#doctorslife

The book you were reading smelled like old paper and the faintest hint of hospital disinfectant, which wasn’t that surprising since you’d borrowed it from the break room shelf. It was one of those dense medical journals that no one ever dared touch, the kind with paragraphs that curled into footnotes and footnotes that spiraled into even more questions.

You turned a page carefully, fingers brushing against the edge as if afraid the pages might crumble to dust once handled improperly. At that moment, your husband shifted his head against your stomach, exhaling loudly through his nose.

He’d been quiet for exactly twelve minutes, an impressive feat for him. His hair still slightly damp from the shower and it left a faint cool spot against your skin through the fabric of his shirt you wore.

“Twelve minutes” you say without looking down, thumb tracing the edge of the next page “that’s a new record for you” and he groans, tilting his head back to glare at your upside-down face.

“Twelve minutes of my life, wasted” he laments reaching up to poke you in the rib “you promised me no medical texts today, that thing you’re holding is probably so ancient it practically counts as a biohazard” he snorts and you laugh, snapping the journal shut with one hand and the other to tug playfully at his hair.

“Fine. But only because you’re being such a baby about it” you put it down, the journal landing with a soft hump somewhere near the foot of the bed, forgotten. He grins, victorious and rolled over into his side of the bed slinging an arm over your waist before you could protest.

You laugh, twisting halfway out of his grasp - just enough to make him work for it. He hooks a leg over yours, pinning you gently against the mattress.

“You’re worse than the interns” you mutter but the little breathless laugh that came with it softens the blow, his face buried against your neck. And somehow, in the tangle of limbs and quiet laughter, you end up with your back pressed against his chest. Arms locked around you like he was afraid you’d vanish the moment he’d loosen his grip a little.

You sigh, relaxing into him and for the first time all day, neither of you were thinking about charts or shifts or the relentless hum of hospital fluorescents.

———————

His fingers traced idle patterns along your forearm, touch light enough to tease but firm enough to keep you from squirming away “you know” he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder “if we’re going to commit to this whole day off thing, we should at least do something exciting” his breath warming your skin and you don’t have to turn your head to see him to know he’s grinning at you.

“Exciting” you reply dryly though the corner of your mouth twitched “like what? running codes in our sleep? because I dream about intubations and it’s thrilling”

He snorts, tightening his arms around you just enough to make you gasp.

“You’re such a menace” he mutters with a laugh, the vibration rumbling through your back where you were pressed to him.

“No, I was thinking more like lunch. Maybe that place with the terrible nachos that you pretend to hate but secretly crave at 3 in the morning after a double shift”

His response makes you still for a fraction of a second, but just long enough for him to notice “you remember that?” you ask, quiet

“Of course I do” he says like it was obvious. Like he hadn’t just unraveled her with his words. Like he didn’t keep a running tally of every offhanded remark, every midnight craving, every time she sighed over a lukewarm coffee in the break room and wished for something sweeter.

Your breath caught and you turn in his arms so you could see his face - like really see it, the way his lashes casted faint shadows under his eyes, the way his mouth softened when he wasn’t trying to be clever.

“You’re ridiculous” you say, voice wavering and his grin widens like he’d just won something.

“Ridiculous” he agrees, nose brushing against yours “but you love me”

You don’t dignify him with a verbal answer, instead you push closer to kiss him, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that made his hands tighten on your hips like he was afraid you’d pull away. When you do, it was only to murmur against his lips “those nachos are terrible”

He laughed then. The sound low and warm against your mouth “liar” he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were sprawled across his chest, hair a dark curtain around the two of you “you drown them in that neon-green salsa and eat them like you’re starving”

You prop yourself up on your elbows feigning offense “excuse me? I have standards”

He traced the ridge of your collarbone with his thumb, expression shifting into something dangerously smug.

“Standards” he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke “right, like the time you ate an entire sleeve of saltines in the on-call room because -what was it?- they tasted like nostalgia?”

You pinch his side but he barely flinched, too busy grinning up at the ceiling like he’d already won “you’re never letting that go, are you?” you mutter though the heat in your words were undercut by the way your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“Not a chance” he says and then his hands were on your face, framing them, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks “I’m keeping all of it. The saltines, The way you hum under your breath when you’re concentrating. The face you make when someone mentions grape jelly.” he paused, tilting his head.

“Especially the last one, that’s art”

You open your mouth to protest but he presses his mouth to yours then, quick and teasing, the kind that left you chasing after his lips when he pulled away

“You” you try to aim for stern but land somewhere breathless instead “are insufferable”

“And yet” he says, rolling over until you were beneath him, laughter muffled against his shoulder “here you are”

He pressed his lips to your forehead once, twice, three times - light, quick, insistent- like raindrops tapping against a windowpane. You wrinkle your nose, swatting halfheartedly at his shoulder but the way your fingers lingered against his skin betrays you.

“You’re acting like a puppy” you admonish him though the warmth in your voice softened the insult

He grins then, unrepentant and shifts lower to dust kisses along the bridge of your nose, cheeks, the corner of your mouth, everywhere but not where you wanted it most. You huff, tilting you face away but he caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you still.

“Say it” he murmurs, breath mingling with yours

“Say what” you ask, trying to look clueless but your lips twitch and he knew he had you

“That you love it when I do this” he punctuated the words with another kiss, this time to the hollow beneath your ear - the spot that always made you shiver. You inhale sharply, fingers tightening in his hair but not pushing him away.

“Fine” you relent, voice barely above a whisper “I love it, happy?”

He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating in a way that made your toes curl

“Ecstatic” he murmured, not pulling away, lips still tracing the line of your jaw. Your body arching towards his, breath hitching when his teeth grazes the sensitive spot below your ear.

The sunlight streaming through the blinds painted stripes across the rumpled sheets, catching the dust motes that swirled lazily in the air between the two of you. You close your eyes, memorizing the weight of him, the way his heartbeat thudded against your ribs- steady, familiar, and yours.

“You’re distracting me” you accuse, though the effect was ruined by the way your fingers carded through his hair, urging him closer.

He laughed, the sound muffled against your throat “that’s the point my dearest wife” he nipped at your collarbone, then soothed the sting with his tongue.

“Day off remember? No pager, no charts, just- “ his hands slide beneath the hem of his stolen shirt you wore, warm against the dip of your waist “this”

You gasp when his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, back arching off the mattress “cheater” you breath, but he only grinned, wicked and unrepentant as he tugged the shirt over your head in one smooth motion.

The shirt lands somewhere near the forgotten medical journal and you barely had the time to register the cool, air against your skin before his mouth was on you - hungry this time, less teasing and more claiming. You could taste the coffee he’d drunk hours ago, the faintest hint of mint from his toothpaste, and something that was perfectly him.

Warm. Familiar. Perfect.

Your hands slid down his back, nails scraping lightly over the ridges of his spine, and you felt him shudder against you.

“You’re impossible” you gasp when he finally lets you come up for air, but the words lacked any real bite to it. He just smirked, trailing his lips down your throat, over the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking against the nipple of one breast in a way that made your hips jerk involuntarily.

“And yet” he murmured against your skin, voice rougher with want “you’re still here” his hands sliding lower, fingers skimming the waistband of your pajama shorts and your breath hitched.

You should’ve known he’d remember those too- the way you melted when he touched you just there, the way you’d arch into his hand like a cat seeking sunlight. He chuckled, low and knowing as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric and your thoughts scattered like leaves in a gust of wind.

The world narrowed to the press of his body against yours, the calloused drag of his fingers, the way he whispered your name like a prayer against your skin. You clutch at his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh and he groans, hips grinding against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm.

Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as his fingers traced lazy circles against your skin - each touch deliberate, designed to unravel you even further. You arch into him, body moving on instinct chasing the heat of his palm.

“You’re -“ you start but the words dissolved into a moan when his thumb brushed just there and suddenly coherent thought was a luxury you couldn’t afford right now.

He grinned against your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly over the pulse point he knew drove you wild “I’m what?” he teased, voice rougher with amusement and something darker, hotter.

His free hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back until you were forced to meet his gaze “Use your words, princess”

You glared - at least tried to- the effect ruined by the way your lips parted on another gasp “smug” you manage, voice trembling “insufferable”

He laughed, low and wicked and ducked his head to capture your mouth again, swallowing your protests before they could be verbalized. This kiss felt different, less playful more possessive.

His tongue swept against yours, insistent, demanding and you surrender to him with a whimper, fingers tightening in his hair.

When he finally pulled away, you were flushed and breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. He studies you for a moment, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable before shifting lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your sternum.

You shudder, hips lifting off the mattress when his lips close around a nipple, tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Your fingers twisted in his hair when his mouth worked its way lower, breath hot against your ribs.

“You - ah- planned this” you accuse, voice fracturing when his teeth grazed the soft skin of your hipbone.

He paused just long enough to smirk up at her “maybe” he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your pajama shorts, dragging them down inch by torturous inch

“Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself”

The shorts joined the shirt on the floor and you barely had time to feel self-conscious before his hands were spreading your thighs, thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of your knees.

You sucked in a sharp breath, pulse thundering in your ears “C/n-“

His name came out as a plea but he didn’t rush, gaze raking over you like he was committing every detail to memory. When he finally lowered his head, breath ghosting over you, you nearly sobbed.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth closed over you, tongue stroking in slow, deliberate passes that sent sparks skittering up your spine. You arched off the mattress with a choked cry, thighs trembling against his shoulders.

He hummed against you, the vibration rippling through you in waves, and your hips jerked up to his mouth.

“God - C/n-“ his name fractures into a moan as he curled his fingers inside you, his palm pressing just there and suddenly the world narrowed down to the slick heat of his mouth and the dizzying pressure building low in your belly.

You came with a shuddering gasp, back bowing off the sheets but he didn’t let up, continuously working you through it with a patience you were sure of bordered on cruel. By the time he finally pulled away, you were a trembling mess, limbs loose and heavy.

He crawled up your body, lips glistening, grin smug as he paused to kiss the rapid flutter of your pulse

“Still bored?” he murmured against your throat and you swat weakly at his shoulder

“Jerk” your voice lacked any real venom and he chuckled, nuzzling into the curve of your neck

You could feel him - hard and insistent- against your thigh but he made no move to rush, fingers tracing idle patterns across your rib cage.

You hook a leg over his hip, dragging him closer and he groans forehead dropping to rest on yours.

“Impatient” he chided but his hips rocked against yours anyway, the friction drawing a gasp from the both of you. You insistently tug on the drawstrings of his sweatpants and he makes no move to stop you, your hands slipping in to wrap around him.

His breath hitched, lashes fluttering “Fuck”

His groan dissolved into a shaky exhale as your fingers experimentally squeezed around him, thumb swiping over the head in a way that made his hips jerk into your hand.

“You’re-“ he broke off with a strangled laugh when you stroked him again, slower this time, nails grazing the sensitive skin enough to make him shudder.

“Trying to kill me” he finished, voice rough.

A smirk graces your lips, breath still uneven from earlier “payback” you murmur, leaning up to nip at his lower lip.

He growled, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all heat and no finesse, his hand sliding down to grip your hips as he rolled the two of you over. Sheets tangling between your legs, the afternoon sun casting gold across the sweat-slicked planes of his back as he settled between your thighs.

He doesn’t rush, just presses his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours as he nudged against you, slow and teasing “tell me” he murmurs, hie voice barely above a whisper.

You arch an eyebrow, fingers tracing the tense muscles of his shoulders “tell you what?”

His smirk was infuriatingly knowing as he hovered above you, hips rocking just enough to drag a whimper from your throat.

“That you want me” he breathed, the words hot against your lips, his hands sliding beneath you, fingers digging into the swell of your ass to pulls you flush against him - close enough for you to feel ever ragged inhale, every tremor running through his body.

Your nails raked down his back, hips lifting in silent demand “obviously” you grit out, but the effect was ruined when he chose that moment to press inside, inch by torturous inch, until you were gasping, legs locked around his waist.

He groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stilled, breath coming in short and uneven bursts. He was everywhere - the weight of him, the heat, the way his pulse hammered against your skin. It was too much and yet still not enough, and as you decide to shift experimentally he curses under his breath, his hips jerking involuntarily

“Fuck - y/n” his voice a wreck already, raw with want and the sound of it send a thrill through your body

“Move” you demand, nipping at his earlobe and he obeyed with a groan, thrusts slow at first, then deeper and harder until the bedframe creaked in protest and your moans muffled against his shoulder.

Lucky for you he knew you, knew the angle that made your toes curl, the rhythm that had you clawing at his back - and he used it mercilessly, his mouth finding yours in a kiss.

Your orgasm hits you like a delayed reaction - first a tightening coil in your belly and then a sudden, shuddering release that tore through you with a violence that left you gasping. He follows moments later, body going rigid above you, his groan muffled against the sweat-damp curve of her neck as he spilled warmth in you. He finally lets his body relax, sagging against yours carefully to make sure he’s not suffocating you.

For a long while neither of you spoke, too content in the silence and shared exertion. He traced idle patterns along your rib cage, fingertips skimming the dip of your waist. The afternoon light had shifted, painting the walls in amber streaks and somewhere outside, a car door slammed.

You exhaled, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thud - lub, dub- of his heartbeat beneath your ear until he breaks the silence.

“So” he drawled eventually, voice still rough “about those nachos”

You snort, swatting his stomach halfheartedly “you are insatiable”

You trace the scar on his shoulder - a thin, pale line from na OR mishap years ago- fingertips mapping the familiar ridge like you were memorizing it anew.

“You know” you murmur, voice still husky “we could’ve just gone for the nachos instead of…” you gesture vaguely at the wreckage of your shared bed, the sheets twisted around their ankles, his shirt still crumpled near the footboard.

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles “and where’s the fun in that?” he grins lazily, sated, the kind that made your chest ache “besides, you’ve complained the whole time about how they’re objectively terrible while inhaling them like a feral raccoon.”

You pinch his side in retaliation but he only laughed, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him until your head rested comfortably on his chest. The afternoon had deepens into golden hour, the light bleeding through the blinds in hazy striped across his skin. You exhale, fingers splaying over his sternum, keeping count of the steady strong beats of his heartbeat beneath.

His hands drift to your hair, combing through the tangled strands with a patient that never failed to surprise you after all these years of marriage “you’re quiet” he says after a moment, thumb brushing the shell of your ear.

You press your lips to the warm skin over his heart, lingering just long enough to feel the quickened pulse beneath “just thinking” you murmur

“About how you still smell like antiseptic even after two showers” and that earns you a scoff and a flick to your earlobe “pot meet kettle, your hair reeks of OR sterilizer”

You gasp in mock disbelief “liar” you tug on a lock of his hair, fingers lingering, twisting the damp strand absently. The silence settled again, thick with the weight of unspoken things - the kind that gathered in quiet corners of your shared shifts, the glances across gurneys, the way his hands would always find yours in the chaos of cold blue, and suddenly you find yourself feeling so sentimental that the next words you say come out naturally.

“I love you” you murmur quietly, not a fan of saying that out loud but showing through your actions

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you” he teases and even without looking up you can already see the stupid infuriating triumphant grin on his face, making you say those words was always his favorite challenge after all.

“You heard me” you whine and he chuckles, hand lifting your chin to meet his gaze

“Properly” he says with an encouraging smile and although you avoid his eyes at first, you sigh and resign yourself to look into his eyes

“I love you” you tell him and the grin that takes up his face is a million times better that it makes your heart stutter

“I love you too” he says the words so reverently that it makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over and judging by the way he’s grin has him showing his teeth -like a toothy toddler showing his parents his achievements - you know you’re flushed all over.

“I mean it” he tells you and you can only nod, not trusting your voice and he chuckles, letting you off the hook for now, his hand guiding your head to rest comfortably against his chest.

The last thing you register before falling asleep is him lifting the covers over the both of you, arms tightening around you to keep you from moving away from him and a gentle kiss on your forehead.