5th April 20X5

They were quiet, still avoiding each other's eyes even after their second round. Alfred was doing up the tie on his scrub trousers, sat on the edge of the cheap on-call mattress and watching Arthur hunt for his other shoe. He pulled on his shirt, eyes quickly finding the floor when Arthur straightened up with his shoe in hand.

The only sound was Arthur sitting on the lower bunk of the bed on the other side of the room, taking an awfully long time in putting his shoe on just for an excuse to not yet look at Alfred.

They'd both been incredibly eager to look at one another just a few minutes ago, desperate to actually get every piece of clothing they hadn't removed in the supply closet off the other. They'd taken longer, hands exploring, eyes drinking in, lips marking, all thoughts that brought a red flush to their faces now. There was no problem staring into the other's eyes back then, communicating their moans that way as they struggled to stay quiet. But now it was everything they could do to not look at each other.

Arthur's shoe had to slip on eventually, leaving just silence until they both looked up. From either side of the room, their eyes locked, averting just a moment later. Arthur swallowed, Alfred coughed. Arthur was looking at his hands when Alfred's head lifted again, lips parting as he sucked in a breath to speak – and the door opened.

It was only an intern, paying the other two men no mind as he kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bunk above Arthur. The elder doctor had stood, grabbing his lab coat from where he'd left it on the bed and chancing one more, quiet glance Alfred's way before leaving without a word.

It seemed that they couldn't get time to speak to one another lately – at least that's what Alfred thought as he watched Doctor Kirkland rifle through some charts from the other side of the large nurse's desk. Though it hadn't been another week between conversation like their run in in the locker room and the supply closet, Alfred hadn't even exchanged a professional word with Arthur since he'd left the on call room. At the very least he knew that for once Arthur wasn't deliberately avoiding him, their eyes had met in corridors, crowded elevators, anywhere one could name where they couldn't actually speak to one another properly.

Doctor Bonnefoy was walking down towards him and for a moment Alfred thought the chief was coming to talk to him, but it only took him a moment for him to realise the man was talking in mumbled French and looking around for something. He passed Alfred with hardly a glance, moving across the corridor to the other side of the desk.

"Ah, le voilá— Arthur." Francis called, the phone pressed to his ear. "Une seconde," He mumbled into the receiver, pressing the phone against his shoulder and waving with the other hand to get his attention as he wandered over to the cardio surgeon.

Alfred watched as Arthur's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and then rose again in apparent realisation. He couldn't catch much of their conversation – if the Chief had said anything to Arthur, though there didn't appear to be many words exchanged besides an 'ah' and various nods between them as the phone was handed over.

"Bonjour maman," Alfred, eyes still trained on Arthur, watched as the doctor sighed into the phone, resting his elbows on the desk in a similar way to how Alfred had been sitting already. "Ouai, ça va…"

"I didn't know he could speak French..."

"Didn't know who could speak French?"

Alfred jumped nearly out of his skin at the sound of the other voice, unaware he had even spoken out loud. "Mattie—! Jesus, don't do that to a guy." He shot his older brother a look, sighing as he turned to lean on the desk again, nodding across the way. "Doctor Kirkland."

"Évidemment. Oh, ah, je saute du coq á l'âne mais—…Non- Oui- "

Matthew looked up, frowning as he noticed Arthur begin to splutter into the phone, clearly embarrassed by something – however quietly he spoke, it was still obvious to those looking at him – it wasn't exactly a convincing display of an ability to speak French. But Matthew knew as much already. "Didn't you? He and Doctor Bonnefoy talk in French all the time. Well, I mean, mostly Doctor Kirkland does it with his really bad English pronunciation and Doctor Bonnefoy storms off, so that doesn't count, but they still do. Haven't you seen?" He turned his frown to his brother, waiting a few moments before waving his hand in front of Alfred's face when he didn't get a reply.

"What- Uh, yeah. I mean, no, I haven't." Alfred looked up, shaking his head, but it was clear he was distracted; His eyes kept wandering in Arthur's direction. "I never see Doctor Bonnefoy around anyway."

"Coup de fodure—!? N-Non! Non, e— est un- est-"

Matthew stayed quiet, watching Alfred watch Arthur out of the corner of his eye, pretending he was paying more attention to his brother and not the blush on Arthur's cheeks. He couldn't deny that Doctor Kirkland was a bit distracting; despite him talking quietly it was always odd to see him speaking French properly, particularly as he appeared so uncomfortable. But he also knew his brother, and he knew Alfred didn't care about French at all.

Matthew frowned, reaching out to put a hand on Alfred's arm. It was a comforting gesture, concern on his features as he tilted his head for Alfred's attention – which he finally got. "Are you okay?" He began, his own eyes flickering across the desk. "You haven't said anything about your friends in a while. You seem more distracted than usual lately."

"Al—Ah, il…non."

"I'm fine." Alfred flashed his brother a smile, having to remind himself that Matthew couldn't read his thoughts and couldn't possibly know how Arthur's blush had had him reeling.

"You know ignoring your friends isn't going to sort it out for you, right?"

"Matt, I'm not a kid anymore; I know I can't just ignore my problems." He shot the other a look, not really in the mood to think about Lovina at current. "I've just been busy. I'll sort it out, okay?"

Matthew still looked sceptical, but Alfred's sincere expression was hard to ignore. Again he sighed, lips pursed but not ready to argue. "Okay. If you say so. I'm making burgers for dinner, okay with you?" He asked, starting to wander away from the desk and his brother.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Alfred waved him off, dinner at the bottom of his list of priorities at current. His attention turned completely to Arthur and the phone once Matthew was gone, watching with masked interest as Arthur seemed to grow tired of talking.

He had to talk to Arthur, they couldn't just have sex (twice, Alfred's mind reminded him and urged a smirk onto his lips) and not talk about it. He was certain Arthur wanted to talk to him too and he wasn't going to waste an opportunity. He waited, pretending to flip through a chart or answer texts until Arthur called for Francis and handed the phone back over. He wasn't looking when Francis muttered something to Arthur, only looking up in time to see the older man walking away with a laugh and Arthur's glare trained on the back of his head. But he wasn't going to wait to find out what that had been about.

With Matthew gone and Doctor Bonnefoy disappearing, Alfred couldn't risk losing the opportunity to talk to him. He rushed around the desk as casually as he could, clearing his throat just as Arthur was about to walk away. Instead Doctor Kirkland turned, his eyes flickering with something Alfred couldn't quite place when they landed on him.

"Jones—" He seemed caught off guard, a sudden flash of worry crossing his face. "Do you need something?" He looked back to Alfred, the lip between his teeth both giving away the fact that he was uncomfortable and distracting Alfred with flashes of times Arthur had bit his lip for different reasons.

"I, well yeah, I just wanted to ask you a few things." Alfred lifted his eyes from Arthur's lips when he realised he was looking. He tried his best to convey with his eyes that it wasn't a professional conversation that he wanted to have with Arthur, but Arthur didn't seem to be looking his way.

"Uh-" Arthur looked at his chart, his watch, then up and down the corridor, obviously agitated about something. "Is it urgent?" His eyes finally landed back on the intern; looking almost pained at having to ask the question. He'd been waiting for an opportunity to talk to Alfred, but he'd spent so much time on the phone he couldn't waste any more time in talking to Alfred.

But Alfred didn't know that, and felt his heart drop at that response, shoulders sagging just enough for Arthur to notice. "…No, not, not really I guess." It was his time to bite his lip, fiddling with his fingers. "But-"

"—Would you mind finding me later then? I'm waiting for a transplant heart to get here." The doctor spoke quickly, trying to convey the same thing Alfred had in that he did want to talk to him. He looked down at his pager – which was blank – and back up to Alfred, head tilted in a genuine apology that was only clear to the younger man.

"…Yeah. Yeah, okay, yeah I'll—Yeah." Alfred cleared his throat, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his head. His eyes met Arthur's, understanding that there was nothing the other doctor could do, but not at all liking it. "Sorry. –Good luck." He started to walk backwards, trying not to frown at the tight feeling in his throat.

"Jones-" Arthur began, stopping Alfred from walking off too soon. He glanced at the only nurse at the station; she was at a computer, back turned to them. "—The surgery- I should be done in five hours if the heart gets here."

"Yeah." Alfred nodded, holding Arthur's gaze until the attending's pager went off.

"Bugger-" Arthur cursed under his breath, shoving the pager into his pocket once he'd read it – no time to clip it back in place. He looked up to Alfred, sharing one more, apologetic look before he brushed past Alfred and rushed down the corridor towards the elevator.

Alfred had decided he would never like the PIT. It was loud, full of either menial tasks or highly stressful ones and he'd been yelled at five times that day. It didn't help that when a man with severe traumas came in his artery decided to burst and spray blood over Alfred. The intern had left his glasses in the locker room, soaking in some disinfectant for now whilst he stumbled into the nearest on call room.

His shift wouldn't be over for several more hours, but since all his patients were taken care of, he thought he was well deserved a nap – he could be paged if anyone desperately needed him. The room was evidently empty and so he climbed into a bunk with no particular regard for anything besides kicking off his shoes and heaving a very relieved sigh as his toes were given the chance to stretch. The rest of him did too, enjoying the cheap, thin mattress for all it was worth as he pulled the pillow to a comfortable angle and closed his eyes.

Light didn't bother him; neither did noise, so when the door opened he didn't bat an eye. It was only when he heard a mumbling of 'bloody interns' that he slowly turned his head to see Arthur pulling his labcoat off before the opposite bunk. He apparently hadn't noticed Alfred, with his back to the other bunk he had probably thought it was just any old doctor sleeping in the occupied bed – he must've seen something after all as he didn't flinch when Alfred sat up and the mattress creaked in protest.

"Doctor Kirkland?" Alfred spoke quietly, a slight hesitation in his voice, which was only confirmed when Arthur sighed deeply and turned to look with a long-suffering 'yes?'.

But that was only because he hadn't recognised the voice in his own exhausted mind, leaving him to blink and start when he recognised the doctor in the other bunk as Alfred. "Oh, Jones— Sorry, I didn't realise it was-" He cut himself off, another look of realisation crossing his features and he closed his eyes with a quiet groan that clearly betrayed how tired he was. "I—" He swallowed, looking over to Alfred, shoulders slumped and expression unguarded for once. "I just finished the surgery I don't really- I don't have the energy to…"

"Talk?" Alfred finished for him, his own expression nothing but sympathetic, which made Arthur's soften. "—It's fine, I get it." He nodded, smiling a very small and gentle smile. He was understanding of course, Arthur was a great surgeon but transplants didn't get any easier. Much as Alfred loved his job he didn't really enjoy being on his feet for four hours or longer and he didn't even do the major parts of surgeries yet, Arthur did this all the time. Even so, he couldn't deny that he was disappointed. They were alone, away from anyone else for the first time in three days and they weren't going to talk about it.

A quiet fell between them, Alfred looking at his feet and Arthur looking at his hands as they fiddled with the edge of his labcoat. They looked up at the same time, eyes meeting again and Alfred couldn't stop his mouth from moving.

"Do you want to share my bunk?"

It was a ridiculous question really, Alfred was already chastising himself for not holding his tongue. Why on earth would Doctor Kirkland agree to that? Just because they'd slept together didn't mean Arthur was comfortable far more literally sleeping together, let alone the fact someone could walk in on them. Not that that had bothered them before of course but,

"Alright."

Arthur spoke with that hesitation that Alfred had had just moments ago, but however quiet the word it was still deafening in Alfred's ears. His inner voice silenced, he was free to look up to Arthur, blinking as he watched the man change from awkward hesitation to picking up his shoes and dropping them next to Alfred's own.

It took just a moment for Alfred's body to catch up with his mind, scrambling a little too quickly back on the mattress to give Arthur room – but the way the elder laughed just slightly made up for any embarrassment from that. Again there was a little hesitation, eyes avoided as they had times before whilst Arthur carefully lay down next to Alfred.

The bunk was smaller than Alfred had realised, with two people on its small size became obvious, but when he felt a surge of confidence to open his arms and Arthur allowed himself to curl up in them it felt the perfect size.

They relaxed against each other, arms around waists and legs soon finding themselves tangled as their foreheads pressed together. They were quiet for a minute, comfortable and uncomfortable, relaxed and tense, only the sounds of their breathing and muffled ventilation, though neither was sure which one was which.

Alfred's eyes were downcast, both looking and trying not to look at the way their legs were tangled. He didn't notice Arthur watching him, not until the other spoke up.

"What happened to your glasses?" The Englishman asked quietly, frowning slightly as he lifted a hand to Alfred's cheek and Alfred felt his nerves erupt with electricity.

"I, uh, they're being disinfected, a patient bled on me." He pulled a face at the memory, though smiled when Arthur snorted.

"Oh dear. Poor chap, if he was bleeding enough to be on your glasses."

"Yeah, but he's fine now." Alfred nodded, fingers curling into the fabric of Arthur's scrub shirt.

"…Are you?" Arthur asked, voice softer than before and Alfred's eyes flashed up again.

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged, feeling a bit silly for saying as much when it was obvious – he was in the process of taking a nap when Arthur appeared after all.

Arthur hummed, the hand on Alfred's cheek brushing back into his hair and he raised an eyebrow when the intern visibly shuddered. "You guess?" He didn't sound convinced, nor did he look it, fingers idly brushing the tangles out of Alfred's short locks.

"Uh," Alfred shrugged, eyes closed to the feeling of Arthur playing with his hair. "Well. It's been a tough week I guess." He didn't really want to spill his heart out to Arthur, it didn't feel right, even with the other sounding so much like he wanted to listen – even with them tangled up in this embrace.

But Arthur scoffed, entertained by something, and Alfred's eyes opened again, questioning. "Well I would've thought fucking me in a supply closet wasn't a tough thing for you to do. I hope." He smirked, quietly entertained, particularly when Alfred blushed and smirked back.

"Well, no. But it was a bit more stressful than fucking you in an on call room." Arthur's cheeks warmed, hidden in the dimness of the room, but they both laughed. They quieted, Arthur almost shyly meeting Alfred's eyes now. "No, that was the highlight of my week."

"Oh really?" Arthur's eyebrow arched, the hand in Alfred's hair pausing on the back of his head. He didn't flinch when Alfred's hands grew brave enough to curve around his ass, only glancing down and raising both eyebrows.

"Really." Alfred murmured, feeling emboldened by their little back-and-forth. His lips grazed Arthur's and he could feel the Englishman's smirk as the elder closed the distance.

They didn't talk much after that, not as Alfred rolled them over and they got caught up in touching one another. Alfred's teeth found Arthur's shoulders at one point and Arthur's muffled complaints of it joined – But Alfred had muttered that Arthur's scratches on his back hadn't gone away so he was entitled to bite marks on his shoulder and that very quickly shut him up. Both were too tired for much, they didn't have lube and neither carried condoms, but the gentle rock of their hips with Arthur's hand wrapped loosely around them both was surprisingly energising .

They didn't get to talk after either, both pagers going off in canon and they dressed in a hurry with just a messy kiss before both went their separate ways. But they found they didn't mind.

Because the same thing happened a few days later, and then the next week, and then all following weeks after were interspersed with their encounters in on-call rooms.

'le voilá' - There he is
'Ouai' - Yeah
'Évidemment' - Obviously
'Je saute du coq á l'âne mais' - 'To jump from the cock to the donkey', on a completely different note/this is entirely irrelevant

Just bits of random conversation, if you were interested in the translation.

Also, I feel this is important to add, this is not the last chapter.