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"There's the face I like to see first thing in the morning. Good morning Angel!" He said, a smile on his handsome face.

He looked more tired than his first day at the hospital, but that was normal. No one really got a good night's sleep in here. The random beeping noises in the middle of the night, the nurses and doctors walking up and down the hallway as they were still working, the uncomfortable pillows, the hard comforter and the constant smell of disinfectant; all that could keep a patient restless through the night.

I had a bagging feeling it wasn't that simple for him; something else was keeping him awake at night.

I convinced myself I only came in earlier today, to explain to him the surgical procedure; that wasn't true either, but I pushed the bagging thought at the back of my mind.

I wasn't disappointed at my morning view. He was a sight to behold, first thing in the morning. His dark hair messily pointed in each and every direction, as he run his fingers through it. His voice was deep and husky, inviting in a way that made me shiver.

"Someone's in a good mood. Did the nurses prepare you for your surgery, Mr. King?" I said noticing him sitting on top of the bed's covers wearing his hospital gown, a sling on his left arm, holding it in place.

"Back to you calling me mister, hm? Angel, I like this submitting vibe, but in a different setting. Preferably my bedroom, on my bed, with you trapped underneath me. So let's just stick with Brandon, for now."

I lacked experience, yes, but the images he created in my mind made my heart beat faster. I straightened my white coat and avoided eye contact for a few seconds.

He wanted to play this game? Oh, I could play.

I neared his bed in slow strides, keeping his eye contact. I wouldn't back down today, and that was amusing him. The gleam in his eyes was almost dangerous, but he didn't know how high my walls were, how mentally prepared I came for this.

"Let's just take a rain check." I knew I didn't have a comeback good enough for this situation, so I ignored him altogether. "Now, I'm sure you have questions about the procedure?"

"I actually do," he said, biting his lower lip.

My eyes watched his lips, before I pulled myself together once again. He must have known the effect he had on me, but this time the teasing smirk was missing his features. Instead, he smiled, a rare warm smile I wasn't familiar with. It was welcoming, engulfing me in a way, making me feel safe.

Safe.

My eyebrows furrowed. I felt divided.

"The CT-scan showed a type A rotator cuff tear, meaning two of your shoulder muscles, the supraspinatus and subscapularis muscles, were affected by the dislocation. Dr. Marshal will perform an arthroscopic surgery. It is a minimal invasive surgical procedure, with a shorter recovery time. Dr. Marshall will be making a small incision in the shoulder using a pencil-shaped instrument that holds a camera called an arthroscope." His eyebrows furrowed, so I picked my pen and notepad to roughly sketch what was going to happen.

"With the arthroscope, imagine a small telescope, we'll be able to see inside your shoulder. The surgeon will make two more small incisions for the tools that will help him anchor the muscle back to the bone. When that is done, he'll close the incisions with stitches. In time, the muscle tendons will heal on the bone and with the help of physiotherapy you'll be able to move your arm like before," I explained the procedure briefly.

His eyebrow had risen, as he kept thinking about it.

"Do you always speak like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know... Like a cute little nerd." He laughed and I lightly punched his healthy shoulder, before he retaliated and pinched my side, tickling me.

"Brandon!" I moved his hand away from me, successfully stopping him.

"How long will I be in there?" The tone in his voice was serious.

"The procedure takes about an hour, maybe an hour and a half. You'll receive anesthesia, so you won't feel or remember anything."

He stayed silent for a moment, thinking about everything I told him.

"It's okay to feel stressed out. I'd be worried if you didn't-"

"I'm not afraid of the surgery." He snapped, making me jump backwards. "Morphine?"

"Among other drugs. It's for the pain. And also to relax the muscles, so we can work around them."

He chuckled, shaking his head, clenching his fists by his side.

Deciding giving him space was best at this point, I tried to leave so he could think things through, but he reached for my coat's sleeve, pulling me towards him. Once closer to him, I felt his hand wrap around my waist.

"No need to leave, Angel." He whispered, his husky voice causing tingles to run down my spine.

He was always calling me 'angel', but it suited him better. He looked more like a fallen angel, his green eyes piercing through me, seeking for my soul, in a way only could.

"It's okay if you want to think about this." I lightly pushed at his hard chest to get out of his embrace, but he wouldn't let go. "I'll be at the main desk if you need any-"

"I was just thinking about the things I need to take care of back at the office. And I still have questions..." Once his arms eased up on their embrace around me, I took a step back to catch my breath.

Damn him and this unexplainable warmth.

"Will I be able to return to my previous lifestyle?" he asked and I raised an eyebrow.

"It depends. If you work at a desk, you may be able to return to work in one or two weeks. If you have other physical activities, like training, fighting..." I paused for a second, trying to read him, while he just smirked... "you may need to take off for a few months"

"Months?" he raised both eyebrows, rubbing his face as he groaned in frustration. "Fine."

How could someone do that? One minute he was all cheerful and a tease, only to be a completely different person in the next.

"You'll be wearing a sling until you support your shoulder on your own. Judging by how well the surgery goes, you will be able to go home tomorrow, or even today."

"So soon? That's it?" He bit his lower lip, thinking. "You'll be giving me your phone number, then."

"And why would I do that?" I asked, raising a perfect eyebrow. The nerve of this King.

"You're my doctor. And I'm sure I'll be needing your aid."

"We'll see about that." I winked, before leaving his room.

I thought I had more time, but my talk with him cost me the preparation-time I had for his surgery. I was unaware of it, but when I was with him I was losing all sense of my surroundings, and that could be very dangerous in my field.

I had to stay focused, I reminded myself, as I got dressed properly, disinfecting my hands and arms before I entered the operation room. Brandon was lying on the bed, trying to stay calm. The anesthesiologist smiled my way when I entered the cold room, before returning her gaze to her intern, Nelle, who was administering the anesthesia through the IV line.

"Please start counting backwards from 10, Mr. King," Nelle told him, but he ignored her altogether.

His gaze was on me and as I neared the table he took my hand, pulling me closer to him, his lips just a breath away from my neck.

Now I'll have to wash my hands all over again.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" His question caught me off guard. His vulnerability created a different kind of heat to spread inside my body. My eyes found his warm green ones, seeing a battle brewing behind them. Trying to sooth his nerves, I held his hands in my colder, smaller ones, before I smiled.

"Always." I couldn't control that single word from escaping my lips, before he drifted away, closing his eyes with a smile.

I was hoping he wouldn't remember this part of our conversation.

I stepped outside to disinfect my hands thoroughly, when Dr. Marshall stepped beside me to do the same.

"Dr. Ricci, good morning. I hope you're ready for this."

"Of course I am, sir."

"Don't be afraid, I've done many shoulder repairs by now. His is gonna be a piece of cake. There's no way we're messing this up," he was trying to calm me, but it seemed like his words were more directed towards himself and not me.

I didn't have time to ask if he was alright, before he walked inside the operating theatre. I followed behind him, holding my arms away from my body, when the nurses came to prepare us for the surgery. Before stepping near our patient's sleeping body, he turned towards me, his voice almost a whisper. "Let's do this right!"

His comment induced the spiderweb inside my brain to grow, as my thoughts raged on. The two of them somehow knew each other. There's no other explanation for his weird attitude. Moreover, I've never seen my attending this stressed out before a procedure.

Who was Brandon Anthony King, really?

I knew, this wouldn't be the end of it, but the minute the scalpel touched his skin, all other thoughts I had, were wrapped up and stored at the back of my mind. I was focused, and followed each order from my attending like the law.

Before long, the operation was over with the last stitch sown to Brandon's body, when the anesthesiologist started pulling out the drugs, to wake him up slowly. The operation was a success, but I wasn't surprised. Dr. Marshall was in charge of orthopedic surgery and surgical interns for a reason. He was very talented and charismatic both in his field and in teaching young doctors like myself.

The minute the cold water fell on my skin, I was able to breath again and come out of the trance I was lost in once the operation had started. I scrubbed my hands with warm water and soap, massaging the sore muscles of my forearms, as I lost myself in the thoughts that were consuming me ever since I met him.

Dr. Marshall was beside me, doing the same in silence, when I opened my mouth to say the words I would later regret.

"Dr. Marshall, sir, I wish to speak to you."

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