ridiculous.

But she is also obsessed with this feeling. 

She glances up at him, he’s already watching her, chin tilted slightly down, eyes expectant, that familiar hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He is waiting for her next move. She lazily unlocks the phone and opens the message, her thumb hovers over the keyboard before typing her response and sending it. Just as she locks her phone, Harry’s lights up on the table.

Hi Harry.

She wrote back. A slow grin spreads across his face as he reads it, then looks up at her again. He starts typing just when her pager goes off, popping the bubble they’ve been sitting in. 

“Um, sorry, I gotta go. There’s an urgent case coming in.”

She is already on her feet, chugging down the rest of her tea. 

“It was great to see you again, dr. Y/L/N.” His smile is soft and genuine and for a second she almost tells him to just call her Y/N, but she swallows the words and only nods with a smile before rushing away. 

The rest of her shift whisks her away. One urgent case comes after the other, she barely has time to go to the restroom, it’s pretty hectic. When she finally gets to the end, Harry is long gone. She signed his papers at one point, a nurse pushed them under her nose between two patients so she knew he was free to go, but a tiny part of her maybe hoped that he stayed. 

Don’t be ridiculous, he probably has better things to do than hang out in a hospital, she tells herself as she does her end of shift documentation. When it’s all done she heads back to her locker, on her way she pulls her phone out, but she stops short when she sees a new message from Harry. 

Just wanted to thank you for taking care of me and Niall. Maybe we shouldn’t wait five years again before meeting again. How about a coffee sometime?

Her smile stretches wide, rereading the message over and over again. She shouldn’t feel this much excitement, but this simple suggestion has her stomach tumbling.

Stepping to the side so she’s not in the way she types her response.

It’s literally my job, but you’re welcome. Is this you asking me out without winning the Cup?

She shoves her phone back into her pocket, opening her locker she grabs her stuff and starts changing out of her scrubs. When she’s ready, another message is already waiting for her. 

Not at all. This is just the foreplay, easing you into when we win and our date finally happens. 

She is full on grinning, rereading his message as she heads out of the building, nodding goodbye to her colleagues on her way. When she is sitting in her car she is still thinking of a way to respond and at last she sends one single word.

Cocky.