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Toshinori didn't think he had ever been so relieved to see Aizawa.
The day shift intensivist strode into the unit clad in a black long coat, his face half hidden beneath layers of gray scarf wrapped around his neck. At that time, he spotted the other when he passed Room 23, where the patient there had coded 8 minutes prior. His team of nurses and respiratory therapists, with their seamless group effort, successfully resuscitated the man. He knotted the last suture at the incision site by the man's jugular, where he inserted a central line. He covered the site with transparent sterile dressing then pulled off his surgical mask.
His team was halfway done with the cleanup work after he disposed of the suffocating plastic surgical gown. From the readings of the arterial blood pressure, the vasopressors infusing into the man's veins maintained adequate perfusion throughout his body. Yet, the comorbidities, the complexity of this patient's case triggered his skepticism of his eventual prognosis.
Toshinori thanked his team before stepping out of the room. He wanted to check on his partner, who, 15 minutes ago, ran a code for one his own patients in 29.
From a distance, it seemed that the other's patient had achieved ROSC as well. Though, from the way he stood barking a slew of orders at his team made it seem like his patient's condition was still hemodynamically unstable.
To think, only an hour ago, the two of them finally had a 15 minute opportunity to sit down for a cup of coffee and sufficient conversation. The other brought up his son, who would be starting his residency soon. But of course, it took more than a few times to convince him to submit an application for his father's unit in the university hospital. Toshinori empathized. In the back of his mind, he thought about asking his student, Midoriya, Shouto's classmate, to aid in the persuasion.
When he turned away from the bedlam across the hall, his colleague's abrupt appearance startled him.
"A-Aizawa-kun...!" His stumbled the same way the other's name tripped through his vocal chords in his parched throat.
His colleague peered at him; his dark hair pulled into a messy bun in the back of his head. He must have sensed the chaos on the unit upon his arrival and came prepared.
"Let's talk in my office."
Toshinori nodded. He took one last look at the tall figure donned in the same blue surgical gown hunching over his work before following the other down the empty hallway.
....
"...We successfully resuscitated 23, but his past MIs have reduced his ejection fraction close to nothing. I wouldn't say he's completely stable." Toshinori finished.
Aizawa paused in his note-taking, sensing that he had more to say.
"...The overdose case in 15... I had arranged a family conference today, but it doesn't seem like they're ready to let him go even though there is a complete absence of brain stem reflexes..."
They both knew it meant that the only thing sustaining the patient was the ventilator.
Toshinori rubbed at his sore eyes, at the same time, rummaging his brain for essential information, vital details, he needed to pass onto the other.
The object on his ring finger glimmered under the dim light. With his digits covering his view, the blond had no idea the other noticed. The more it shone with his hand movements, the dimmer the other's dark depths became.
"I'm sorry to leave you and Yamada-sensei with so much unfinished business, Aizawa-kun."
Aizawa cast his eyes down to his report sheet and shook his head. "This is how the ICU works."
"Thank you..." When he stood, he had to grip the side of the desk to steady himself. He recalled having nothing but the cup of coffee with 2 splashes of creamer all night.
A firm hand held his upper arm.
"Go home and get some rest." The sternness of the other's deep voice seemed to strike his soul. "Don't forget to eat; you're already too thin."
"I know..." He grinned at the other. "But look whose talking."
Aizawa snorted. "Your blood glucose is obviously not low enough if you can still turn tables."
....
Toshinori trudged into his office, closing the door behind him. He knew his partner would be done passing on report soon, and would probably come searching for him.
He just needed a few minutes.
Instead of plopping down on the ergonomic chair at his desk, he slid down to the floor to rest his back against the wall. Taking in the celadon green of his office walls calmed him slightly.
Yet, he could feel the adrenaline lingering. His hands trembled as if instinctively shaking off its remnants. But basic medical knowledge told him, it's just the subsequent hypoglycemia.
The room was so quiet that he could hear the wall clock ticking away. And silence became a dull drone in the background. His mind wandered through a void.
Peace met its demise with his companion's entrance.
His location gave him a few seconds to adapt to reality, to the present moment. Eventually, the other found him sitting from view, behind the opened door.
He slammed the door shut.
With a single wide stride, Enji invaded his personal space and tugged him from the floor with iron clutches around his arms. He pressed against him. From their closeness, Toshinori observed the other's dilated cerulean eyes. His broad chest heaved; the other needed an outlet for his excess adrenaline.
Enji yanked the drawstring knot of his green surgical scrub pants loose. Then he pulled down the wrinkled over-sized material to expose his ass. His hands kneaded the muscles.
While it had been difficult for him to find even an ounce of subcutaneous tissue as his hands roamed and mapped out his body, he could easily sink his grip into these clefts.
They exchange a wet, sloppy kiss. Breaking apart, Toshinori instinctively turned to face the wall. His rear end jutted out more when he pressed his chest against the hard surface. Enji ripped a packet of lubricant in half with his incisors.
"You erotic cherry boy." He snarled, prepping him.
It had been the nickname his partner used to mock him, to ridicule his awkwardness with the opposite sex and inexperience in relationships. The other had experienced life to the fullest, from marriage to divorce, while he felt as if his life remained a blank piece of paper with "Graduated top in his class, top intensivist in the field" scribbled in bold across the top to disguise its emptiness. He had to convince himself numerous times, it was a sacrifice he made willingly with the amount of lives he saved.
Enji entered him in one, swift motion.
"Who took your virginity?" He grinded against him. His fingers traced their connection. "Who popped your cherry?"
"I-It was you... You're the one...Aah..." Toshinori bit his lip to suppress a yelp.
"You do well to remember that. I'm the only one who can fuck you like this." His thumbs parted his buttocks. "My cock is the only one that goes in here, got it?"
" Yes... I got.. Aaah... Not there..." He squirmed when his rounded tip struck a sensitive spot within him. But the other just kept drilling.
"I want to hear it." His forced exhalations blew against his sensitive neck.
Toshinori knew what he referred to. As if his face drew upon a major blood supply circulating through his body, his cheeks redden to the color of a ripen tomato. "B-but...“
"Say it." Enji growled into his neck. His thick fingers fill the gaps between his slender ones. Then, he closed them into his palms, as if steadying himself with his impacts. He felt almost an impossible tightening of the metal around his ring finger. His reminder. His privilege. His right.
"Danna.... sama...." He murmured.
Enji plowed through him with more force. His balls slapping his buttocks, leaving behind redness to bruise in a few days. "Say it again."
"Danna....aaahh... sama..." His breath caught at his throat when the other's calloused hands slid up his scrub top, brushing against his sides, and his fingers keyed at his prominent ribs like he's typing up progress notes.
"Your danna-sama is going to cum inside you." He gritted his teeth and slammed into him with an extreme intensity threatening to perforate his insides.
Toshinori's moans seeped through his bitten lips; he shuddered. The heat of the other's release and a few jerks of his own shaft encouraged his own climax.
...
"Remember who you're with now." Enji bit down on his neck, purposely marking him in an visible spot. Then, with gentleness that contradicted his previous aggression, he took the other's left hand and placed a careful kiss on the plain, gold ring he had slipped on his ring finger previously during their coffee break.
"...You didn't even properly propose..." He mumbled through a yawn.
He would have properly proposed, had they not been summoned back to the mess.
"You addressed me as danna-sama, didn't you?" The redhead shifted so he could be more comfortable in his embrace.
"..." He was too tired to rebuttal further.
"I'm taking you home. I want you to get plenty of rest today so you can pack tomorrow."
"Pack?" Toshinori fought to keep his eyes open.
"You're moving in with me." Enji pecked his cheek. "And I'll give you the best proposal you could ever ask for."