DASHIELL
The car ride to the hospital was quiet at first.
I sat in the passenger seat with my seatbelt adjusted perfectly, staring out the window. My lip still felt a little swollen, my jaw ached and my throat was sore. I was tired, and my brain was already starting to feel loud even though it was only 6:50 AM.
I turned to look at Alexander. He was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh like it belonged there.
Looking as calm as ever, as if he hadn't just woken me up by jerking off on my face and making me suck him.
I crossed my arms.
"I'm annoyed with you,"
Alexander glanced at me, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"Oh?"
"You woke me up too early," I continued. "I was sleeping. My brain was quiet. Then you put your cock on my face and made me suck you. That is not a nice way to wake someone up, especially when I said no sex last night."
He didn't look sorry at all. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched.
"You looked very pretty with my cock in my mouth," he said calmly. "And you didn't say no while you were sucking me."
My face burned. I tapped my fingers rapidly against my thigh.
"That's not fair. I was half-asleep so my body reacted before my brain caught up. You took advantage of that."
Alexander's hand squeezed my thigh.
"You came on my thigh while I was using my mouth," he pointed out, voice calm. "Twice."
I made a strangled sound and looked away, cheeks flaming.
"That's… irrelevant," I muttered. "The point is, you interrupted my sleep. I need at least seven hours of rest for my nervous system to function properly. Now I'm going to be tired all day and my patients might notice."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, almost conversationally:
"I'll let you nap in my office during lunch."
I turned to glare at him.
"You're not listening to me."
"I am listening," he said. "I just don't regret it."
I huffed, crossing my arms tighter.
"You're a very bad husband sometimes."
Alexander's lips curved into a small smile.
"Occasionally."
I sighed, but I didn't move his hand off my thigh.
The rest of the drive was quiet, but I kept sneaking glances at him. Even when I was annoyed, I still liked being close to him.
When we pulled into the hospital parking garage, I unbuckled and turned to him.
"Next time you want that in the morning," I said seriously, "you have to ask first and wait until I'm properly awake. That's my rule."
Alexander leaned over and kissed my forehead.
"Yes, Doctor."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're going to break that rule, aren't you?"
"Probably."
I shook my head, fighting a smile as I got out of the car.
He really was impossible. Completely, hopelessly impossible.
We walked into the hospital together, Alexander's hand resting possessively on the small of my back the entire way.
The moment we stepped through the main entrance, several people glanced at us, nurses, residents, even a few attendings. I could feel the curious looks.
The whispers had probably already started.
Alexander didn't seem to care.
Just before we reached the elevators, he suddenly pulled me into a quiet side hallway, out of sight from the main corridor. Before I could ask what he was doing, he backed me against the wall, one large hand cupping the back of my neck as he leaned down and kissed me.
It wasn't gentle.
His mouth slammed against mine, deep and hungry, tongue pushing past my lips like he was reminding me exactly who I belonged to. I made a small, surprised sound, hands coming up to clutch his white coat. My knees felt weak.
When he finally pulled back, my lips were even more swollen, and I was breathing hard.
"Alexander," I whispered, voice hoarse. "We're in the hospital. Someone could see."
He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip, eyes darker than normal.
"Let them," he said simply. "I want them to know you're mine."
I flushed, fingers tapping rapidly against his coat.
"You're being very inappropriate at work," I muttered, but I didn't pull away.
He kissed me once more, slower this time, then stepped back.
"Have a good day, little anomaly," he said with a wink. "I'll see you at the end of shift."
Then he turned and walked toward the Cardiothoracic elevators like nothing had happened.
I stood there for a second, lips still tingling and face warm, before making my way to my own floor with a small smile.
The kiss helped for a little while, but the lack of sleep was already catching up with me. By the time I stepped into the Pediatric Neurology ward, the familiar static in my brain was starting to build again, pressing against the inside of my skull.
I stepped into the Pediatric Neurology ward, the memory of the hallway kiss lingering pleasantly. After adjusting the strap of my tablet case until it sat perfectly level against my hip, I headed straight for the nurses' station to check my morning list.
Sophia's name was near the top.
It had been a little over a week since her temporal lobe resection so I stopped by her room first.
She was sitting up in bed with her bunny tucked under one arm. The bandage on her head had been changed to a smaller dressing. She looked much better than the first few days after surgery, less pale, and more alert. Her mother was reading to her from a picture book.
"Dr. Astor," Sophia said when she saw me, her voice still a little soft but much clearer than before.
I smiled and pulled up a chair.
"Good morning, Sophia. How's the head today?"
She touched the side of her head gently. "It doesn't hurt as much. And I can say 'bunny' again without it sounding funny."
Her mother smiled tiredly but looked relieved.
"Her right-side weakness is improving slowly," I told her after doing a quick neuro exam. "She's moving her arm and leg better than yesterday. We'll keep working with speech therapy and physical therapy every day. The brain is still healing, but she's doing very well for only a week post-op."
Sophia reached out and touched my white coat with her good hand.
"Will I be able to go home soon?"
"Maybe in another week or two, if everything keeps improving," I said honestly. "We still need to make sure the seizures stay away and your strength keeps getting better."
She nodded seriously, then held out her bunny for me to examine. I gave it a very thorough "check-up," declared it perfectly healthy, and she beamed before I moved on
Next on my list was a new admission, a 9-year-old boy with new-onset seizures after a recent viral illness. I spent forty minutes with him and his parents, taking a detailed history, ordering an EEG, and explaining everything in simple terms. They looked scared. I tried to be as clear and calm as possible.
By mid-morning I was reviewing charts when I saw Elias Grant's name pop up on the system.
It had been several weeks since his surgery and the stroke.
I pulled up his file.
Elias was still in the hospital, but he'd been moved out of the ICU into a step-down unit. The stroke had caused right-sided weakness and some speech difficulties, but he was making slow progress with intensive physical, occupational, and speech therapy every day. His seizures were controlled on medication. The cardiology team had cleared him from a heart standpoint.
I made a note to stop by and check on him later. His parents had been very involved, they visited every day and asked a lot of questions. I knew they were still angry and confused about what happened, even though the hospital had only told them it was a "rare equipment complication."
I closed the chart and rubbed my temple. My brain was starting to feel loud again.
I glanced at the clock. Still hours until lunch.
I sighed, tapped my fingers against my tablet, and got up to see my next patient.
Alexander had said he'd let me nap in his office later.
I was already looking forward to it.
The static in my head had grown louder as the morning dragged on. The lack of proper sleep combined with the constant sensory input of the ward was making it harder to stay focused. I tried to push through it, but the pressure was building.
I had barely made it halfway down the corridor when the overhead speakers crackled to life.
"Pediatric Neurology to the Emergency Department. Pediatric Neurology to the Emergency Department immediately."
I stopped walking.
That wasn't a routine consult.
One of the charge nurses looked up from the station, her gaze already finding mine.
"They specifically asked for you, Dr. Harper."
Automatically, I adjusted the strap of my tablet case before turning toward the elevators.
"What happened?"
She shook her head.
"Seventeen-year-old male. Ambulance brought him in about three minutes ago."
The elevator doors slid open.
"They're saying he's... not making much sense."
A knot tightened in my stomach.
I stepped inside.
By the time I reached the Emergency Department, controlled chaos had already taken over.
The ambulance bay doors burst open as a stretcher came barreling inside, two paramedics struggling to keep a teenage boy from throwing himself sideways.
"Hold him!"
"Watch his left arm!"
"He's pulling out the IV!"
The boy couldn't have been older than seventeen.
His blond hair clung to his forehead with sweat, his hospital gown hanging halfway off one shoulder as he fought against the restraints securing him to the stretcher with terrifying strength.
His eyes darted wildly around the room, unfocused and frantic.
"They're under my skin!" he screamed.
The raw terror in his voice made several people flinch.
"Get them out! They're crawling! Can't you see them? Get them out!"
He clawed viciously at both forearms, dragging his fingernails through his own skin until thin lines of blood appeared.
A nurse lunged forward and caught his wrists before he could tear himself open any further.
"Daniel!" a woman sobbed as she rushed after the stretcher. "Baby, please look at me!"
His head snapped toward her.
"I don't know you!" he screamed, eyes wide with panic. "Don't let her touch me!"
The woman stopped dead.
Then she broke down crying.
I reached the bedside just as one of the emergency physicians fired off rapid orders.
"Urine tox is pending. Head CT has been ordered. He became combative in the ambulance. Parents deny any drug use."
"First seizure was about forty minutes ago," one of the paramedics added. "He had another one on the way here. Lasted around ninety seconds."
The emergency physician noticed me approaching.
"Dr. Astor."
His expression was tight.
"I was about to call Psychiatry, but something about this doesn't—"
He never finished.
Daniel's entire body suddenly stiffened.
Every muscle locked.
His eyes rolled back.
My pulse jumped.
"Oh, no..."
A split second later, his arms jerked violently against the restraints.
"He's seizing!" someone shouted.
The cardiac monitor erupted into a frantic chorus of alarms.