Anterograde Page 9

  “You’d know it wasn’t true,” he said, trying to turn the words into a joke.

  “No, I wouldn’t know,” Calden said, still as quietly. “It’d be the most terrifying threat.”

  Eli didn’t have an answer. But he did know that he wouldn’t hang this particular threat over Calden. Not for this, and not for anything. He wasn’t that cruel.

  It was only moments before Calden’s breathing evened out in sleep.

  It was hours before Eli stood and left the room.

  (next chronological chapter)

  September 27th

  It comes out of nowhere.

  One second, Calden is rolling his eyes while Petters is going over the assignments for the afternoon; he’s given Calden a broken arm that needs a metal rod inserted. It’s a waste of Calden’s time and skills, and everyone in the room knows it. Maybe he’ll grab one of the interns and supervise while he or she performs the surgery.

  The next moment, he’s looking at Eli and it strikes him, like lightning out of a clear blue sky. He never cared about kissing, but now he really wants to. Even better: he’s allowed. Isn’t he?

  It’s still terribly new. Only a little more than a day for Calden, less than a month for Eli. But it’s there, in the way Eli looks at Calden, in that little glint in his eyes that’s all at once possessive and affectionate—that glint that says he knows Calden is annoyed and planning a token rebellion against Petters.

  Calden doesn’t care where he is or why. He doesn’t care that there are people around them. All that stops him is that he never asked who, if anyone, knows about their relationship, and even that is a flimsy excuse.

  While Petters keeps rambling about supplies and proper procedures, Calden pays him no attention whatsoever and shifts closer to Eli. They’re both standing against the wall at the back of the room, and waiting is torture. At long last, Petters ends the meeting, and people start drifting out. Calden turns sideways. Eli looks at him, questioning silently. Seconds trickle by and at last, at long last they’re alone. When Calden cups Eli’s face with slightly shaky hands, Eli’s expression softens, his smile a little shy all of a sudden, his eyes a little darker, pupils dilated wide before Calden even leans in.

  For a moment, their lips are close but not touching and they breathe the same air, share the same space, like a bubble suspended in the staff room, keeping the rest of the world at bay. Eli breaks the tension by raising a hand to the back of Calden’s head. It settles at the nape of his neck with an intense familiarity, fingers tangling into Calden’s curls.

  All it takes is a light pressure from Eli’s hand, and their mouths come together for a chaste kiss. Calden’s eyes flutter closed, and he focuses on the feel of Eli’s lips against his. They’re as soft as he imagined—and, oh, how often he’s imagined this… He’s lost count of how many times he watched Eli’s tongue flick out between those lips, an unconscious gesture that nonetheless rarely failed to make Calden’s heartbeat jump. He had all the pains in the world not giving himself away. But now… now he doesn’t need to hide anymore.

  That very same tongue now traces the seam of Calden’s lips, seeking entrance. Before Calden can grant it, the door clicks open and breaks the moment. They come apart immediately, hands falling away. Calden blinks a few times. Eli is still smiling, but his cheeks are flushed. Calden suspects it’s as much from arousal as embarrassment. A loud cough draws their attention to Petters, standing by the door.

  “If you have better things to do than your job,” he says dryly, “feel free to go home at any time.”

  Calden doesn’t care what Petters or anyone else thinks about him and his choice of romantic partner. But he has no clue if he made Eli uncomfortable, no frame of reference to know what he thinks right now, so he turns a questioning look toward him. Eli’s eyes are crinkled from smiling so much. He places a hand to the small of Calden’s back and gently directs him toward the exit.

  “Work comes first,” he murmurs, low enough that only Calden will hear.

  It’s a terrible innuendo… or is it a promise?

  Calden approaches the door. Petters’ eyes are still on him, and his disapproving look is more than Calden can bear.

  “Anything you want to say?” he asks, stopping to stare at Petters.

  Petters huffs. “Nothing I haven’t said before.”

  “Don’t,” Eli say as he steps closer, until his shoulder is pressed to Calden’s. The expression on his features is closed off when moments ago he was so happy, and Calden’s annoyance only increases.

  “We don’t require your blessing,” Calden says archly.

  “My blessing for what?” Petters asks. “Ruining the life of the one person you ever looked like you cared about?”

  “Cut it out,” Eli says in his hardest, coldest voice. “You’ve said your piece before, and I already told you it doesn’t concern you.”

  “But he doesn’t even care!” Petters snaps, his gaze turning to Eli with something that looks startlingly like sympathy. “He doesn’t realize what any of it means for you. How can you have a relationship with someone who doesn’t—”

  “Enough!” Eli glares at Petters for all he’s worth. “For you to think Calden can’t do his job even after he’s proven you wrong is one thing, but if you want to take things down the personal road, we’re going to Langton right now.”

  Petters looks affronted. He puffs up his chest and sputters.

  “What I want is for you two to act like professionals! You may have given up on your medical career to play babysitter, Doctor Wright, but if you intend to stand in this room and wear scrubs, you’ll act like you belong here and keep your displays of affection out of the hospital.”

  The ‘babysitter’ jab causes Calden to see red, and he starts to take a step forward, but Eli stops him by resting a hand on his chest.

  “The meeting was over,” he says coolly. “The room was empty. You came back in here. What for? To catch us in the act? Lieben and Forsythe were whispering to each other and playing footsie under the conference table during the entire meeting and you never said a word to them about acting like professionals.”

  “Of course he didn’t,” Calden sneers. “All he wants is an excuse to get rid of me. But he’ll have to try harder than that.”

  Petters is still protesting when Calden marches out of the room, Eli right on his heels.

  “I should talk to Langton anyway,” Eli mutters. “I’m fucking tired of it.”

  Calden knows Eli means Petters’ attitude, but he still winces inwardly, some of Petters’ words ringing out too clearly in his mind. What if Eli tires of more than that? Despite what Petters said, Calden does care about Eli’s career. Calden did a damn good job on his arm after a demon’s axe severed it, and he knows for a fact that nothing stops Eli from wielding surgical instruments anymore—nothing but himself. First he used his arm as an excuse not to practice and became an administrator, and now he uses Calden as an excuse to barely even do that anymore.

  “You can’t talk to Langton now,” Calden says decisively. “We’re due in the OR.”

  “Right,” Eli says. “I’ll go when you’re done.”

  “No, when you’re done. Today you operate, I watch.”

  Eli laughs hard enough to earn a reproachful glare from a passing nurse.

  “Don’t be stupid. I haven’t operated in years. I can’t.”

  “Your arm is fine,” Calden says, unfazed. “And surgery is hardly anything you can forget. Look at me.”

  The attempt at humor is met with a flat look. Eli doesn’t say another word while Calden introduces both of them to their patient and does the last check-ups. When Calden starts scrubbing his hands and forearms, Eli is at his side, cleaning up as well, though he says pointedly, “I always scrub before I accompany you in the OR. It doesn’t mean I’m going to touch a scalpel or anything else.”

  “Why not?” Calden insists. “I didn’t reattach your arm so that you’d fill paperwork all day, or be anyone’s babysitter, l
et alone mine. You’re a doctor. You’re a surgeon. And you’re going to—”

  “Leave you to deal with this,” Eli cuts in, “and go talk to Langton. You don’t need me to fix a broken arm.”

  And with that, he rinses his arms and hands, dries them, and walks out without a backward glance before Calden has figured out what to say. He’s about to walk after him when a nurse peeks into the room to tell him they’re ready for him in the OR. If she thinks anything of Eli’s absence, she doesn’t say.

  Eli’s absence, however, is all Calden can think of as he makes the incision, realigns the shattered bone, screws in the metal plate, and works on tiny sutures he perfected under his father’s guidance long before he entered medical school.

  It’s not that Calden needs Eli here. He’s not even on his second day awake, and fatigue is nothing more than a slight ache in his knees. He doesn’t need anyone to keep an eye on him, the way the diary said Eli does. But he’s been by Calden’s side ever since Calden woke up, and the idea that he’s not now, that he went away because of something Calden said, sits like a dead weight in the pit of Calden’s stomach.

  What if he doesn’t come back?

  The thought strikes out of nowhere, and for a few seconds Calden stares at the knot he just tied, needing to cut yet unable to move, paralyzed by the fear of being alone, a fear he never experienced before he woke up and learned he and Eli are a couple.

  “Doctor Hayes?” one of the nurses says after a few seconds. “Is something wrong?”

  Shaking his head is as much an answer as it is an attempt to shake his fears away. He finishes his work and steps back, drawing the mask off his face, rattling off aftercare instructions the nurses don’t really need. He accompanies his patient to the recovery room, and that’s where Eli joins him a few minutes later. Calden’s heart jumps to his throat at the sight of him, and it’s all he can do not to throw his arms around Eli and kiss him desperately.

  “I sat down with Langton,” Eli says grimly as they walk out together.

  “And?” Calden manages to say.

  “Mixed results. He promised to talk to Petters about singling us out, but he made the point that public displays of affection are prohibited by the handbook. Which I should know seeing how I updated the damn thing not even a year ago.”

  He smiles self-deprecatingly at that, but Calden doesn’t have it in him to smile back, not when that fear is still lingering on the edge of his consciousness, like a danger just out of sight.

  “Did you like that?” he asks quietly as they enter the deserted staff room. “Rewriting the handbook. Being an administrator.”

  Eli shrugs and helps himself to a cup of coffee. “Rewriting the handbook was boring, but the rest is all right.”

  Calden lowers himself into a chair and watches him for a few seconds before asking, “And being a babysitter? How boring is that?”

  Sighing, Eli rolls his eyes. “Forget what Petters said. He’s an idiot.”

  “But you could do so much more,” Calden insists. “You could be a surgeon again instead of—”

  “I don’t want to be a surgeon,” Eli interrupts, setting his cup of coffee down with enough force that the coffee sloshes over the rim and onto the counter. “Me not working in an operating room or in the field anymore has absolutely nothing to do with your situation.”

  “But you do work in an OR, don’t you? You stand there and chaperone me. How boring is that for you? How long until you realize you want more than that? More than me? How can this go anywhere when I force you through the same motions over and over? This isn’t a relationship, it’s an infinity loop, and you’re the one trapped in it.”

  The words come out of nowhere, or maybe out of Calden’s newfound fear that Eli will leave. How could he not leave, really, when he has more reasons to go than to stay?

  “Right,” Eli says with a small snort. “Clearly you’ve been tricking me for four months, and I have no idea what living with someone who has your condition is like, because obviously I’m an idiot.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You know what? This is one conversation I could do without having over and over. Luckily I know just the thing for that. Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

  He strides through the room like a man marching to battle, takes Calden’s hand and pulls him to his feet. Calden offers a token protest at being dragged by the hand like a child toward the changing room. Eli’s answer is to roll his eyes at him. He only lets go so that they can get back into their street clothes.

  Signing out takes mere moments. Apparently, everyone is used to Calden’s shifts being shortened without warning. Eli doesn’t say a word as he drives them across town to a tattoo shop Calden hasn’t visited in years. Except that he did, he realizes with a jolt, thinking of the tattoos on his arm and chest.

  Soon, Eli is in the tattoo chair, his chest bare, his expression determined. Calden remains close, his eyes wide and his heart beating too fast under the two fingers rubbing absently as his chest. He just heard Eli tell Leon what he wants inked into his skin, but he still finds it hard to believe.

  “Am I supposed to invert the letters?” Leon asks as he starts preparing the stencil.

  Eli raises a questioning eyebrow at Calden. The question he’s asking isn’t whether the letters should be reversed. He wants to know if Calden understands what he’s doing here. All Calden has to do is prove that he does.

  “No,” he says, his voice a little rough. “It’s not supposed to be read in a mirror.”

  Eli nods once. He doesn’t say the words aren’t for him, they’re for Calden. At this point, he hardly needs to.

  Only four words, direct and to the point very much like Eli himself is, but it seems to take Leon an inordinate amount of time to trace the letters—not that Calden has any idea how long this usually takes. Or maybe it just feels too long because Calden doesn’t like the way Eli’s mouth is pressed into a pale, thin line. He never did like to see Eli in pain, physical or otherwise.

  It’s the middle of the afternoon when they get out of the shop. Calden can’t take his eyes off Eli. He’s walking with his chest slightly puffed out and with a satisfied smile. In the car on the way home, Calden manages to order his thoughts just enough to ask, “Why?”

  Stopped at a traffic light, Eli looks at him straight on.

  “When you had the first one done on your arm, you said it would help you accept it as truth, and I’ve never had to explain your diagnosis to you again. When you put the ones on your chest, you said you did it because it’s something you should never question. But you do. I don’t give a damn if anyone else questions why I’m choosing to be with you, but I. Can’t. Stand it when you question it, too. So you tell me. Do you believe now that I’ve thought about it, that I know what I’m doing and have no intention of taking any of it back?”

  His eyes gleam with an intensity that steals Calden’s breath, and suddenly there’s nothing he wants more than to kiss Eli again. So he does, and if it starts as gently as in the hospital, it soon turns more heated. They only come apart when the car behind them honks impatiently; the light is green. The engine roars when Eli presses on the accelerator a bit too hard.

  As soon as they step into the house, before Calden even has a chance to shrug out of his coat, Eli is pressing him against the wall and kissing him again and, oh, this isn’t how Calden imagined it would go, but it works, too. It works quite well. Eli’s body is one strong, urgent line pressing along Calden’s, as insistent as his tongue slipping in to find a mate to play with.

  When Calden smiles into the kiss, Eli feels the change and pulls back, giving him an amused look.

  “Something funny?” he asks, stepping back far enough that he can shrug out of his jacket.

  Calden follows his example.

  “Not funny per se. Just… unexpected. I didn’t think you’d be so…”

  “Hands on?” Eli suggests, demonstrating by putting said hands on Calden to remove his suit jacket.
>
  They make it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind them.

  “Is this…” It’s surprisingly hard to think with Eli’s mouth at the crook of his neck. “Is this how it always goes?”

  One push of Eli’s hands, and Calden lets himself fall back onto the bed, shifting his hips to help when Eli tugs off his pants, then his underwear, after a light squeeze to Calden’s hardened prick.

  “Does it matter?” Eli asks as he finishes to undress himself.

  Calden props himself onto his elbows to watch him, forgetting to answer the question as he takes in every inch of Eli’s body, from the way his cock juts out in front of him, thick and flushed, to the pale scar line on his arm, to the square patch of gauze on his chest hiding words that still echo in Calden’s mind.

  “I could spend hours just watching you,” he breathes, and while he hadn’t meant to voice the words, he’s not sorry when they bring a smile to Eli’s lips.

  “You have,” Eli says as he climbs onto the bed, straddling Calden’s lap. “Hours upon hours. You’ve examined and touched and kissed every last bit of me. And you’ll do it again, I’m sure.”

  The whole experience is eerie. From memories shelved long ago, Calden knows the first time can be awkward as two bodies, two sets of hands get acquainted with each other. He feels none of that, though. His hands are resting on Eli’s thighs, immobile not because he doesn’t dare to do more but simply because that much contact is already overwhelming. Eli’s weight is comfortable, anchoring him. His fingers, when they take hold of Calden’s cock and press it against his own, never hesitate and feel incredibly familiar.

  The feel of hot, hard flesh against equally hot, hard flesh sends sparks along Calden’s spine. He moans quietly, his hips snapping up of their own accord, pushing his cock into Eli’s hand and along his own prick. Eli gasps in reply, then lowers himself onto his forearm so that their cocks are trapped between their bellies while his mouth brushes against Calden’s.

  “To answer your question,” Eli says quietly, each word like a kiss, “no, it’s not always like this.”