Or We Could Blossom (1/3)
Title: Or We Could Blossom
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ohno/Nino, Sho/Jun
Word count: 26,634
Summary: Nino is a talented young surgeon who is at a crossroads in his medical career. Ohno is the fearless Captain of Japan’s elite Special Forces Group. Their paths cross with a blaze in Japan, but things do not work out. Months later, they are surprised to find each other in the same UN outpost at Cyprus, both on missions of their own.
Warnings/Notes: My 2016 offering for ninoexchange. Fic is adapted from the hit Korean drama Descendants of the Sun. Slight violence, perilous situations, mentions of injuries. Possibly dubious medical and military terminology.
“My head’s spinning, Sho-kun.”
Sho laughs. “What kind of Leader are you if you can’t handle a few extra shots?”
“A super sleepy one.”
They amble together down the road, their mid-day sake and highball binge sloshing in their bellies. Granted, they keep weird hours for their drinking sprees, but what are soldiers on-call like them supposed to do? Never drink again?
That, and First Lieutenant Sakurai Sho pretty much never takes no for an answer, whether it’s work or play. It’s one of his best and worst qualities, in Ohno’s opinion. He wonders where Sho gets his energy, even after a 48-hour no-wink mission. The man is a horrible workaholic and seems to run on his own stubborness. As for Ohno, his own buzz combined with the impending jet lag will knock him out for sure-yet that should probably be the least of his concerns. He touches the raw, violet patch of skin by his lower rib. It doesn’t hurt that much right now, but all bets are off once the alcohol wears off.
Sho stops him by the chest, making him stumble forward. He nods to a scuffle on the side street, right beside the Family Mart that they frequent.
“Ooh, sandwiches?” he asks, thinking he won’t terribly mind having one of Sho’s favorite konbini cucumber sandwiches before he crashes. He's kind of hungry, now that he thinks about it. A bit of recovery food never hurt anyone.
“No, I meant, we should do something.” The fighting ramps up, evident even from a block away. Seven people, with a rather young looking guy getting pretty banged up in the middle of it all. Probably yakuza-related, he thinks, and absolutely none of their damn business.
Ohno barely supresses a yawn. “We’re in civilian clothes. Let’s call the cops and sleep.”
“You know that’s going to solve nothing, right?” Sho always gets straight to the point when he knows he’s right.
“But this is my only decent spring jacket, my mom just got it for me,” Ohno pouts.
“She’ll get you another one. Also, don’t we have a duty to uphold?” No, not really, Ohno thinks. It’s noon and where he wants to be is on his couch, napping away his headache-not in the middle of some petty brawl.
Sho takes off his jacket, which is always a bad sign. He eggs Ohno on. “Oh c’mon, it will be done in a second, you know it will be. The hospital’s even nearby!”
“I’m tired-,” he says, but of course, Sho is already jogging towards the commotion.
“Leader, hurry!” He recognizes the glint Sho gets in his eyes when they are in a mission and lives are at stake. The thing with Sho is that he’s always been indiscriminate about when to jump in, sometimes almost dangerously temperamental to a fault-if it means he can stop someone from getting hurt. Never mind that they just practically saved the occupants of an entire building less than 24 hours ago. Never mind that this little street scuffle can be sorted out by the local police.
He sighs. Ohno Satoshi has no choice-he will follow Sho down to every shady corner, no matter how sleepy and tired he is. It’s second nature to him.
Not for the first time, he wonders why he’s best buddies with someone so troublesome like Sho. As he jumps and crashes joylessly into the fray of punches, he thinks about how welcoming his bed will be later.
*
“How would you rate the pain from 1-10?”
“10, obviously! Now could you just please give me something for the pain? I have a meeting I can’t miss in a couple of hours.”
Nino’s face shows no reaction as he palpates different parts of his patient’s stomach. As far as he can tell, there is no inflammation, no suspect tenderness or pain that would warrant a “10”. He looks at the chart the middle-aged office lady filled up and grimly prescribes her a pain medication. There are some battles he doesn’t need to fight, if he wants to remain sane.
Nurse Aiba calls his attention from across the emergency ward by waving his hand enthusiastically, mint green scrubs hiking up his belly. Nino approaches him, sighing. He’s already told Aiba a million times not to move and bustle around so much in the emergency room-not that he ever listens. Nino has never met a chirpier nurse, cheerful even in the face of blood and guts. He’s always wondered if there was a special Aiba-only clause of "I promise that sunshine will thus shine out of my every orifice" as part of his nurse’s pledge. Nino’s had asked him once in spite, and Aiba only patted his head condescendingly, asking him if he wanted to go to yakiniku after their shift.
“Ninomiya-sensei, we have a patient in Bed 5 who might need some sutures on his right brow. A couple of broken bones too, maybe.” Aiba leans over to him conspiratorially. “I think he got it trying to escape from the cops!”
It’s not like Nino’s not used to the bustle and unpredictability of hospitals. He didn’t go through almost a decade of med school to settle into a boring practice. After all, the thing that he appreciates the most about being in surgery is that it’s kind of like a game. That, and he’s forced to get along with people, like Aiba, who, for all his enthusiasm, Nino is actually fond of. Not that Aiba needs to know that. But he ignores Aiba’s energized buzzing and turns his attention to the patient, asking him standard questions.
“I don’t want to be treated, okay? You can’t force me!”
Nino puts on his most simpering smile for the youngster with a rather yankee look. He gets patients of this type every once in awhile-problematic ones who try to make his job harder when it could be so, so easy. By the looks of it too, possibly entangled with the police. “Kikuchi Fuma, isn’t it? Says here you’re a minor.” he says, consulting his clipboard.
“That’s none of your business. Now can I go?”
“You can, but you may not. At least, not until you get an MRI,” Nino says. He passes the chart to Aiba. “Congratulations, you are now in charge of Fuma-kun here.”
“Blondie. Used to have hair like that,” Aiba whispers longingly. Nino digs his elbow into his chest and exits without a word. After all, he has a lot of paperwork to do. There’s a pack of melon bread and a can of stringent black coffee waiting for him in his office. He hasn’t sat in five hours, long enough for him to actually look forward to a pile of monotonous paperwork. He’s hardly settled in when Aiba returns to him with a panicked face.
“Fuma-kun is gone,” he says.
“What do you mean gone?” Nino stands up and storms to the beds, Aiba trailing behind him. The patient left his neck brace and arm sling on the unmade bed, accidentally leaving his phone in his apparent haste to escape. Nino picks it up, pressing the home button. The wallpaper is a blurry shot of a bonsai tree, but there are no messages or calls-no clues at all. He shoots a dirty look at Aiba.
“I only grabbed some bandages for Nakai-senpai, I swear! I mean, have you met Nakai-senpai? And really, it was just two minutes, max.”
Nino sighs. He looks out the window, and by luck, he sees the patient, limping slowly as he’s about the cross the road. “There!” he says to Aiba, who, to his credit, doesn’t spare any moment to jog from the emergency area to catch the escaping teenager. Aiba looks triumphant as he brings him back in a wheelchair, accompanied by hospital security.
“Isn’t this harrassment?” he says, looking surly. “I don’t want to be treated!”
He gets tucked back into bed. Nino smiles. “That’s your choice, but we just have to wait for your guardian so he can sign off on all responsibilities. Frankly, I don’t want to be sued. Or, we could also let the police take over. There’s that. Had a scuffle lately, Fuma-kun?”
“It’s Kikuchi,” the blonde-haired teenager snarls, but otherwise backing down.
“Fuma-kun,” Nino repeats. He signals for equipment. “That’s a nasty cut. Might as well allow us to have a go at it, yes?”
Fuma crosses his arms in recognizable defiance. Nino works with efficiency on his brow laceration, pleased enough that the patient is lying still. He is on the last couple of stitches when a shrill melody buzzes in his pocket, vibrating right by his thigh. Nino has a moment of confusion-he never has his phone with him while he’s on duty-when he remembers that it’s the patient's.
“Want me to answer it?”
“Huh? Answer your own damn phone,” Fuma says, as Nino sets his tools down and fishes for the ringing device. “So irritating.”
“What do you mean?”
Fuma just turns away. Nino rolls his eyes and presses the green call button. “Hello?”
“Hello,” says a relaxed voice through the phone, but Nino also hears it from behind him. He wheels around to see a man standing a pace away from him, a phone nestled against his ear as well. “Ahh, so it’s you,” the man says.
“Excuse me?” Nino puts down the phone. “Are you Fuma-kun’s guardian?” The boy shakes his head furiously when Nino turns to him.
The man in worn-looking jeans and a rather short haircut sighs, as if it was a waste of time to be there right at that moment. “No, sensei. You see, that phone you’re holding right now? It’s my friend’s, and I kind of need it back. We’ve been looking all over for him.”
“I’ve never seen him before in my life,” Fuma says, turning away from them.
“But I just saved-”
“Please.” Nino narrows his eyes at the signs of a brawl on the stranger’s clothes-the dirt on his jeans, a sprinkle of blood on his jacket. His mind turns, connecting the dots. He’s used to shady business in the emergency room, and seeing that Fuma’s a minor, he needs to be especially careful. “You need to leave right now, or I’m going to call the police on you.”
“No one’s going to call the police,” he says calmly, leaning against the front bed railings. “Sensei, this is simple, really. Just give me back the phone.”
Nino stands up. He hates patronizing people who feel like who can barge in at work and tell him what to do, in a lazy drawl at that. “Do not lean over my patient’s bed. Step away.” He nods to Aiba. “Call the security, Aiba-san.”
The man straighten up and sighs. “Fine, I’m going. I’ll still be needing that phone back, though.” Nino looks at him in irritation as he shuffles out of the emergency room. He resumes stitching Fuma up, grumbling. “You need to stop hanging out with those kinds of characters, Fuma-kun. I don’t want to see you back here in a body bag.”
“If I were in a body bag, I’d already be in the morgue now, wouldn’t I?”
He musters all his patience and focuses all his attention on the stitches. He really doesn’t need another patient smartmouthing him, he has enough to think about as it is. The results for the professor slot is coming soon. That little shit Tegoshi has been wearing his patience thin with his canny proclamations and weird skull bracelets. Morbid, much? And seriously, how can someone who can barely sew up a simple laceration be his main competition? Nino’s worked too hard all these years to give it all up to someone whom he’d very much like to kick in the ass, and not just metaphorically too.
When his shift finishes, all he wants to do is to take a quick shower and maybe squeeze in a bit of hunting-Aiba had slipped him a copy of Witcher 3 and Aiba’s taste in games is one of the few things he can trust him with. Lately, he’s also been thinking that his PS4 is starting to feel neglected.
The phone in his pocket rings again. Nino puts it on silent mode, ready to just hand it to Lost and Found. He staggers when he bumps into someone in the lobby.
“Excuse me…oh, it’s you again!” Nino exclaims in agitation. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”
“Sensei, please.” The man pouts. “I waited for your shift to end. The phone? My friend will come himself, but he’s just busy…negotiating.”
“I don’t know if you’re a bit slow, but I meant what I said-I will call the cops.”
“No need to be so hasty. You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you investigate things first before you reach a conclusion?”
“That’s rich. You’re a bully who gangs up on teenagers and here you are telling me to be the better person.” Nino gets the phone and dials the emergency number. Before he’s able to place it against his ear, the man snatches it from his hand with a a flourish. Nino would be impressed, except this is really eating away at his already minimal gaming time, and just who did this person think he was? He reaches out his hand in impatience.
“Give that back. You know I can just go to the front desk and have you arrested for disturbing the peace, right?”
The man ends the pending call with a small smile, as if amused with what Nino just said. “Sorry about that. But I’m not the person you think I am. Also my friend really needs that phone back, his iCal is all nice and synced up in there. I would hate to be the one who takes his precious schedule away from him.”
Nino presses the bridge of his nose. “I really have no time for this. I’m calling security.”
Right before he walks away, the man grabs his arm, swift and strong. When Nino spins toward him, the man’s eyes are pleading, almost puppy-like, which momentarily confuses Nino. He tries to wiggle away from his grasp, but finds it impossible-his outfit, a gray jacket and loose jeans, made him look lethargic in a way that he obviously isn’t. It only irritates Nino further. “Let me go.”
“Please, wait, I really don’t want to do paper work, you see-”
“What are you talking about? Let me go! What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh, he’s here, he can explain,” he says, face brightening up, letting Nino go just like that. He nods to a person approaching them, someone who looks a little too mirthful for someone who has a scratch on his face, to Nino’s consternation.
“Leader, why are you harassing the doctor! I told you to just get the phone.”
“He wasn’t harassing me-” Nino grumbles, “also, who the hell are you? Are you this con-man’s friend? Because if you are, you’re both in trouble.”
“Sakurai Sho, at your service,” he says, doing a little ridiculous bow, while also making his companion bend down. “This one here is Ohno Satoshi. I apologize for his lack of diplomacy, it’s not one of his strong points.” At this point, Nino couldn’t care less and would have turned them in instantly, except he spies who was lurking behind this Sakurai Sho person: Fuma, in a wheelchair, eyes looking swollen and red.
Nino tenses up, concern for his patient flooding his thoughts. “Fuma-kun, did this man hurt you? Are you okay?”
Fuma shakes his head. At this point, Sho explains everything, with Fuma nodding at the appropriate moments. Nino’s head spins at the convoluted story, and prioritizes getting the nurses to wheel Fuma back to his bed. Sho goes with him without question.
“You don’t believe Sho-kun,” the one named Ohno says, almost mournful.
“Why should I believe either of you? How is he his guardian now? And you, well. Just a whole bag of suspicious, with your cuts and all. I’m reporting the two of you after I check in again on Fuma-kun, who better not be exhausted by his little outing to the lobby, thanks to your ‘Sho-kun’.”
Ohno groans. “Seriously, that’s gonna be such a hassle.”
“Yes, so don’t make it more complicated. Please leave me alone, Ohno-san. I have far better things to do, like report you,” Nino says.
“Wait! Wait, if I can prove the story, will you just let it go? I swear to god Sho-kun’s telling the truth. You know what, I’m sure they got it on tape.” Something about his eyes makes Nino stop, for some reason. It’s a weird kind of sincerity, and Nino would know it would gnaw at him if he didn’t get to the bottom of today’s mix-up. Besides, it’s his stupid responsibility now that Fuma isn’t in harm’s way. Somehow, the two of them find themselves in the security room where all the monitors are. The guard on duty scrubs back the footage to earlier that day.
And so Nino finds out that they really weren’t lying. Nino watches with no expression on his face, but he’s pretty impressed at how they dismantled and dispersed the gang who was actually behind beating up Fuma, just around the corner from the hospital. He watches the brutal but precise punches Ohno throws, enough to hurt but not maim, at the ring leader of the gang, a much bigger guy than Ohno. It’s beautiful, in a grotesque kind of way. Like it was choreographed, feet turning surely, fists landing cleanly. Nino looks at his hands in front of his face. He would never throw them in a punch-his hands are for making microscopic incisions, or at already its most violent, for smashing controllers. Ohno, for some reason, watches him looking at his hands. He withdraws them.
Back on the screen, Sho has a henchman in some kind of choke hold. With a small movement, Fuma slips his hand in his pocket. Nino grimaces at that. Sho and Ohno eventually disappear from the screen, on the heels of the stragglers from the gang.
They stop watching after security guards arrive on the scene, and only an ailing Fuma is left. Ohno grins at him, a touch smug. Nino ignores him.
They leave the security room in silence, all the way up to the ramp that leads to the main building. He couldn’t resist not knowing. After seeing the footage, it was a miracle that Ohno doesn’t look more beaten up. “So, are you two cops?”
“Well, kind of.”
He would ask for his badge, but then Nino settles for accepting the rather uptight short hair as enough proof. He gazes at him, noticing his features-nothing out of the ordinary, but with a kind of delicacy that doesn’t make him look like the brusque type. Ohno meets his eyes, brows quirking. Nino looks away. They don’t talk until they reach the entrance of the emergency ward.
“This is me,” Nino says. “I need to check up on Fuma-kun.”
“I’ll go with you. Sho-kun’s probably waiting there as well.”
Nino doesn’t even try to shake him off, tired of his dogged persistence. When they reach Fuma’s bed, Sho is looking over him. “He just fell asleep. Ninomiya-sensei, I’ll pay for his treatment, if that’s okay. You and I both know this kid doesn’t have a guardian.”
Nino shrugs and doesn’t argue with him. Aiba told him as much after he asked him to find out about his background. “Why are you this nice to a kid who stole your phone after you saved his ass?”
Sho shrugs. “Well, let’s just say I can relate.”
Nino doesn’t even want to know, so he doesn’t say anything.
“Thanks for everything.” Sho nods at Ohno. “Leader, let’s go?”
Nino remembers something. “Um, Sakurai-san, someone’s been trying to call your phone all day. No name, just an international number. I answered it once because it wouldn’t stop.”
“Oh.”
“I kind of told him you were in the hospital, thinking he was looking for Fuma-kun. He says, and I quote, ‘You better be okay or I’m going to kill you in person. With a spoon.’ Sounds like a nice guy.”
Ohno chortles, and Sho only grunts in reply.
“Whoever he is, he thinks you have broken bones. So, I don’t know, maybe call him back.”
“Uh, thanks for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome,” Nino replies, wondering why this conversation is still ongoing.
“Leader, we’re going!”
“Bye, sensei,” Ohno says, nodding at Nino with a strange expression and walking out with Sho. What kind of nickname is Leader anyway? Nino wrings his hands. It’s been a long day, and it was made even longer than necessary by those two idiots. The bright side is that he doesn’t have to file reports. He checks if everything’s in order before he turns around to leave, psyched that his PS4 will take a beating tonight.
*
Ohno, by nature, is a quiet person. It’s why it doesn’t come to his mind that it might possibly be weird that he doesn’t say a word when Ninomiya finally spots him. His expression is unreadable, and Ohno musters up a neutral smile, waving his fingers. He really hadn’t planned on going back to the hospital so soon, but it was all he could think of last night. It’s not something that happens often.
Ohno doesn’t have a type, but if he had one, it would be the sharp-mouthed doctor that he had to deal with yesterday. Who is he to question the fact that he finds his face cute-the knobby nose, the scowl too? Even if said person was decidedly a man? He couldn’t sit still with the curiosity niggling at him, the almost childish desire to see his face again. He wants to confirm something.
“Ninomiya Kazunari-sensei,” he says, pleased to read his nametag. “I’m back.”
The doctor gives him a staredown and is about to walk away from him. Ohno grabs him by the wrist. “Wait!”
“You have an annoying habit of doing that,” he says, shaking Ohno’s hold off. At this, Ohno winces, and by instinct, raises two arms in the air.
“I’m sorry, really sorry. Won’t do it again. ”
The corner of Ninomiya’s mouth angles up. “Stop that. It looks like I’m terrorizing you.”
Ohno drops his arms. “But you are.”
“I’m what?”
“Terrorizing me. At least you were, in my dreams last night.”
He stares at Ohno. There’s a moment where Ohno thinks the line flew past the doctor’s head-and now that he said it, he much prefers that it did-but no, it didn’t, judging by his reaction. His ears heat up when he hears Ninomiya-sensei laughing as he hikes up the bridge of his eyeglasses with a finger.
“Color me disappointed if that’s the best you have.” There’s a hesitant warmth there, almost a glint of understanding, and Ohno will take it. He is so cute damn it!
“Ninomiya-sensei, I didn’t come here just to throw a pick-up line at you.”
“No?”
It hits him so suddenly, he thinks he probably looks stupid when he smiles in realization. He does have a reason to be here. When he explains to Ninomiya-sensei that he has a wound that needs some “gentle treatment”, the doctor snorts.
“Please. I don’t have time for this.” He almost leaves again when Ohno blocks his path and raises the left side of his shirt up with no scruples. Ohno watches Ninomiya-sensei's surprised look. His fingers automatically reach out to the side of bandage.
“I have no idea why it’s bleeding again, you see,” Ohno fake-mourns.
“The stitches probably opened up when you were fighting yesterday. How are you not limping right now?” Ninomiya-sensei does not sound impressed. He straightens out and signals for Ohno to follow him. Ohno’s taken aback that the doctor took his bait easily, so he walks after him in silence. With a perfunctory, almost bored voice, Ninomiya instructs him to sit down and remove his shirt. He complies. Ohno doesn’t think he’s just imagining Ninomiya taking a couple of seconds too long looking up and down his torso, and decidedly not where his fresh wound is. He jumps when cold fingertips brush against his obliques.
“Ticklish?”
“Very.”
Ninomiya begins removing the bloody gauze without much expression and proceeds to cleaning him up.
“You’re staring at my hands.”
“I’m just watching how you work. You’re good.” The doctor smirks.
Ohno can’t help it though. It’s transfixing to watch Ninomiya-sensei working his magic. Not that it’s anything new to him-the medical corp has probably sewn him up far too many times anyway-but it’s different when it’s someone he’s interested in. Ninomiya briefly touches the old wound by his waist, gaze lifting up at him.
“You have a bullet wound.”
“Do I,” Ohno says, brushing it off.
“How did you get it?”
“From shoveling,” he answers glibly, and Ninomiya doesn't say anything. Ohno truly believes in what he does, but the one thing he can’t do is talk about it to anyone. Which hasn’t really been a problem, because he never has the impulse to share a lot of information about himself with other people anyway. But somehow, this time around, he feels bad for the white lie.
Before he knows it, the stitches are done cleanly. Ninomiya tells him that he needs to see a doctor in a couple of days to see if they’re healing properly, and that he can leave.
“But I want you to be the one who checks it.”
“You just need to get your wound sanitized. You don’t need to come down all the way here to do it.”
“Oh, but I do,” Ohno says. “I wouldn’t trust the sanity of my wounds to just anyone.”
“Sanitation,” Ninomiya says, laughing. “Stand up, you’re free to go.” Ohno puts his shirt on.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Ohno asks, unable to resist. Ninomiya glances up at him.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he says, returning to cleaning up his work station.
“It’s not,” Ohno acknowledges. He’s not the type to pry, to be all up in someone’s business, but it seems like his mouth runs ahead of his brain in front of this doctor. The room feels like it’s getting smaller and hotter.
Ninomiya's eyes are shockingly dulcet and brown. Up close, he is even more arresting, the intriguing shape of his nose an invitation to look at his quirked lips. Ohno can’t stop staring.
He steps forward and pokes Ohno in the chest with his pen. “I’ll set an appointment for you at 4 the day after tomorrow. Don’t be late, I’m a very important person.”
Emboldened, he dares to lean in, his arm supporting him on the desk behind Ninomiya, who doesn’t flinch. He smells like fabric softener. “I’ll be here, Ninomiya-sensei.” His lips are only an inch away from the doctor’s ear.
“Good,” he says, shoving him away lightly. “Call me Nino. Oh, and I don’t do girlfriends.” He throws him a jaunty half-salute before he walks out of the room, not looking back once. Ohno’s heart is thumping.
Yes, confirmed-the doctor, no, Nino, does have a mole on his chin. Ohno’s never met someone with that exact mole placement. Someone he’s kind of attracted to, who happens to not do girlfriends.
He knows, in that moment, that he’s pretty much textbook screwed.
*
It’s been another long day. Nino can’t possibly forget that he has an “appointment” in the afternoon-Aiba has been reminding him over and over again. In fact, he couldn’t stop teasing him about it since he confirmed it this morning. “I know you like those aggressive types! He didn’t look it at first, but I’ve never seen you redder than when you stepped out of that room yesterday! Are you interested? Oh my god, you are interested!” Aiba exclaims, harassing him all over his shift.
Frankly, Nino only started paying real attention to Ohno the moment he removed his shirt-which makes him a shallow person, but who wouldn’t be, when you see someone built like a tank, all taut skin and lean bulk? It’s especially disarming when it’s a guy with sleepy eyes who looks pretty normal when dressed. Nino’s hardly a prude, but he feels faint just thinking about his fingers brushing against those defined abs and how Ohno leaned in to him so surely.
To be honest, it’s not his first proposition in the emergency room, but it’s certainly the first one he’s entertained. He looks at his watch, wondering when Ohno was going to get here. Aiba smiles as he walks in, tossing a chart to him. “A little stalking?”
“You’re horrible.”
Nino reads through his chart. 1980? So he’s just a few years older. There’s nothing else interesting on it, apart from the fact that he might be just a few centimeters taller than this Ohno guy, and that he has abnormally pretty handwriting. “Look, this is how you should fill in all those forms. Asami-chan won’t stop complaining to me about your penmanship!”
Aiba spins in the office chair. “She can still read it, right? Asami-chan’s just being a tyrant.”
“You know, I see you following her around like a puppy all the time. Does she play fetch with you?”
“Scoff all you want. It’s a sound strategy.”
Nino’s about to retort when Asami herself bursts through the curtain. “Ambulance arriving in five,” she says, and both Nino and Aiba stand up, jogging with her to the outdoor receiving area as she briefs them. “53 year-old man, car crash. Broken ribs. Possible splenic rupture.”
He feels the familiar rousing pump of blood in his veins, the stark calm clearing his brain of anything else other than the necessary information. As the ambulance rounds the corner, sirens blaring, Nino is nothing but calm and ready. This is what he’s trained to do, and he’s good at it.
*
Ohno has been waiting all day to finish overseeing drills for his unit. After lunch in the mess hall with everyone, he freshens up. As the train stations fly by, he thinks about how he’s never this impulsive in other areas of his life. At work, everything is calculated, with every accompanying risk assessed properly and contingency plans set in place. Outside of it, he finds it a relief that he can be almost inert and passive. He always needs time to be still-time for himself where he doesn’t have to make decisions that almost always have massive implications.
But this, him, now, sitting in an almost empty train car heading towards Hongo-Sanchome station, is entirely unplanned and highly proactive of him. He can’t even explain to himself why he is so drawn to that doctor, why the attraction was so instant that he can’t even pinpoint where it started. Granted, he’s been attracted to other men before, but he’s never had to-or wanted to-chase after them. But there’s something about Nino that he just can’t leave up to fate.
He finally arrives at The University of Tokyo Hospital with ten minutes to spare before his appointment. He’s really excited to see Nino’s face again-this time, he vows to remember more details about it. Ohno’s only on his way to where Nino treated his wound before when the emergency area’s door hinges out with brute force. A gurney rolls out, pushed by a male and female nurse. They rush past him. Ohno wouldn’t have recognized the dead-serious doctor squatting on top of the patient if he didn’t hear his voice booming out across the hall.
“Hurry,” Nino commands, his eyes focused. His white coat is already bloody up to his waist where he’s trying to stem the blood flow from the patient’s abdominal area.
Something clicks in Ohno’s head and he jogs over to help them push the gurney faster. They don’t even flinch at him-maybe because they do go faster with his help. Nino’s back is to him, so of course, he doesn’t see Ohno. When they reach the surgical ward, Ohno lets go and stays behind the doors, watching Nino’s back grow smaller in the tiny circular window.
Nino is kind of hot, he thinks.
*
It’s the tail-end of one of those monstrous shifts, and Nino’s exhausted. Ever since he graduated from high school and decided that he wanted to pursue a medical degree, he’s kind of been chronically sleep-deprived. As if the usual stress is not enough, today had to be one of those days where he had to scrub in with Tegoshi, who took the lead for the operation. Sure, Tegoshi pummeled him in the hospital futsal tournament Nino was forced to take part in last year by Higashiyama-sensei, but he's no match for Nino in the operation room. He hates having to watch his incompetence, and it had grated on him today, as usual. Especially when it unnecesssarily placed the patient in danger.
“Kei-chan from radiology told me that Tegoshi’s a ‘grower’,” Aiba says, as they wash the blood and bodily fluids away from their gloves.
“A grower.”
“He grows on you!”
Tegoshi saunters out of the operating room, greeting everyone with a smile. “That was fairly successful, yeah?”
“If your definition of success is the brink of manslaughter, then yes, it was a success.”
“Aww, Nino-chan, you’re always too foreboding! Lighten up, it’s just surgery.”
Nino really can’t believe that this guy is his main competition for the opening he has been working so hard for. Tegoshi dumps his scrubs with pompous cheerfulness and walks away. Aiba puts his hand on his hip. “Grower,” he repeats.
“Kei-chan from radiology must be a very, very patient person,” Nino grumbles.
“Well, maybe spending all that time with X-rays and CT-scans can kind of mess with your perception. All those magnetic vibrations, right? Gets you fuzzy and all.”
“Fuzzy? How did you ever graduate from Todai?” Aiba shoves him lightly.
He trudges to the on-call wing and could barely muster the energy to take a shower. When he finishes, he slumps in one of the lower bunk beds, checking his appointments for the next day. It’s the only time he realizes that he missed one with an “Ohno Satoshi”. Luckily, he finds his chart easily and scrounges up his number without much guilt at the invasion.
The thing is, Ohno Satoshi sounds musical on the phone, his voice gentle and a little boyish. He may be far away, but Nino feels like Ohno is talking directly to his ear, mouth on the shell of his lobes, closer than he was last time. Ohno accuses him of sniffing through private records, which Nino counters by saying that patients don’t usually try their pick-up lines on him.
“Who says I was just trying it? I meant it,” Ohno says with shy aplomb, and before Nino knows it, he’s agreed to meet up with Ohno in a coffee shop near the hospital. For a second, he wonders if his ragged jeans and old sweater are less than impressive-but just for a second, because all that matters is that he smells decent and his clothes are actually clean and gunk-free.
He waits for Ohno downstairs, the nippy spring air pleasant and fragrant in his nose. When he walks up the path with a small wave, Nino questions his memory a little bit, because he doesn’t remember him looking this good-apart from the abs, of course, which are unfortunately covered tonight anyway. He’s just in jeans, like Nino, but there’s something about his smile that gets Nino this time. It takes him awhile to figure out how best to describe it.
He places it when he’s only a few feet away. Ohno’s smile is shy but eager as he jogs lightly up the slope. Nino always falls for the dark, moody ones, yet something about this guy just screams “uncomplicated”.
“Nino.”
“Ohno…san?”
“We’ll work on making that more casual?” he says, a small dimple by the side of his mouth blooming. Nino is tickled by the confidence that he now sees to be genuine, with just a tiny hint of shyness. The walk to the café is a pleasant one. It’s late-or should Nino say, early in the morning-and there’s hardly anyone on the streets of Hongo, a university neighborhood. Apart from the memorable pick-up lines, Ohno isn’t as talkative as he appeared to be the first two times they met, so Nino doesn’t feel any pressure to be an interesting conversationalist either. At 1 in the morning, Nino’s fine with talking about how quiet everything is, what a tiring day it was, how the cherry blossoms are beginning to fall off.
They settle in a small establishment that Ohno promises was “recommended by Sho-kun via Tabelog”, whatever that means. It’s one of those places that Nino won’t ever be caught dead patronizing-the austere cement table tops and designer wooden chairs are sure signs that his coffee will not come at less than four-hundred yen-his personal threshold for a serving of caffeine. He turns towards Ohno. “This is your treat?”
He looks a bit surprised. “You mean the coffee?”
“Yes, I’m not used to coffee that doesn’t come from a vending machine. There’s no way I’m paying for something I might not even enjoy.”
“Well, I did ask you out,” he says, shrugging. Nino honestly meant it as a joke, but Ohno seems so chill about the whole thing, so he decides not to correct it. They choose a table beside the glass window, which had an unobstructed view of the sleepy sidewalk. Ohno’s salad and juice arrive-“What kind of person orders salad at this time?” “A hungry one. Don’t mock my cravings.”-and right after that, Nino’s melon bread and a cortado with latte art.
“Thank you for the fanciest yet smallest cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life,” he says, raising it to his lips.
“You can thank Sho-kun.”
“To be honest, Sho-kun sounds like a priss.” Ohno’s cheeks puff in amusement, stuck mid-chew. “Not that I’m judging your close friend or boyfriend or whoever he is.”
Ohno’s eyes track up at him. “Well, he is a bit uptight.”
“So is he?”
“Is he what?”
“Your boyfriend.”
“It’s past midnight and I picked you up at work. We’re in a super-duper stylish café. What do you think?”
It hits Nino with a startling clarity. He grins. “That you’ve never had a boyfriend before.”
At this, Ohno dribbles a bit of his juice to his shirt, which he quickly pats dry with tissue. His cheeks are a bit pink, and Nino doesn’t think it’s from the crisp spring air either-Ohno doesn’t look so smug now. Nino could only enjoy the show, finding him cuter for it. Just like their walk, their conversation is casual and light-just what Nino needed. He observes that Ohno has a dazed expression half the time, but whenever he replies, Nino could tell that he had been listening. He appreciates it, not realizing that he’s gone so long without talking to someone outside the hospital. Nino talks and Ohno listens, a bit of dressing peeking on the corner of his mouth. Even the way he licks it off is cute.
They finish their post-midnight snack, both of them lingering on their seats, enjoying each other’s laidback company. It’s only when Ohno yawns, a shameless full stretch that makes his shirt hike up just enough, that Nino decides, on a whim, to ask him to head back home with him.
To Ohno’s credit, he doesn’t even blink and nods, standing up to pay for the bill, which Nino feels a little-just a little-guilty about. In the dim sidewalk, he touches Nino’s wrist. “We don’t have to go back to your place. I mean, I can just see you off there. I’ll walk you.”
“Aren’t you romantic.”
“Shut up, I’m not,” Ohno protests, promptly letting go of his wrist.
Nino laughs. “The trains aren’t running yet, you know,” he says, heart thudding stupidly despite his casual tone. “You can sleep on the couch. I can wash your shirt for you too.”
Ohno looks at him, taking a moment to decide. “Only if it’s not a hassle for you.” Nino shakes his head. That’s how they find themselves walking to his place, just several blocks away from the café. They enter in silence, with Ohno only speaking up when he sees Nino’s extensive gaming nook, with two televisions and several consoles hooked up neatly.
“This…should I be scared?”
“My hands need some diversion from blood and guts,” Nino explains. “At least, metaphorically.” It takes a minute for Ohno to stop gaping.
He gives Ohno a towel and allows him to freshen up, gesturing to the couch when he’s done. Ohno’s cheeks float just above the thick edges, tucked under one of his old checkered blankets.
“Thanks for letting me crash. I’ll be out of your hair before you wake up.”
Nino considers him. “Don’t be.” He switches the lamp off before he could see Ohno’s reaction, before he tries to convince himself to drive out this virtual stranger from his home. Nino is rarely ever reckless, but for some reason, he just knows that Ohno is a little different, a good kind of different. When he’s finally in bed, it’s only exhaustion that allows him to fall asleep and not ponder why his patient from a few days ago is now sleeping in his own house.
No matter how well-built said patient is.
*
When Ohno wakes up, he feels a little disoriented. The beige walls and blackout curtains don’t look like they belong to his own apartment. It’s the whiff of cooking eggs that jolts him back to what happened the night before and whose couch he’s been sleeping on. His eyes take a bit of getting used to the semi-dark apartment, squinting at the small figure from across the room. Oh. There are a few errant butterflies making somersaults in his belly as he watches Nino bustling about barefoot.
“You’re a vampire,” Ohno says, aware that his voice sounds groggy as he takes small, sleepy steps toward Nino. His host turns towards him with a small smile.
“My eyes usually need a bit of adjustment time after gaming the whole night,” Nino explains, returning to his cooking. Ohno eyes his bare legs in his boxers appreciatively. They are thin and kind of pale, but also cute. He finds almost everything about Nino cute, which he knows is the beginning of a downward spiral, one that he is already welcoming with open arms. Ohno could become addicted to this, to seeing Nino in boxer shorts, a brown apron tied haphazardly at his back, cooking him breakfast. Or, wait…is that too presumptuous?
“You are cooking me breakfast, right?”
Nino laughs, plating up some eggs, toast, then stirring a small pot of what smells like miso soup. “You’re a demanding boarder. The trains are up and running already, you know.”
Ohno plants himself on the small dining table, right next to the stove. “It’s a Sunday.” His thoughts ring with the memory of Nino telling him, in not so many words, to stay. He’ll be glad to follow through on that, especially with the way Nino sidles up in front of him, laying a plate of home-cooked goodness on the table.
“Eat,” Nino orders him, and Ohno doesn’t spare a moment to oblige him, happy in this moment. The food is simple but delicious, so much so that he almost misses how Nino seemingly has a smaller appetite and barely picks at his food. They eat companionably, until Ohno feels something bristling against his shin. Oh. What.
He tries not to let his surprise show, even though he can feel his ears reddening. Frankly, Ohno doesn’t know if Nino just happened to graze his leg with his foot accidentally, but he ignores it, his eyes trained on the food. They finish eating without ceremony, and even though it was a satisfying meal, Ohno’s nerves are frazzled. Even just Nino’s chair scraping against the wooden floor makes him jumpy.
He freshens up after breakfast, taking a quick shower and brushing with Nino’s extra toothbrush. Ohno takes his time, ignoring the beginnings of a hard-on, blasting the cold water on without mercy. Maybe he’s just imagining things, and maybe, just maybe, he’s getting ahead of himself. There’s a voice at the back of his head that says that if this were a girl, he would have already taken over and written his own rules. In this instance, Ohno suddenly realizes, he is out of his depth. As he towels off, he is inundated by how infuriating Nino is, and the polarity of the tiny, pale collarbones peeking out of his ratty shirt and the way he had straddled that bloody patient-so capable and in command during an emergency. Ohno feels overwhelmed by his attraction that he’s tempted to rub a quick one off, just to get it over with, even if he’s newly showered and dressed in Nino’s threadbare sweats. He imagines telling Nino what to do.
He imagines Nino following.
He’s starting to get into his daydream when when Nino knocks on the door, making him jump in his skin. Ohno has no choice but to hastily tug up his pants and open the door, feeling on edge and thrilled-it’s almost the same thrill that he gets as he charges into a dangerous situation. Nino stands there. He isn’t smiling, not really. But there is a mischievous light in his eyes, and Ohno tugs on both ends of the towel slung around his neck as he steps out of the bathroom, somehow feeling that he’s on the edge of something. Nino steps into his space, reaching to close the door behind Ohno. He crowds him in, forcing Ohno to lean against the door, fingertips like heat stamps on his damp, bare chest.
“You forgot to give me a shirt,” Ohno says, slow to realize, pulse starting to ripple.
“I’m a doctor, I don’t ‘forget’ things.” Nino’s hand snake up his collar bone to the sinew of his neck, his other hand resting on his chest, gingerly avoiding the bandage. Oh.
“Don’t get cute with me, sensei.” An empty threat to accompany the lump on his throat.
“Oh? I thought we were way past that, Ohno-san.” There is no time to think, not when Nino leans up a fraction, kissing him squarely on the lips. This, Ohno can instantly understand. It’s better this way, because he prefers this to thinking-his instincts taking over in a sharp turn, his body adept at interpreting signals, neurons firing off orders to his limbs.
He loves the appreciative grunt Nino makes when he flips them over, deepening the kiss as he pins Nino against the door. There is no mistaking that Nino’s arms, no matter how lean, are that of a man’s, and Ohno, in a rush, realizes that he doesn’t hate it-on the contrary. Nino’s hands grasp at Ohno’s elbows, pliant now as Ohno kisses him with slow but equal enthusiasm. Everything feels warm, so heated up in an instant, and Nino inches in closer, slipping him the tongue. He feels like he’s been plunged under water, floating, colors suffusing around them as Nino keens into him. Ohno sighs, unable to comprehend anything else except how Nino-and making out with Nino like teenagers-just makes sense.
He is drowning in Nino when his back pocket vibrates. The familiar punchy notes play and sound ominously loud, breaking their gasping rhythm. Ohno breaks away, hand fumbling for his phone, face turning red in embarrassment. “I’m…sorry. Have to answer this.”
“Your ring tone is the Rocky theme,” Nino says evenly, lips looking unabashedly plush and red.
“Yes.”
Nino’s unbelieving expression makes Ohno want to crawl back into the bathroom. There’s a smile that’s playing there.
“This will be real quick,” Ohno says, letting him go and walking away as the ring tone takes on a more imperious octave.
“You’re not kidding.”
He shakes his head and takes the call in the corner, where Nino won’t hear him. Ohno isn’t one to shirk his duties, but just this once, as he’s hearing about the details of his next deployment, he wishes that he can end the call and not have to go.
Which is impossible, of course. Talk about horrible timing.
Nino is opening the curtains when he finally finishes with his call. He is set to leave from the Iruma Air Base in two hours, with a C-20J ready to drop them off from Okinawa, their first and last fuel stop before heading to Kabul. It leaves Ohno with only enough time to head back to barracks to grab his gear before heading to Saitama, where the base is located-not that he could tell Nino any of that. He watches Nino sipping on his probably now cold coffee, his face bathed in mid-morning sunlight. There is nothing more Ohno wants to do than stride across the room to hike up his mustard yellow shirt, to have him on the floor, to kiss him more. His mini daydream makes his head spin.
He sighs as he pockets his phone. “Work stuff. I have to go.” His own voice sounds small to him.
“Oh.”
Nino disappears to an adjoining room and resurfaces a minute later, tossing his newly laundered shirt to him. “Thanks.” He puts it on and gathers his pants, stuffing them in a paper bag that Nino hands to him. Ohno doesn’t know how to say goodbye without it being awkward-in the first place, he doesn’t want to leave at all. Nino watches him as he leans over the genkan, toeing his shoes on.
“I’ll call you.”
“If this is your way of saying you’re not interested, or this isn’t your thing-”
Ohno’s heart falls, aghast and intrigued at how soft Nino seems now. He hops over to him. “No.” Nino’s eyes consider him carefully. “No, I’m more than interested, and I’d like to see you again.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ohno pulls him in for a kiss, feeling Nino smile against his lips.
*
>> Part 2
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ohno/Nino, Sho/Jun
Word count: 26,634
Summary: Nino is a talented young surgeon who is at a crossroads in his medical career. Ohno is the fearless Captain of Japan’s elite Special Forces Group. Their paths cross with a blaze in Japan, but things do not work out. Months later, they are surprised to find each other in the same UN outpost at Cyprus, both on missions of their own.
Warnings/Notes: My 2016 offering for ninoexchange. Fic is adapted from the hit Korean drama Descendants of the Sun. Slight violence, perilous situations, mentions of injuries. Possibly dubious medical and military terminology.
“My head’s spinning, Sho-kun.”
Sho laughs. “What kind of Leader are you if you can’t handle a few extra shots?”
“A super sleepy one.”
They amble together down the road, their mid-day sake and highball binge sloshing in their bellies. Granted, they keep weird hours for their drinking sprees, but what are soldiers on-call like them supposed to do? Never drink again?
That, and First Lieutenant Sakurai Sho pretty much never takes no for an answer, whether it’s work or play. It’s one of his best and worst qualities, in Ohno’s opinion. He wonders where Sho gets his energy, even after a 48-hour no-wink mission. The man is a horrible workaholic and seems to run on his own stubborness. As for Ohno, his own buzz combined with the impending jet lag will knock him out for sure-yet that should probably be the least of his concerns. He touches the raw, violet patch of skin by his lower rib. It doesn’t hurt that much right now, but all bets are off once the alcohol wears off.
Sho stops him by the chest, making him stumble forward. He nods to a scuffle on the side street, right beside the Family Mart that they frequent.
“Ooh, sandwiches?” he asks, thinking he won’t terribly mind having one of Sho’s favorite konbini cucumber sandwiches before he crashes. He's kind of hungry, now that he thinks about it. A bit of recovery food never hurt anyone.
“No, I meant, we should do something.” The fighting ramps up, evident even from a block away. Seven people, with a rather young looking guy getting pretty banged up in the middle of it all. Probably yakuza-related, he thinks, and absolutely none of their damn business.
Ohno barely supresses a yawn. “We’re in civilian clothes. Let’s call the cops and sleep.”
“You know that’s going to solve nothing, right?” Sho always gets straight to the point when he knows he’s right.
“But this is my only decent spring jacket, my mom just got it for me,” Ohno pouts.
“She’ll get you another one. Also, don’t we have a duty to uphold?” No, not really, Ohno thinks. It’s noon and where he wants to be is on his couch, napping away his headache-not in the middle of some petty brawl.
Sho takes off his jacket, which is always a bad sign. He eggs Ohno on. “Oh c’mon, it will be done in a second, you know it will be. The hospital’s even nearby!”
“I’m tired-,” he says, but of course, Sho is already jogging towards the commotion.
“Leader, hurry!” He recognizes the glint Sho gets in his eyes when they are in a mission and lives are at stake. The thing with Sho is that he’s always been indiscriminate about when to jump in, sometimes almost dangerously temperamental to a fault-if it means he can stop someone from getting hurt. Never mind that they just practically saved the occupants of an entire building less than 24 hours ago. Never mind that this little street scuffle can be sorted out by the local police.
He sighs. Ohno Satoshi has no choice-he will follow Sho down to every shady corner, no matter how sleepy and tired he is. It’s second nature to him.
Not for the first time, he wonders why he’s best buddies with someone so troublesome like Sho. As he jumps and crashes joylessly into the fray of punches, he thinks about how welcoming his bed will be later.
*
“How would you rate the pain from 1-10?”
“10, obviously! Now could you just please give me something for the pain? I have a meeting I can’t miss in a couple of hours.”
Nino’s face shows no reaction as he palpates different parts of his patient’s stomach. As far as he can tell, there is no inflammation, no suspect tenderness or pain that would warrant a “10”. He looks at the chart the middle-aged office lady filled up and grimly prescribes her a pain medication. There are some battles he doesn’t need to fight, if he wants to remain sane.
Nurse Aiba calls his attention from across the emergency ward by waving his hand enthusiastically, mint green scrubs hiking up his belly. Nino approaches him, sighing. He’s already told Aiba a million times not to move and bustle around so much in the emergency room-not that he ever listens. Nino has never met a chirpier nurse, cheerful even in the face of blood and guts. He’s always wondered if there was a special Aiba-only clause of "I promise that sunshine will thus shine out of my every orifice" as part of his nurse’s pledge. Nino’s had asked him once in spite, and Aiba only patted his head condescendingly, asking him if he wanted to go to yakiniku after their shift.
“Ninomiya-sensei, we have a patient in Bed 5 who might need some sutures on his right brow. A couple of broken bones too, maybe.” Aiba leans over to him conspiratorially. “I think he got it trying to escape from the cops!”
It’s not like Nino’s not used to the bustle and unpredictability of hospitals. He didn’t go through almost a decade of med school to settle into a boring practice. After all, the thing that he appreciates the most about being in surgery is that it’s kind of like a game. That, and he’s forced to get along with people, like Aiba, who, for all his enthusiasm, Nino is actually fond of. Not that Aiba needs to know that. But he ignores Aiba’s energized buzzing and turns his attention to the patient, asking him standard questions.
“I don’t want to be treated, okay? You can’t force me!”
Nino puts on his most simpering smile for the youngster with a rather yankee look. He gets patients of this type every once in awhile-problematic ones who try to make his job harder when it could be so, so easy. By the looks of it too, possibly entangled with the police. “Kikuchi Fuma, isn’t it? Says here you’re a minor.” he says, consulting his clipboard.
“That’s none of your business. Now can I go?”
“You can, but you may not. At least, not until you get an MRI,” Nino says. He passes the chart to Aiba. “Congratulations, you are now in charge of Fuma-kun here.”
“Blondie. Used to have hair like that,” Aiba whispers longingly. Nino digs his elbow into his chest and exits without a word. After all, he has a lot of paperwork to do. There’s a pack of melon bread and a can of stringent black coffee waiting for him in his office. He hasn’t sat in five hours, long enough for him to actually look forward to a pile of monotonous paperwork. He’s hardly settled in when Aiba returns to him with a panicked face.
“Fuma-kun is gone,” he says.
“What do you mean gone?” Nino stands up and storms to the beds, Aiba trailing behind him. The patient left his neck brace and arm sling on the unmade bed, accidentally leaving his phone in his apparent haste to escape. Nino picks it up, pressing the home button. The wallpaper is a blurry shot of a bonsai tree, but there are no messages or calls-no clues at all. He shoots a dirty look at Aiba.
“I only grabbed some bandages for Nakai-senpai, I swear! I mean, have you met Nakai-senpai? And really, it was just two minutes, max.”
Nino sighs. He looks out the window, and by luck, he sees the patient, limping slowly as he’s about the cross the road. “There!” he says to Aiba, who, to his credit, doesn’t spare any moment to jog from the emergency area to catch the escaping teenager. Aiba looks triumphant as he brings him back in a wheelchair, accompanied by hospital security.
“Isn’t this harrassment?” he says, looking surly. “I don’t want to be treated!”
He gets tucked back into bed. Nino smiles. “That’s your choice, but we just have to wait for your guardian so he can sign off on all responsibilities. Frankly, I don’t want to be sued. Or, we could also let the police take over. There’s that. Had a scuffle lately, Fuma-kun?”
“It’s Kikuchi,” the blonde-haired teenager snarls, but otherwise backing down.
“Fuma-kun,” Nino repeats. He signals for equipment. “That’s a nasty cut. Might as well allow us to have a go at it, yes?”
Fuma crosses his arms in recognizable defiance. Nino works with efficiency on his brow laceration, pleased enough that the patient is lying still. He is on the last couple of stitches when a shrill melody buzzes in his pocket, vibrating right by his thigh. Nino has a moment of confusion-he never has his phone with him while he’s on duty-when he remembers that it’s the patient's.
“Want me to answer it?”
“Huh? Answer your own damn phone,” Fuma says, as Nino sets his tools down and fishes for the ringing device. “So irritating.”
“What do you mean?”
Fuma just turns away. Nino rolls his eyes and presses the green call button. “Hello?”
“Hello,” says a relaxed voice through the phone, but Nino also hears it from behind him. He wheels around to see a man standing a pace away from him, a phone nestled against his ear as well. “Ahh, so it’s you,” the man says.
“Excuse me?” Nino puts down the phone. “Are you Fuma-kun’s guardian?” The boy shakes his head furiously when Nino turns to him.
The man in worn-looking jeans and a rather short haircut sighs, as if it was a waste of time to be there right at that moment. “No, sensei. You see, that phone you’re holding right now? It’s my friend’s, and I kind of need it back. We’ve been looking all over for him.”
“I’ve never seen him before in my life,” Fuma says, turning away from them.
“But I just saved-”
“Please.” Nino narrows his eyes at the signs of a brawl on the stranger’s clothes-the dirt on his jeans, a sprinkle of blood on his jacket. His mind turns, connecting the dots. He’s used to shady business in the emergency room, and seeing that Fuma’s a minor, he needs to be especially careful. “You need to leave right now, or I’m going to call the police on you.”
“No one’s going to call the police,” he says calmly, leaning against the front bed railings. “Sensei, this is simple, really. Just give me back the phone.”
Nino stands up. He hates patronizing people who feel like who can barge in at work and tell him what to do, in a lazy drawl at that. “Do not lean over my patient’s bed. Step away.” He nods to Aiba. “Call the security, Aiba-san.”
The man straighten up and sighs. “Fine, I’m going. I’ll still be needing that phone back, though.” Nino looks at him in irritation as he shuffles out of the emergency room. He resumes stitching Fuma up, grumbling. “You need to stop hanging out with those kinds of characters, Fuma-kun. I don’t want to see you back here in a body bag.”
“If I were in a body bag, I’d already be in the morgue now, wouldn’t I?”
He musters all his patience and focuses all his attention on the stitches. He really doesn’t need another patient smartmouthing him, he has enough to think about as it is. The results for the professor slot is coming soon. That little shit Tegoshi has been wearing his patience thin with his canny proclamations and weird skull bracelets. Morbid, much? And seriously, how can someone who can barely sew up a simple laceration be his main competition? Nino’s worked too hard all these years to give it all up to someone whom he’d very much like to kick in the ass, and not just metaphorically too.
When his shift finishes, all he wants to do is to take a quick shower and maybe squeeze in a bit of hunting-Aiba had slipped him a copy of Witcher 3 and Aiba’s taste in games is one of the few things he can trust him with. Lately, he’s also been thinking that his PS4 is starting to feel neglected.
The phone in his pocket rings again. Nino puts it on silent mode, ready to just hand it to Lost and Found. He staggers when he bumps into someone in the lobby.
“Excuse me…oh, it’s you again!” Nino exclaims in agitation. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”
“Sensei, please.” The man pouts. “I waited for your shift to end. The phone? My friend will come himself, but he’s just busy…negotiating.”
“I don’t know if you’re a bit slow, but I meant what I said-I will call the cops.”
“No need to be so hasty. You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you investigate things first before you reach a conclusion?”
“That’s rich. You’re a bully who gangs up on teenagers and here you are telling me to be the better person.” Nino gets the phone and dials the emergency number. Before he’s able to place it against his ear, the man snatches it from his hand with a a flourish. Nino would be impressed, except this is really eating away at his already minimal gaming time, and just who did this person think he was? He reaches out his hand in impatience.
“Give that back. You know I can just go to the front desk and have you arrested for disturbing the peace, right?”
The man ends the pending call with a small smile, as if amused with what Nino just said. “Sorry about that. But I’m not the person you think I am. Also my friend really needs that phone back, his iCal is all nice and synced up in there. I would hate to be the one who takes his precious schedule away from him.”
Nino presses the bridge of his nose. “I really have no time for this. I’m calling security.”
Right before he walks away, the man grabs his arm, swift and strong. When Nino spins toward him, the man’s eyes are pleading, almost puppy-like, which momentarily confuses Nino. He tries to wiggle away from his grasp, but finds it impossible-his outfit, a gray jacket and loose jeans, made him look lethargic in a way that he obviously isn’t. It only irritates Nino further. “Let me go.”
“Please, wait, I really don’t want to do paper work, you see-”
“What are you talking about? Let me go! What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh, he’s here, he can explain,” he says, face brightening up, letting Nino go just like that. He nods to a person approaching them, someone who looks a little too mirthful for someone who has a scratch on his face, to Nino’s consternation.
“Leader, why are you harassing the doctor! I told you to just get the phone.”
“He wasn’t harassing me-” Nino grumbles, “also, who the hell are you? Are you this con-man’s friend? Because if you are, you’re both in trouble.”
“Sakurai Sho, at your service,” he says, doing a little ridiculous bow, while also making his companion bend down. “This one here is Ohno Satoshi. I apologize for his lack of diplomacy, it’s not one of his strong points.” At this point, Nino couldn’t care less and would have turned them in instantly, except he spies who was lurking behind this Sakurai Sho person: Fuma, in a wheelchair, eyes looking swollen and red.
Nino tenses up, concern for his patient flooding his thoughts. “Fuma-kun, did this man hurt you? Are you okay?”
Fuma shakes his head. At this point, Sho explains everything, with Fuma nodding at the appropriate moments. Nino’s head spins at the convoluted story, and prioritizes getting the nurses to wheel Fuma back to his bed. Sho goes with him without question.
“You don’t believe Sho-kun,” the one named Ohno says, almost mournful.
“Why should I believe either of you? How is he his guardian now? And you, well. Just a whole bag of suspicious, with your cuts and all. I’m reporting the two of you after I check in again on Fuma-kun, who better not be exhausted by his little outing to the lobby, thanks to your ‘Sho-kun’.”
Ohno groans. “Seriously, that’s gonna be such a hassle.”
“Yes, so don’t make it more complicated. Please leave me alone, Ohno-san. I have far better things to do, like report you,” Nino says.
“Wait! Wait, if I can prove the story, will you just let it go? I swear to god Sho-kun’s telling the truth. You know what, I’m sure they got it on tape.” Something about his eyes makes Nino stop, for some reason. It’s a weird kind of sincerity, and Nino would know it would gnaw at him if he didn’t get to the bottom of today’s mix-up. Besides, it’s his stupid responsibility now that Fuma isn’t in harm’s way. Somehow, the two of them find themselves in the security room where all the monitors are. The guard on duty scrubs back the footage to earlier that day.
And so Nino finds out that they really weren’t lying. Nino watches with no expression on his face, but he’s pretty impressed at how they dismantled and dispersed the gang who was actually behind beating up Fuma, just around the corner from the hospital. He watches the brutal but precise punches Ohno throws, enough to hurt but not maim, at the ring leader of the gang, a much bigger guy than Ohno. It’s beautiful, in a grotesque kind of way. Like it was choreographed, feet turning surely, fists landing cleanly. Nino looks at his hands in front of his face. He would never throw them in a punch-his hands are for making microscopic incisions, or at already its most violent, for smashing controllers. Ohno, for some reason, watches him looking at his hands. He withdraws them.
Back on the screen, Sho has a henchman in some kind of choke hold. With a small movement, Fuma slips his hand in his pocket. Nino grimaces at that. Sho and Ohno eventually disappear from the screen, on the heels of the stragglers from the gang.
They stop watching after security guards arrive on the scene, and only an ailing Fuma is left. Ohno grins at him, a touch smug. Nino ignores him.
They leave the security room in silence, all the way up to the ramp that leads to the main building. He couldn’t resist not knowing. After seeing the footage, it was a miracle that Ohno doesn’t look more beaten up. “So, are you two cops?”
“Well, kind of.”
He would ask for his badge, but then Nino settles for accepting the rather uptight short hair as enough proof. He gazes at him, noticing his features-nothing out of the ordinary, but with a kind of delicacy that doesn’t make him look like the brusque type. Ohno meets his eyes, brows quirking. Nino looks away. They don’t talk until they reach the entrance of the emergency ward.
“This is me,” Nino says. “I need to check up on Fuma-kun.”
“I’ll go with you. Sho-kun’s probably waiting there as well.”
Nino doesn’t even try to shake him off, tired of his dogged persistence. When they reach Fuma’s bed, Sho is looking over him. “He just fell asleep. Ninomiya-sensei, I’ll pay for his treatment, if that’s okay. You and I both know this kid doesn’t have a guardian.”
Nino shrugs and doesn’t argue with him. Aiba told him as much after he asked him to find out about his background. “Why are you this nice to a kid who stole your phone after you saved his ass?”
Sho shrugs. “Well, let’s just say I can relate.”
Nino doesn’t even want to know, so he doesn’t say anything.
“Thanks for everything.” Sho nods at Ohno. “Leader, let’s go?”
Nino remembers something. “Um, Sakurai-san, someone’s been trying to call your phone all day. No name, just an international number. I answered it once because it wouldn’t stop.”
“Oh.”
“I kind of told him you were in the hospital, thinking he was looking for Fuma-kun. He says, and I quote, ‘You better be okay or I’m going to kill you in person. With a spoon.’ Sounds like a nice guy.”
Ohno chortles, and Sho only grunts in reply.
“Whoever he is, he thinks you have broken bones. So, I don’t know, maybe call him back.”
“Uh, thanks for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome,” Nino replies, wondering why this conversation is still ongoing.
“Leader, we’re going!”
“Bye, sensei,” Ohno says, nodding at Nino with a strange expression and walking out with Sho. What kind of nickname is Leader anyway? Nino wrings his hands. It’s been a long day, and it was made even longer than necessary by those two idiots. The bright side is that he doesn’t have to file reports. He checks if everything’s in order before he turns around to leave, psyched that his PS4 will take a beating tonight.
*
Ohno, by nature, is a quiet person. It’s why it doesn’t come to his mind that it might possibly be weird that he doesn’t say a word when Ninomiya finally spots him. His expression is unreadable, and Ohno musters up a neutral smile, waving his fingers. He really hadn’t planned on going back to the hospital so soon, but it was all he could think of last night. It’s not something that happens often.
Ohno doesn’t have a type, but if he had one, it would be the sharp-mouthed doctor that he had to deal with yesterday. Who is he to question the fact that he finds his face cute-the knobby nose, the scowl too? Even if said person was decidedly a man? He couldn’t sit still with the curiosity niggling at him, the almost childish desire to see his face again. He wants to confirm something.
“Ninomiya Kazunari-sensei,” he says, pleased to read his nametag. “I’m back.”
The doctor gives him a staredown and is about to walk away from him. Ohno grabs him by the wrist. “Wait!”
“You have an annoying habit of doing that,” he says, shaking Ohno’s hold off. At this, Ohno winces, and by instinct, raises two arms in the air.
“I’m sorry, really sorry. Won’t do it again. ”
The corner of Ninomiya’s mouth angles up. “Stop that. It looks like I’m terrorizing you.”
Ohno drops his arms. “But you are.”
“I’m what?”
“Terrorizing me. At least you were, in my dreams last night.”
He stares at Ohno. There’s a moment where Ohno thinks the line flew past the doctor’s head-and now that he said it, he much prefers that it did-but no, it didn’t, judging by his reaction. His ears heat up when he hears Ninomiya-sensei laughing as he hikes up the bridge of his eyeglasses with a finger.
“Color me disappointed if that’s the best you have.” There’s a hesitant warmth there, almost a glint of understanding, and Ohno will take it. He is so cute damn it!
“Ninomiya-sensei, I didn’t come here just to throw a pick-up line at you.”
“No?”
It hits him so suddenly, he thinks he probably looks stupid when he smiles in realization. He does have a reason to be here. When he explains to Ninomiya-sensei that he has a wound that needs some “gentle treatment”, the doctor snorts.
“Please. I don’t have time for this.” He almost leaves again when Ohno blocks his path and raises the left side of his shirt up with no scruples. Ohno watches Ninomiya-sensei's surprised look. His fingers automatically reach out to the side of bandage.
“I have no idea why it’s bleeding again, you see,” Ohno fake-mourns.
“The stitches probably opened up when you were fighting yesterday. How are you not limping right now?” Ninomiya-sensei does not sound impressed. He straightens out and signals for Ohno to follow him. Ohno’s taken aback that the doctor took his bait easily, so he walks after him in silence. With a perfunctory, almost bored voice, Ninomiya instructs him to sit down and remove his shirt. He complies. Ohno doesn’t think he’s just imagining Ninomiya taking a couple of seconds too long looking up and down his torso, and decidedly not where his fresh wound is. He jumps when cold fingertips brush against his obliques.
“Ticklish?”
“Very.”
Ninomiya begins removing the bloody gauze without much expression and proceeds to cleaning him up.
“You’re staring at my hands.”
“I’m just watching how you work. You’re good.” The doctor smirks.
Ohno can’t help it though. It’s transfixing to watch Ninomiya-sensei working his magic. Not that it’s anything new to him-the medical corp has probably sewn him up far too many times anyway-but it’s different when it’s someone he’s interested in. Ninomiya briefly touches the old wound by his waist, gaze lifting up at him.
“You have a bullet wound.”
“Do I,” Ohno says, brushing it off.
“How did you get it?”
“From shoveling,” he answers glibly, and Ninomiya doesn't say anything. Ohno truly believes in what he does, but the one thing he can’t do is talk about it to anyone. Which hasn’t really been a problem, because he never has the impulse to share a lot of information about himself with other people anyway. But somehow, this time around, he feels bad for the white lie.
Before he knows it, the stitches are done cleanly. Ninomiya tells him that he needs to see a doctor in a couple of days to see if they’re healing properly, and that he can leave.
“But I want you to be the one who checks it.”
“You just need to get your wound sanitized. You don’t need to come down all the way here to do it.”
“Oh, but I do,” Ohno says. “I wouldn’t trust the sanity of my wounds to just anyone.”
“Sanitation,” Ninomiya says, laughing. “Stand up, you’re free to go.” Ohno puts his shirt on.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Ohno asks, unable to resist. Ninomiya glances up at him.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he says, returning to cleaning up his work station.
“It’s not,” Ohno acknowledges. He’s not the type to pry, to be all up in someone’s business, but it seems like his mouth runs ahead of his brain in front of this doctor. The room feels like it’s getting smaller and hotter.
Ninomiya's eyes are shockingly dulcet and brown. Up close, he is even more arresting, the intriguing shape of his nose an invitation to look at his quirked lips. Ohno can’t stop staring.
He steps forward and pokes Ohno in the chest with his pen. “I’ll set an appointment for you at 4 the day after tomorrow. Don’t be late, I’m a very important person.”
Emboldened, he dares to lean in, his arm supporting him on the desk behind Ninomiya, who doesn’t flinch. He smells like fabric softener. “I’ll be here, Ninomiya-sensei.” His lips are only an inch away from the doctor’s ear.
“Good,” he says, shoving him away lightly. “Call me Nino. Oh, and I don’t do girlfriends.” He throws him a jaunty half-salute before he walks out of the room, not looking back once. Ohno’s heart is thumping.
Yes, confirmed-the doctor, no, Nino, does have a mole on his chin. Ohno’s never met someone with that exact mole placement. Someone he’s kind of attracted to, who happens to not do girlfriends.
He knows, in that moment, that he’s pretty much textbook screwed.
*
It’s been another long day. Nino can’t possibly forget that he has an “appointment” in the afternoon-Aiba has been reminding him over and over again. In fact, he couldn’t stop teasing him about it since he confirmed it this morning. “I know you like those aggressive types! He didn’t look it at first, but I’ve never seen you redder than when you stepped out of that room yesterday! Are you interested? Oh my god, you are interested!” Aiba exclaims, harassing him all over his shift.
Frankly, Nino only started paying real attention to Ohno the moment he removed his shirt-which makes him a shallow person, but who wouldn’t be, when you see someone built like a tank, all taut skin and lean bulk? It’s especially disarming when it’s a guy with sleepy eyes who looks pretty normal when dressed. Nino’s hardly a prude, but he feels faint just thinking about his fingers brushing against those defined abs and how Ohno leaned in to him so surely.
To be honest, it’s not his first proposition in the emergency room, but it’s certainly the first one he’s entertained. He looks at his watch, wondering when Ohno was going to get here. Aiba smiles as he walks in, tossing a chart to him. “A little stalking?”
“You’re horrible.”
Nino reads through his chart. 1980? So he’s just a few years older. There’s nothing else interesting on it, apart from the fact that he might be just a few centimeters taller than this Ohno guy, and that he has abnormally pretty handwriting. “Look, this is how you should fill in all those forms. Asami-chan won’t stop complaining to me about your penmanship!”
Aiba spins in the office chair. “She can still read it, right? Asami-chan’s just being a tyrant.”
“You know, I see you following her around like a puppy all the time. Does she play fetch with you?”
“Scoff all you want. It’s a sound strategy.”
Nino’s about to retort when Asami herself bursts through the curtain. “Ambulance arriving in five,” she says, and both Nino and Aiba stand up, jogging with her to the outdoor receiving area as she briefs them. “53 year-old man, car crash. Broken ribs. Possible splenic rupture.”
He feels the familiar rousing pump of blood in his veins, the stark calm clearing his brain of anything else other than the necessary information. As the ambulance rounds the corner, sirens blaring, Nino is nothing but calm and ready. This is what he’s trained to do, and he’s good at it.
*
Ohno has been waiting all day to finish overseeing drills for his unit. After lunch in the mess hall with everyone, he freshens up. As the train stations fly by, he thinks about how he’s never this impulsive in other areas of his life. At work, everything is calculated, with every accompanying risk assessed properly and contingency plans set in place. Outside of it, he finds it a relief that he can be almost inert and passive. He always needs time to be still-time for himself where he doesn’t have to make decisions that almost always have massive implications.
But this, him, now, sitting in an almost empty train car heading towards Hongo-Sanchome station, is entirely unplanned and highly proactive of him. He can’t even explain to himself why he is so drawn to that doctor, why the attraction was so instant that he can’t even pinpoint where it started. Granted, he’s been attracted to other men before, but he’s never had to-or wanted to-chase after them. But there’s something about Nino that he just can’t leave up to fate.
He finally arrives at The University of Tokyo Hospital with ten minutes to spare before his appointment. He’s really excited to see Nino’s face again-this time, he vows to remember more details about it. Ohno’s only on his way to where Nino treated his wound before when the emergency area’s door hinges out with brute force. A gurney rolls out, pushed by a male and female nurse. They rush past him. Ohno wouldn’t have recognized the dead-serious doctor squatting on top of the patient if he didn’t hear his voice booming out across the hall.
“Hurry,” Nino commands, his eyes focused. His white coat is already bloody up to his waist where he’s trying to stem the blood flow from the patient’s abdominal area.
Something clicks in Ohno’s head and he jogs over to help them push the gurney faster. They don’t even flinch at him-maybe because they do go faster with his help. Nino’s back is to him, so of course, he doesn’t see Ohno. When they reach the surgical ward, Ohno lets go and stays behind the doors, watching Nino’s back grow smaller in the tiny circular window.
Nino is kind of hot, he thinks.
*
It’s the tail-end of one of those monstrous shifts, and Nino’s exhausted. Ever since he graduated from high school and decided that he wanted to pursue a medical degree, he’s kind of been chronically sleep-deprived. As if the usual stress is not enough, today had to be one of those days where he had to scrub in with Tegoshi, who took the lead for the operation. Sure, Tegoshi pummeled him in the hospital futsal tournament Nino was forced to take part in last year by Higashiyama-sensei, but he's no match for Nino in the operation room. He hates having to watch his incompetence, and it had grated on him today, as usual. Especially when it unnecesssarily placed the patient in danger.
“Kei-chan from radiology told me that Tegoshi’s a ‘grower’,” Aiba says, as they wash the blood and bodily fluids away from their gloves.
“A grower.”
“He grows on you!”
Tegoshi saunters out of the operating room, greeting everyone with a smile. “That was fairly successful, yeah?”
“If your definition of success is the brink of manslaughter, then yes, it was a success.”
“Aww, Nino-chan, you’re always too foreboding! Lighten up, it’s just surgery.”
Nino really can’t believe that this guy is his main competition for the opening he has been working so hard for. Tegoshi dumps his scrubs with pompous cheerfulness and walks away. Aiba puts his hand on his hip. “Grower,” he repeats.
“Kei-chan from radiology must be a very, very patient person,” Nino grumbles.
“Well, maybe spending all that time with X-rays and CT-scans can kind of mess with your perception. All those magnetic vibrations, right? Gets you fuzzy and all.”
“Fuzzy? How did you ever graduate from Todai?” Aiba shoves him lightly.
He trudges to the on-call wing and could barely muster the energy to take a shower. When he finishes, he slumps in one of the lower bunk beds, checking his appointments for the next day. It’s the only time he realizes that he missed one with an “Ohno Satoshi”. Luckily, he finds his chart easily and scrounges up his number without much guilt at the invasion.
The thing is, Ohno Satoshi sounds musical on the phone, his voice gentle and a little boyish. He may be far away, but Nino feels like Ohno is talking directly to his ear, mouth on the shell of his lobes, closer than he was last time. Ohno accuses him of sniffing through private records, which Nino counters by saying that patients don’t usually try their pick-up lines on him.
“Who says I was just trying it? I meant it,” Ohno says with shy aplomb, and before Nino knows it, he’s agreed to meet up with Ohno in a coffee shop near the hospital. For a second, he wonders if his ragged jeans and old sweater are less than impressive-but just for a second, because all that matters is that he smells decent and his clothes are actually clean and gunk-free.
He waits for Ohno downstairs, the nippy spring air pleasant and fragrant in his nose. When he walks up the path with a small wave, Nino questions his memory a little bit, because he doesn’t remember him looking this good-apart from the abs, of course, which are unfortunately covered tonight anyway. He’s just in jeans, like Nino, but there’s something about his smile that gets Nino this time. It takes him awhile to figure out how best to describe it.
He places it when he’s only a few feet away. Ohno’s smile is shy but eager as he jogs lightly up the slope. Nino always falls for the dark, moody ones, yet something about this guy just screams “uncomplicated”.
“Nino.”
“Ohno…san?”
“We’ll work on making that more casual?” he says, a small dimple by the side of his mouth blooming. Nino is tickled by the confidence that he now sees to be genuine, with just a tiny hint of shyness. The walk to the café is a pleasant one. It’s late-or should Nino say, early in the morning-and there’s hardly anyone on the streets of Hongo, a university neighborhood. Apart from the memorable pick-up lines, Ohno isn’t as talkative as he appeared to be the first two times they met, so Nino doesn’t feel any pressure to be an interesting conversationalist either. At 1 in the morning, Nino’s fine with talking about how quiet everything is, what a tiring day it was, how the cherry blossoms are beginning to fall off.
They settle in a small establishment that Ohno promises was “recommended by Sho-kun via Tabelog”, whatever that means. It’s one of those places that Nino won’t ever be caught dead patronizing-the austere cement table tops and designer wooden chairs are sure signs that his coffee will not come at less than four-hundred yen-his personal threshold for a serving of caffeine. He turns towards Ohno. “This is your treat?”
He looks a bit surprised. “You mean the coffee?”
“Yes, I’m not used to coffee that doesn’t come from a vending machine. There’s no way I’m paying for something I might not even enjoy.”
“Well, I did ask you out,” he says, shrugging. Nino honestly meant it as a joke, but Ohno seems so chill about the whole thing, so he decides not to correct it. They choose a table beside the glass window, which had an unobstructed view of the sleepy sidewalk. Ohno’s salad and juice arrive-“What kind of person orders salad at this time?” “A hungry one. Don’t mock my cravings.”-and right after that, Nino’s melon bread and a cortado with latte art.
“Thank you for the fanciest yet smallest cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life,” he says, raising it to his lips.
“You can thank Sho-kun.”
“To be honest, Sho-kun sounds like a priss.” Ohno’s cheeks puff in amusement, stuck mid-chew. “Not that I’m judging your close friend or boyfriend or whoever he is.”
Ohno’s eyes track up at him. “Well, he is a bit uptight.”
“So is he?”
“Is he what?”
“Your boyfriend.”
“It’s past midnight and I picked you up at work. We’re in a super-duper stylish café. What do you think?”
It hits Nino with a startling clarity. He grins. “That you’ve never had a boyfriend before.”
At this, Ohno dribbles a bit of his juice to his shirt, which he quickly pats dry with tissue. His cheeks are a bit pink, and Nino doesn’t think it’s from the crisp spring air either-Ohno doesn’t look so smug now. Nino could only enjoy the show, finding him cuter for it. Just like their walk, their conversation is casual and light-just what Nino needed. He observes that Ohno has a dazed expression half the time, but whenever he replies, Nino could tell that he had been listening. He appreciates it, not realizing that he’s gone so long without talking to someone outside the hospital. Nino talks and Ohno listens, a bit of dressing peeking on the corner of his mouth. Even the way he licks it off is cute.
They finish their post-midnight snack, both of them lingering on their seats, enjoying each other’s laidback company. It’s only when Ohno yawns, a shameless full stretch that makes his shirt hike up just enough, that Nino decides, on a whim, to ask him to head back home with him.
To Ohno’s credit, he doesn’t even blink and nods, standing up to pay for the bill, which Nino feels a little-just a little-guilty about. In the dim sidewalk, he touches Nino’s wrist. “We don’t have to go back to your place. I mean, I can just see you off there. I’ll walk you.”
“Aren’t you romantic.”
“Shut up, I’m not,” Ohno protests, promptly letting go of his wrist.
Nino laughs. “The trains aren’t running yet, you know,” he says, heart thudding stupidly despite his casual tone. “You can sleep on the couch. I can wash your shirt for you too.”
Ohno looks at him, taking a moment to decide. “Only if it’s not a hassle for you.” Nino shakes his head. That’s how they find themselves walking to his place, just several blocks away from the café. They enter in silence, with Ohno only speaking up when he sees Nino’s extensive gaming nook, with two televisions and several consoles hooked up neatly.
“This…should I be scared?”
“My hands need some diversion from blood and guts,” Nino explains. “At least, metaphorically.” It takes a minute for Ohno to stop gaping.
He gives Ohno a towel and allows him to freshen up, gesturing to the couch when he’s done. Ohno’s cheeks float just above the thick edges, tucked under one of his old checkered blankets.
“Thanks for letting me crash. I’ll be out of your hair before you wake up.”
Nino considers him. “Don’t be.” He switches the lamp off before he could see Ohno’s reaction, before he tries to convince himself to drive out this virtual stranger from his home. Nino is rarely ever reckless, but for some reason, he just knows that Ohno is a little different, a good kind of different. When he’s finally in bed, it’s only exhaustion that allows him to fall asleep and not ponder why his patient from a few days ago is now sleeping in his own house.
No matter how well-built said patient is.
*
When Ohno wakes up, he feels a little disoriented. The beige walls and blackout curtains don’t look like they belong to his own apartment. It’s the whiff of cooking eggs that jolts him back to what happened the night before and whose couch he’s been sleeping on. His eyes take a bit of getting used to the semi-dark apartment, squinting at the small figure from across the room. Oh. There are a few errant butterflies making somersaults in his belly as he watches Nino bustling about barefoot.
“You’re a vampire,” Ohno says, aware that his voice sounds groggy as he takes small, sleepy steps toward Nino. His host turns towards him with a small smile.
“My eyes usually need a bit of adjustment time after gaming the whole night,” Nino explains, returning to his cooking. Ohno eyes his bare legs in his boxers appreciatively. They are thin and kind of pale, but also cute. He finds almost everything about Nino cute, which he knows is the beginning of a downward spiral, one that he is already welcoming with open arms. Ohno could become addicted to this, to seeing Nino in boxer shorts, a brown apron tied haphazardly at his back, cooking him breakfast. Or, wait…is that too presumptuous?
“You are cooking me breakfast, right?”
Nino laughs, plating up some eggs, toast, then stirring a small pot of what smells like miso soup. “You’re a demanding boarder. The trains are up and running already, you know.”
Ohno plants himself on the small dining table, right next to the stove. “It’s a Sunday.” His thoughts ring with the memory of Nino telling him, in not so many words, to stay. He’ll be glad to follow through on that, especially with the way Nino sidles up in front of him, laying a plate of home-cooked goodness on the table.
“Eat,” Nino orders him, and Ohno doesn’t spare a moment to oblige him, happy in this moment. The food is simple but delicious, so much so that he almost misses how Nino seemingly has a smaller appetite and barely picks at his food. They eat companionably, until Ohno feels something bristling against his shin. Oh. What.
He tries not to let his surprise show, even though he can feel his ears reddening. Frankly, Ohno doesn’t know if Nino just happened to graze his leg with his foot accidentally, but he ignores it, his eyes trained on the food. They finish eating without ceremony, and even though it was a satisfying meal, Ohno’s nerves are frazzled. Even just Nino’s chair scraping against the wooden floor makes him jumpy.
He freshens up after breakfast, taking a quick shower and brushing with Nino’s extra toothbrush. Ohno takes his time, ignoring the beginnings of a hard-on, blasting the cold water on without mercy. Maybe he’s just imagining things, and maybe, just maybe, he’s getting ahead of himself. There’s a voice at the back of his head that says that if this were a girl, he would have already taken over and written his own rules. In this instance, Ohno suddenly realizes, he is out of his depth. As he towels off, he is inundated by how infuriating Nino is, and the polarity of the tiny, pale collarbones peeking out of his ratty shirt and the way he had straddled that bloody patient-so capable and in command during an emergency. Ohno feels overwhelmed by his attraction that he’s tempted to rub a quick one off, just to get it over with, even if he’s newly showered and dressed in Nino’s threadbare sweats. He imagines telling Nino what to do.
He imagines Nino following.
He’s starting to get into his daydream when when Nino knocks on the door, making him jump in his skin. Ohno has no choice but to hastily tug up his pants and open the door, feeling on edge and thrilled-it’s almost the same thrill that he gets as he charges into a dangerous situation. Nino stands there. He isn’t smiling, not really. But there is a mischievous light in his eyes, and Ohno tugs on both ends of the towel slung around his neck as he steps out of the bathroom, somehow feeling that he’s on the edge of something. Nino steps into his space, reaching to close the door behind Ohno. He crowds him in, forcing Ohno to lean against the door, fingertips like heat stamps on his damp, bare chest.
“You forgot to give me a shirt,” Ohno says, slow to realize, pulse starting to ripple.
“I’m a doctor, I don’t ‘forget’ things.” Nino’s hand snake up his collar bone to the sinew of his neck, his other hand resting on his chest, gingerly avoiding the bandage. Oh.
“Don’t get cute with me, sensei.” An empty threat to accompany the lump on his throat.
“Oh? I thought we were way past that, Ohno-san.” There is no time to think, not when Nino leans up a fraction, kissing him squarely on the lips. This, Ohno can instantly understand. It’s better this way, because he prefers this to thinking-his instincts taking over in a sharp turn, his body adept at interpreting signals, neurons firing off orders to his limbs.
He loves the appreciative grunt Nino makes when he flips them over, deepening the kiss as he pins Nino against the door. There is no mistaking that Nino’s arms, no matter how lean, are that of a man’s, and Ohno, in a rush, realizes that he doesn’t hate it-on the contrary. Nino’s hands grasp at Ohno’s elbows, pliant now as Ohno kisses him with slow but equal enthusiasm. Everything feels warm, so heated up in an instant, and Nino inches in closer, slipping him the tongue. He feels like he’s been plunged under water, floating, colors suffusing around them as Nino keens into him. Ohno sighs, unable to comprehend anything else except how Nino-and making out with Nino like teenagers-just makes sense.
He is drowning in Nino when his back pocket vibrates. The familiar punchy notes play and sound ominously loud, breaking their gasping rhythm. Ohno breaks away, hand fumbling for his phone, face turning red in embarrassment. “I’m…sorry. Have to answer this.”
“Your ring tone is the Rocky theme,” Nino says evenly, lips looking unabashedly plush and red.
“Yes.”
Nino’s unbelieving expression makes Ohno want to crawl back into the bathroom. There’s a smile that’s playing there.
“This will be real quick,” Ohno says, letting him go and walking away as the ring tone takes on a more imperious octave.
“You’re not kidding.”
He shakes his head and takes the call in the corner, where Nino won’t hear him. Ohno isn’t one to shirk his duties, but just this once, as he’s hearing about the details of his next deployment, he wishes that he can end the call and not have to go.
Which is impossible, of course. Talk about horrible timing.
Nino is opening the curtains when he finally finishes with his call. He is set to leave from the Iruma Air Base in two hours, with a C-20J ready to drop them off from Okinawa, their first and last fuel stop before heading to Kabul. It leaves Ohno with only enough time to head back to barracks to grab his gear before heading to Saitama, where the base is located-not that he could tell Nino any of that. He watches Nino sipping on his probably now cold coffee, his face bathed in mid-morning sunlight. There is nothing more Ohno wants to do than stride across the room to hike up his mustard yellow shirt, to have him on the floor, to kiss him more. His mini daydream makes his head spin.
He sighs as he pockets his phone. “Work stuff. I have to go.” His own voice sounds small to him.
“Oh.”
Nino disappears to an adjoining room and resurfaces a minute later, tossing his newly laundered shirt to him. “Thanks.” He puts it on and gathers his pants, stuffing them in a paper bag that Nino hands to him. Ohno doesn’t know how to say goodbye without it being awkward-in the first place, he doesn’t want to leave at all. Nino watches him as he leans over the genkan, toeing his shoes on.
“I’ll call you.”
“If this is your way of saying you’re not interested, or this isn’t your thing-”
Ohno’s heart falls, aghast and intrigued at how soft Nino seems now. He hops over to him. “No.” Nino’s eyes consider him carefully. “No, I’m more than interested, and I’d like to see you again.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ohno pulls him in for a kiss, feeling Nino smile against his lips.
*
>> Part 2